At the entrance of the house, a car sat idling. Kael was seated in the passenger seat while Nicole drove.Kael spoke without preamble:
"We're going to the police headquarters. We'll investigate that guy… see what we can find out."
He looked at Aiden, who was standing outside the vehicle.
Nicole added, her tone serious:
"You can stay here if you need to. Right now those people must be looking for you."
She paused before continuing:
"But don't even think about doing anything weird while there's no one in the house. We're police officers, after all."
Aiden smiled nervously.
"Yeah, sure…"
Nicole added that there was food in the refrigerator and that he could heat up whatever he wanted. Moments later, the car pulled away down the street until it disappeared.
Nicole then glanced sideways at Kael.
"Now that you're better," she said, "I want you to tell me what the hell is going on. Don't leave anything out."
Kael sighed.
"I guess I owe you that."
Aiden watched as the vehicle faded into the distance. Finally, he went back inside the house, and silence wrapped around him.
His thoughts immediately returned to what had happened: the Exterminator, how close he'd come to killing him… and what had taken place the night before in the warehouse.
My reflexes have improved, he thought. But I'm still taking too many hits… and I'm not landing all of mine.
He frowned. Against normal guys, he could still manage. Against someone like him—no. He wouldn't have survived.
He exhaled slowly.
I need to train more. Anticipate. Block.
Even though his body still ached from regeneration, he shook his head.
"This isn't the time to rest."
He began opening doors until he found the garage.
"It'll be better here."
He turned on his phone screen and started searching for tutorials: blocking techniques, reading movement, anticipating attacks. One after another, the videos began to play as Aiden prepared to train again.
In the middle of a hectic office, people moved back and forth as if each were living in their own world. The place was constant chaos: desks overflowing with documents and loose papers, uniformed agents talking on the phone, voices crossing nonstop.Kael and Nicole pushed their way through the crowd.
"So that's what happened?" she asked, without stopping.
Kael nodded.
"There's something big here," he replied. "Something moving in the shadows… and I intend to drag it into the light."
They kept walking until they stopped in front of a secluded office. Through the blinds on the door, metal filing cabinets could be seen, drawers labeled with different dates, and a desk covered in files.
Nicole stopped in front of Kael. She raised her hand and touched his cheek, forming a faint smile.
"I guess you'll always be like this," she said. "No one's ever stopped you… not even me."
Her expression shifted slightly.
"Just be careful. This feels deeper than usual."
She lowered her hand.
"I have pending cases."
They shared one last look before Nicole turned away and disappeared into the bustle of the office.
Kael took a small step to follow her, then stopped. He stood still for a few seconds, then lowered his gaze and opened the office door.
He set his coat on the chair and sat at the desk. He turned on the monitor, entered his ID and password, and began searching the database: records of processed individuals with a dragon tattoo on their head.
Outside the office, time seemed to move faster.
When the clock struck four in the afternoon, Kael was still there. Documents were scattered everywhere, multiple tabs open on the screen. His hair was disheveled.
The files were incomplete. Some were covered with black bars. Others were marked confidential. Names erased.Processing attempts that always ended the same way: cases dismissed.
"So they call you the Accountant…" he thought.
He exhaled in frustration.
"You're protected."
"Maybe now I could really use help. Foreman must know something."
He began gathering the documents and putting everything back in place. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
Then he stopped.
He turned his head toward the monitor. Something unsettled him, though he didn't know why. He returned to the keyboard and carefully typed a name.
The screen loaded for a few seconds.
Aiden.
At the back of the office, beyond the crowded desks and constant chaos, there was a private room. Inside, a man sat with his back turned in a brown leather chair, facing a large window overlooking the outside.
It was Foreman.
He was on the phone, his voice restrained.
"Yes, I know, sir. I know… we have everything under control."
Kael reached the door and knocked softly. He put on a carefree smile, as if nothing had happened, as if everything were fine between them.
Foreman looked up. Upon seeing him, he turned away in annoyance… then immediately turned back, surprised. He gestured briefly for Kael to come in and, at the same time, raised a hand signaling him to wait.
"Yes, sir," he continued. "I'll present the report very soon. All right… goodbye."
He hung up.
As soon as he did, he turned sharply toward Kael.
