Chapter 312: Release
"What are we going to do with this time bomb?" the officer asked.
The detective did not answer immediately.
He remained behind the two-way mirror, eyes fixed on Kael through the glass. The young man sat in the interrogation room with the Association lawyer beside him, calm, still, and far too composed for someone who had just been accused of murder. That composure was not arrogance, though. The detective had seen arrogance before. Climbers, especially the strong ones, wore arrogance like armor. Kael wore silence like a man who knew where his path in life was.
That made him worse.
"As much as I hate to admit it," the detective said, voice low, "some people are above the law in this new world."
The officer grimaced.
The detective continued, "Where might is right, who the hell can even prosecute him? Especially since we don’t have concrete evidence of Vylan being there. No clear footage. No reliable witness willing to speak. Mana traces that could belong to a dozen high-end climber skills if his people get time to muddy the report. And the only person who might have seen him is sitting in that room refusing to say his name because he knows exactly what happens if he does."
The officer looked through the mirror again.
Kael had not moved.
"I know what we can do," the officer said.
The detective turned toward him. "Enlighten me, because I’m stuck."
"Let the kid go."
The detective’s brow tightened.
"Tell him we’ll handle it," the officer continued. "Tell him he is no longer under suspicion. Tell him to keep quiet about being there."
"Ah," the detective said. "So Vylan doesn’t come hunt him down."
"Yes. If news spreads that he was present, I doubt Vylan would spare him. We’ll have another body on our hands and no one we can safely point fingers at."
The detective rubbed both hands over his face.
The motion carried exhaustion more than anger, but anger was there too. Deep and helpless. The kind that came from knowing the correct thing to do and having no path to do it without getting more people killed.
"This shit pisses me off," he said. "To see someone commit a crime and stand still without being able to do anything."
The officer exhaled. "Reminds me of Homelander."
The detective gave him a flat look. "This one is worse. At least Homelander is fictional and careful about his public image. If this guy’s switch turns the wrong way, he could probably destroy the damn country."
Neither of them laughed.
That was the worst part.
The detective sat back in his chair, staring at the file on the table beside him. Annie Bers. Reporter. Dead. A woman who had gone to a construction site chasing a story and found one of the monsters their world kept dressing as heroes. Her family would get words. Condolences. An investigation. Carefully shaped statements. The truth would sit behind sealed files and fear, while Asher Vylan kept smiling for cameras.
"I hate the fact that people have abilities," the detective muttered. "I hate this Tower. And I hate this situation more."
The officer nodded slowly. "I’ll inform them of their release."
The detective looked once more through the glass. "Do it."
The officer left the observation room.
A few moments later, the door to the interrogation room opened.
The Association lawyer turned immediately, sharp as a knife. "We aren’t done talking yet."
"No need," the officer said.
The lawyer narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"
"New evidence showed up clearing your client." The officer looked at Kael. "Kael Ardent, you’re clear to go. We will also speak directly to the Association regarding any misunderstanding that may have affected your image with them."
The lawyer’s expression did not soften. "What new evidence?"
"We’re not allowed to discuss that."
"That is convenient."
"All you need to know is your client is free to go."
The lawyer looked ready to continue, but Kael placed one hand on his shoulder.
It was not forceful.
The lawyer still stopped.
"Thanks," Kael said. "We’ll be on our way then."
The lawyer glanced at him, seemed to consider arguing, then slowly gathered his things. "Fine. But we will be filing a formal complaint regarding the arrest procedure, the attempt to question my client before counsel arrived, and the public nature of his apprehension inside an Association branch."
The officer sighed. "Of course you will."
"Good. I enjoy being understood."
Kael stood.
The chair scraped against the floor, louder than it should have been. The officer’s eyes followed the movement automatically, and for a moment he seemed to remember the dented steel floor near intake, the arm ring that had nearly crushed a man’s foot, the reports from the Association’s physical test, and the fact that this entire release was partly because the wrong monster had been dragged into the room.
No one tried to cuff Kael on the way out.
The lawyer walked beside him through the corridor, waiting until they had passed the first security station before speaking under his breath.
"What kind of timely evidence did they get?"
"They didn’t," Kael said.
The lawyer looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"They probably bugged the room."
The lawyer stopped walking for half a step. "That is illegal."
Kael kept moving. "Won’t matter."
"It does matter."
"Not right now."
The lawyer caught up, jaw tight. "You are far too calm about law enforcement illegally listening to a private conversation with counsel."
"I’ve had a long month."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only one I have."
They passed another set of doors. The CIU building felt less oppressive on the way out, though not because it had changed. The same reinforced walls, same cameras, same mana circuits. The difference was that no one was steering him deeper into it anymore. A few agents watched from a distance, their expressions guarded. Some looked suspicious. Some looked relieved. One looked almost apologetic before turning away.
The lawyer waited until they reached the lobby.
"Now they know," Kael said quietly.
