Chapter 309: Murder Charge
Unfortunately for Kael, the marketplace had nothing more to tell him about Form.
He opened every available tab attached to the listing. Origin notes. Transaction history. Appraisal comments.
Whoever had first obtained the rune had clearly lacked even the shallowest understanding of what runes were, how they worked, or why a octagonal Legendary rune should have made every instinct in a sane climber scream. The listing treated it like a strange collectible with an impressive grade and no known use.
That made the price both absurd and painful.
Sixty million dollars.
For something whose function was unknown.
For most buyers, the number existed only because the system had stamped the word Legendary onto it. A rare enough grade, a mysterious shape, and the right amount of curiosity were enough to keep rich collectors biting. Yet Kael looked at the rune and knew the true irony. His entire runic system existed because of one Legendary rune. Anchor. Without Anchor, everything he had built would collapse into a pile of suicide tools and ruined flesh. Fire would burn him. Darkness would eat him hollow. Heft would turn force into self-destruction. The gauntlets, the sockets, the combinations, the whole ridiculous path that made him what he was now rested on one rune that Earth would have called trash until it killed someone.
So if Form was anything close to Anchor in significance, sixty million was not too expensive.
It was a bargain.
That was the saddest part.
Kael stared at the rotating hologram of the pentagonal rune and sighed. "I’m too broke for this shit."
He checked the transaction history again, more carefully this time.
The rune had been bought and sold several times through the Association marketplace. Never kept for long. A week here. Two weeks there. A month once. Then relisted. Price lowered. Price raised. Private appraisal. Failed testing. Returned to auction. The pattern was easy enough to understand. Some rich climber, guild investor, collector, or idiot with more money than patience bought it because Legendary sounded important. They tried to use it, failed, tested it through normal mana channels, failed again, probably found out it would interfere with magic if handled improperly, then threw it back into the market before admitting they had bought a very expensive paperweight.
Multiple times.
Multiple people.
Kael almost laughed.
If they knew what it might be, it would never have been listed publicly. If they knew how impactful a true rune could become under the right conditions, the price would not be sixty million. It would be locked behind guild vaults, state-level negotiations, and quiet murders.
But knowing that did not put money in his account.
He closed the listing.
For now, Form would remain someone else’s very expensive misunderstanding.
The bid on the Ring of Returning Tides had continued to rise while he browsed. The number had crawled higher, slower now but steadier, climbing by large increments as guilds and wealthy climbers tested each other’s willingness to bleed money. Kael watched it for a while, letting the reality sink in. That ring would give him a foundation outside the Tower. Rent. Medical bills. A better place for his mother. Food that did not taste like cheap survival. Maybe even a small training space if he was careful.
He wanted to buy more immediately.
Armor. Materials. Emergency tools. Maybe something that could help him against Vanitas besides the torches.
But there were other matters first.
Kael closed the marketplace screen and left the viewing room.
The woman from earlier met him outside and guided him back down through the elevator, where the Association’s polished silence gave way to the more active noise of the lower floors. Staff moved between desks. Climbers argued near counters. A receptionist explained auction fees to a man who looked personally offended that money had rules. Someone in the testing wing was still talking about the punch, which meant Kael’s chances of remaining unnoticed had already died quietly in a corner.
He was taken to finalize paperwork.
It was exactly as annoying as expected.
Digital signatures. Identity confirmation. Temporary address. Emergency contact, which he could not provide properly because his mother was unconscious and his own phone was gone. Auction authorization. Tax forms. Climber liability clauses. Market-use agreements. Gate-response disclaimers. Insurance options. A long list of things that made the Tower seem almost honest by comparison. Monsters at least had the decency to bite without requesting initials on page six.
The Association worker handling the documents was efficient, thankfully.
"Now that you are registered with the Association," he said, sliding one final confirmation screen toward Kael, "you may raid dungeons up to B rank and assist in clearing gates if they open within your approved range. You may also receive occasional requests to participate in emergency raids or Association-backed operations if needed."
Kael signed. "What if I’m unavailable, or in the Tower?"
"We already account for that," the man said. "If you are not available, we will not enforce participation. Requests are a way to improve your standing, reputation, and Association benefits. They are not compulsory unless you sign a specialized contract or become an active field agent."
"Good to know."
Kael leaned back slightly, thinking.
Now that the immediate matter of the ring was handled, another issue rose behind it. His apartment was not good enough anymore. It had barely been good enough before. If his mother woke and recovered, taking her back to a mattress on the floor in an overpriced box with a shower too short for him and a kitchen counter smaller than some coffins was not acceptable.
"Do you know anything about housing?" he asked.
The man frowned, not displeased, just switching mental departments. "We do have a department for that. If you are interested, I can connect you with one of our members. What are you looking for right now?"
"A good place to live. I have a mother who’s currently bedridden."
The man’s expression softened by a degree. "I see. Since we have your information, we can prepare a listing of available properties, with ranges, prices, accessibility, hospital proximity, security grade, and Association discounts. We can have that ready first thing tomorrow. We’ll contact you if you leave your contact information."
"I lost my phone."
"That is not an issue."
The man reached into a drawer and took out a small red box.
"We were about to give you this anyway."
Kael accepted it and opened the lid.
Inside was a bracelet.