"Kael? What the hell?" he exclaimed. "Where have you been? I tried to contact you all night. You send me a photo, we go to the location and find a mess—bodies everywhere… and then the arrest of the district chief. Do you think I have time for your adventures?"
Kael advanced with difficulty and dropped into the chair across from him.
"Sorry," he said calmly. "I was… busy. Unconscious, most of the night."
Foreman studied him closely. As Kael told him everything that had happened, his anger slowly faded. After a few seconds, he sat back down.
"I see…" he murmured. "So that's what happened."
Kael looked up.
"Now I need to find that guy," he said. "The one who barely shows up in the records. I don't know where to look… the Accountant. If I find him, I'll be closer to the truth."
Foreman interlaced his fingers in front of his face, as if about to pray.
"Kael… Kael," he sighed. "You're stepping into quicksand. If you go in there, they'll drag you under. You're looking for dangerous people."
Kael didn't look away.
Foreman shook his head.
"He's protected. Something always happens."
He paused.
"Do you really think you could catch him?"
"I'm not interested in arresting him," Kael repeated. "I'm interested in the truth."
Foreman stood up.
"I can't help you."
Kael stood as well.
"And what happened to justice? To seeking the truth?" he shot back. "You and I both know there's something else going on here."
Foreman stared at him. He sighed.
"I'm sorry. I can't tell you anything."
He paused, then added in a lower voice:
"But… if you wanted to investigate on your own, you could start at the Palace. It's one of the biggest night venues in the Black Corridor. The Accountant might run many of his operations there."
Kael snapped his fingers.
"Thanks."
He turned and started to leave, but Foreman stopped him.
"Wait. If you go there, you'll be alone. You know as well as I do that in the Black Corridor there are no laws… and no justice. Especially if you go into its heart."
Kael turned and smiled, that familiar mix of exhaustion and determination.
"And what's new?" he replied. "I'm used to it."
He left the office.
Foreman watched him go, with the uneasy feeling that Kael was about to cross a line he might never return from.
As he stepped outside, Kael couldn't help thinking it: the Palace was a sentence. Going there—especially as a cop, without backup or support—was walking straight into the wolf's mouth. Still, an idea pushed its way into his thoughts.
"Maybe that kid… can help me with this."
A fist cut through the air.Then another. And another.
A rapid flurry of blows sent small currents of air outward.
Aiden breathed heavily, sweat running down his forehead as he repeated the sequence over and over again.
On the screen, the video restarted. "How to read your enemy."
Aiden frowned. He tried to imagine it: anticipate, read, react. He launched another series of punches, faster, more aggressive, as if speed alone could give him the answer.
"But what do you think you're doing?"
Aiden let out a startled shout and spun around.
Kael stood behind him.
"Shit!" he exclaimed. "It's you…"
He lowered his arms slightly, still panting.
"I'm training."
Kael tilted his head and looked at the phone screen.
"Uh-huh…" he murmured. "And how's that going?"
Aiden answered with actions. He adopted a stance and launched another flurry of strikes—cleaner, faster. Kael raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised.
But Aiden stopped.
"I hit too much," he admitted. "And still… there was a guy who beat me without me landing a single hit."
Kael watched him closely.
"I guess he must be strong."
"You have no idea," Aiden replied. "I couldn't read him. I couldn't defend myself. That's why I'm training… I want to anticipate."
Kael slowly shook his head.
"Your goal is good," he said. "But the way you're doing it… it's wrong."
Aiden stopped training.
"Why do you say that?"
Kael pointed first at Aiden's feet, then his shoulders.
"Look at yourself. You make ten moves to try to land one. You give away energy, time… and openings."
Aiden tried to smile, but Kael didn't let him continue.
"In a fight, the one who hits the most doesn't win," he said. "The one who wins is the one who doesn't waste strikes."
He stepped forward.
"Last night I watched you. You have strength. You have speed. But you attack first… and think later."
"With that guy I could barely read anything," Aiden argued.
"Because you were trying to solve the fight with punches," Kael replied, crossing his arms. "First you read. Then you attack."
He paused and raised a finger.
"But pay attention. You don't have five seconds to think."
Aiden looked at him in silence.
"You have fractions," Kael continued. "A blink. Weight loaded wrong. A shoulder dropping before a punch.If you think too much, you're dead.If you attack without thinking, you're dead too."