"Know what?"
"Who the assailant was."
The lawyer’s face hardened. "So it really was Asher."
Kael looked toward the building exit, where the city waited beyond reinforced glass.
"Can’t do shit about that guy," he said. "At least for now."
The lawyer stepped in front of him.
It was almost funny. He was shorter than Kael, smaller, softer, and very mortal in the way office men were mortal even when they wore confidence well. Yet he planted himself in Kael’s path and held his ground like a man who understood fear and chose irritation instead.
"What do you mean, for now?"
Kael looked down at him.
The challenge in the lawyer’s eyes made him smile faintly.
"You think I’ll let someone who tried to kill me walk away?" Kael asked.
The lawyer did not answer.
"Maybe not today. Maybe not next month. Eventually, though, I’ll bring him to justice."
"That man is basically a demigod."
"Then justice needs stronger legs."
"That is not a plan."
"If justice isn’t strong enough now," Kael said, "I’ll allow it to borrow my fists."
The lawyer stared at him.
Outside, the city moved as if none of this mattered. Cars passed. Pedestrians crossed the street. Screens on nearby buildings flashed advertisements for guild recruitment, climber supplements, and a smiling Asher Vylan wearing polished armor beneath the words AMERICA’S SHIELD.
Kael’s brow twitched.
All is good.
All is well.
The thought came with a bitter taste.
No matter how powerful Asher Vylan was, no matter how bright his public image or how many people knelt around his name, Kael could not help comparing him to the man who had taught him what violence truly felt like. The Fist King. The inheritor of the Demon Fist. The old monster who laughed at his own jokes and could slap Kael unconscious for a full day by accident, or what he called accident when he felt like being generous.
Compared to that, Asher Vylan was not untouchable.
He was just early.
A third-rate villain sitting too high on the board.
Eventually, Kael would reach him.
The lawyer followed his gaze to the advertisement and went pale by a shade. "You need to be extremely careful."
"I know."
"No, you do not. People like him do not need to kill you themselves. They have guilds, sponsors, media, politicians, fanatics, and enough money to make your life disappear one document at a time."
Kael’s expression cooled.
"My mother first," he said. "Then rent. Then training. Then the Tower. Vylan can wait."
The lawyer seemed relieved by the order of priorities, though only slightly. "Good. Keep that mindset. Let the Association handle the immediate legal issue. Do not speak to reporters. Do not post anything. Do not contact anyone connected to Annie Bers. Do not mention Vylan’s name in public, private, spiritual, emotional, or drunken context."
"I don’t drink much."
"Excellent. Continue."
Kael nodded.
The lawyer handed him a card. "This is my direct contact. The bracelet should be synced within the hour. Use it if CIU contacts you again, if any guild approaches you aggressively, or if you receive threats."
"Thanks."
"And Mr. Ardent?"
Kael paused.
The lawyer’s voice lowered. "Do not confuse patience with surrender. If you truly intend to fight a man like Vylan one day, survive long enough to make it matter."
Kael looked at him for a moment.
Then nodded once.
"I can do that."
He left the CIU building.
The day had stretched too long. Hospital. Association. Auction. Torches. Legendary rune he could not afford. Arrest. Murder accusation. Vylan’s shadow pressing into every corner of his life before he had even finished breathing Earth’s air again.
Kael wanted to go back to the hospital.
He wanted to sit by his mother’s bed until the Elixir finished its work and her eyes opened properly.
But the doctor had been right. Sitting there and staring at machines for two days would not make the cure work faster. He needed rest. A phone replacement was no longer necessary now that he had the bracelet. The Association would contact him about housing. The ring auction would finish tomorrow. His mother was healing.
For tonight, there was nothing useful left to do.
So Kael walked home.
The city lights came alive around him as evening deepened. People passed him on the sidewalk, some glancing at his size, some at his red hair, some at the new climber bracelet around his wrist. A few recognized the Association device and gave him more space. He did not mind. Space was good. Space meant fewer things to accidentally break.
When his apartment building came into view, it looked even smaller than before.
Still ugly.
Still overpriced.
Still his, for now.
Kael climbed the six flights of stairs without slowing. His door opened with the same code. The flat waited in silence, emptier after he had stored most of his belongings in inventory. The letters still lay near the entrance. Bills. Notices. Problems from a life that felt older than it was.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
For a while, he simply stood there.
Then he laughed once, quietly.
"Home sweet prison box."
He dropped onto the mattress on the floor. It complained under his weight, springs and fabric giving a noise of deep personal betrayal. Kael stared at the ceiling, one arm behind his head, the other resting near the bracelet on his wrist.
Tomorrow, the auction would end.
Tomorrow, maybe he would have money.
Tomorrow, maybe his mother would wake.
In a month, the Tower would take him back.
And someday, Asher Vylan would learn that throwing Kael Ardent into the Hudson River had not been murder.
It had been training.