It was sleek, black, and simple, with a small red mark near the clasp and faint lines of embedded circuitry running beneath the surface. It did not look like jewelry so much as a piece of equipment pretending to be polite.
"Holographic communication device," the man said. "Standard climber device. It functions inside gates and most dungeons where normal signal fails, assuming the local interference is not extreme. Far better than an ordinary phone. We will contact you through this."
"Oh," Kael said. "That’s neat. How much?"
The man smiled. "It comes with registration."
Free things were rarely free.
But Kael took it anyway and fastened it around his wrist.
"So," the man said, "anything else we can do for you, Mr. Kael Ardent?"
"Nope. I’m satisfied already. Thank you."
Kael stood.
He had just turned toward the exit when the front of the building changed.
Several men in black suits entered first, moving with the practiced aggression of people who believed badges turned suspicion into ownership. Behind them came half a dozen fully armored police officers, their gear reinforced for climber incidents, visors down, weapons ready but not yet aimed. Conversations died across the lobby in a spreading wave. Staff looked up. Climbers stepped back. A few hands moved toward weapons and stopped when they saw the Association guards also becoming alert.
The lead man in the black suit lifted an identification badge.
"Kael Ardent!" he shouted. "CIU! You are under arrest on suspicion of murder!"
The group moved to surround him.
Kael looked left.
Then right.
Then back at the Association worker who had just given him the bracelet.
"Are they serious?"
The man’s professional expression hardened immediately. "Do not say anything. We have a legal department. Keep your silence until your lawyer presents themselves."
Kael looked back at the CIU agents. "Can I at least ask what I’m being charged for?"
The lead agent’s jaw tightened. "The murder of reporter Annie Bers."
It took a moment for the name to settle.
Then the shape of it clicked into place.
The construction site.
The collapsed building.
The woman Asher Vylan had killed.
Kael felt something cold and ugly move through his chest. They were trying to pin it on him. Or maybe not trying yet. Maybe he was simply the only loose thread they had found. He had been scheduled to work that night. He had been there. The building had collapsed. A reporter had died. A climber had been involved. Then Kael had walked into the Association building less than a day later, registered as a climber, and shattered records like a man trying to announce himself to every investigator in the city.
Wonderful.
The Association worker’s voice sharpened. "Do not say a thing, Mr. Kael."
"Just a minute," Kael said.
"Mr. Kael."
Kael looked at the CIU agent. "You said I killed that woman?"
"Yes."
"And when did she die?"
The agent narrowed his eyes. "Forensic report places the time yesterday night."
"Ah. And where did she die?"
"The construction site near the Hudson that collapsed."
"And what does all that have to do with me if the building collapsed?"
"You were the only person confirmed to have been there."
Kael tilted his head. "And that means I collapsed the building on her or something?"
"We found traces of mana on her body," the agent said. "She was killed by a climber. You were not on our suspect list until you came here to take the climber test. We now have strong evidence suggesting you were possibly involved in her death."
"Ah."
Kael turned his head toward the Association worker.
"Hear that? Mana, he said."
The CIU agent frowned. "What is wrong? Do you have something to say?"
The Association worker adjusted his glasses. "Yes. We just finished testing. Sir Kael Ardent is... manaless."
The lobby went quiet again.
The lead CIU agent stared. "That cannot be. He is a climber."
"It came as a surprise to us all," the Association worker said. "But he is indeed a person without an ounce of usable mana."
Kael lifted both hands slightly. "All muscle, baby."
No one laughed.
Jerome, who had apparently come downstairs at some point, did. Once. Then stopped when every officer looked his way.
The CIU agent’s expression became less certain, but not friendly. "Can we have his reports and the files you have on him?"
"With proper request and legal oversight," the Association worker said. "Yes."
"We will still take him for investigation."
"Now really do not say anything else, Mr. Kael," the Association worker said, not taking his eyes off the agents. "Our lawyers will take care of this."
Kael sighed.
"Sure thing then."
The officers stepped closer.
He could resist.
That thought appeared as naturally as breathing.
Six armored police officers. Several CIU agents. Association guards nearby. Climbers watching. Glass walls. Reinforced floors. Exits. Distances. Angles. If this became a fight, he could break through the encirclement before half of them understood the mistake. He could run. He could vanish into the city. The Tower would drag him away in a month anyway, and Earth’s prison bars probably mattered less than people believed.
But his mother was in a hospital bed.
His newly cured mother.
Asher Vylan’s name sat behind Kael’s teeth like poison. He could say it. He could accuse the strongest climber in the world of murder. He could tell them what he saw. Maybe someone would believe him. Maybe the Association would dig. Maybe the CIU would suddenly remember caution.
Or maybe Vylan would hear.
And if Asher Vylan felt threatened, Kael doubted the man would aim at him first. Not after what Kael had just sacrificed everything to save.
His mother was vulnerable.
That decided it.
Kael did not care much for prison if it came to that. The Tower would call him back in a month whether he was behind bars or not. But he also did not want to be imprisoned, delayed, or publicly exposed before he understood the board. For now, the Association was his safest wall.
He let the officers approach.
Vylan had really done a number on that poor woman.
Kael looked at the CIU agent, then at the Association worker.
"I’ll wait for the lawyer," he said.
The worker nodded once, relieved.
The officers moved in.
Kael raised his hands calmly.
And the whole lobby watched as the newly registered B-Class, level-one, manaless super rookie was taken in for murder.