He stepped back.
"Find the middle ground. Observe. Close gaps. Force the other to move…and when they open something, then yes. Everything."
Aiden clenched his fists.
"And if I fail?"
Kael looked him straight in the eyes.
"You will fail," he said bluntly.
Then he smiled and put a hand on Aiden's shoulder.
"But there's no better way to learn, right?"
Aiden grimaced.
"Wow. Such encouraging advice," he muttered sarcastically.
But his gaze fell on his own fists.
"By the way," Kael added, "I managed to gather information about the guy with the tattoo we saw.They call him Cobra.
He can probably be found at a nightclub in the Black Corridor."
Aiden frowned.
"The Black Corridor?"
"You know it?" Kael asked.
Aiden shook his head.
"Only from videos. Some influencers have tried to go there to document it… get views."
He paused briefly.
"It usually doesn't end well."
Kael nodded.
"Yeah. It's dangerous."
"It's likely he moves around a nightclub called the Palace. It's on the outskirts of the corridor."
He crossed his arms.
"But I'm going. That might be the next breadcrumb leading to the truth."
Then he looked at Aiden.
"And you? What are you going to do?"
Aiden stayed silent for a few seconds.
He thought about what they'd said… about how they were probably already looking for him.
"I guess so," he murmured. "I'm already in this."
He clenched his fists.
"So I'm going with you."
Kael watched him, weighing the decision.
"Are you sure?"
Aiden lifted his gaze.
"Absolutely."
Kael sighed.
"As you wish," he said finally. "But we'll have to be careful."
He lowered his voice.
"We're walking straight into the wolf's mouth."
He turned toward the exit.
"And before that… there are a few things we need to get."
After entering Kael's apartment, Aiden followed him with his eyes, scanning the place from top to bottom. Wow… he thought. I thought my apartment was a mess… but that's because I hadn't seen his.
Kael moved without a word to an old dresser leaning against the wall and pushed it with effort.
"Help me."
Aiden stepped closer and, together, they slid it aside. Behind it appeared a narrow opening leading to a small hidden room, so tight that barely the two of them could fit.
Aiden leaned in first.
The walls were covered with weapons worn from use: shotguns marked with wear, an assault rifle leaning against the wall, and on the floor, a dark bag that seemed to contain several grenades… or at least that's what it looked like.
He stepped in further and frowned.
"What does a cop do with all this?"
Kael didn't flinch.
"I've been at this a long time," he replied as he checked the room. "And there are situations where other measures are needed… like now."
"And besides," Kael added with a crooked smile, "if there's no law for them in that place… there isn't for us either."
Aiden's eyes widened slightly. For a second, a dangerous idea crossed his mind.
"So then…" he began.
Kael glanced at him sideways.
"Don't even think about it."
Aiden's smile slowly faded.
"Don't touch anything. These aren't toys."
Aiden nodded, but his attention returned to the bag.
"And that?"
Kael bent down, opened the zipper, and took out one of the metal spheres.
"Flash grenades," he explained. "Very useful, in certain situations."
He put it back as if it were nothing.
Kael set the bag aside and picked up what looked like a thick dark leather belt, with several cartridges secured in metal loops.
Then he opened a drawer under the desk.
From it, he took out a compact matte-black handgun. Aiden immediately noticed the extended magazine protruding far more than on a normal pistol. Kael snapped it into place and secured it at the side of the belt.
Then Kael picked up something else.
Aiden frowned.
It wasn't a large rifle or a shotgun like the ones he'd seen before. It was shorter, more compact, with a clean dark body, no ornamentation. The weapon had an odd, almost elegant shape, with a retractable stock and a short barrel clearly designed for close quarters.
Kael handled it naturally, checked the safety, adjusted the strap, and stowed it in the bag.
Aiden swallowed.
That didn't look like something a cop brought to a routine raid.
As Kael finished adjusting his gear, Aiden glanced again at the open bag on the table. Curiosity got the better of him.
Carefully, silently, he took one of the grenades and slid it into a hidden compartment of his suit—the same one he was already wearing under his clothes.
Kael closed the drawer and turned around.
"That'll do," he said. "We need to go."
They pushed the dresser back into place, sealing the hidden room behind the wall once more. The entrance vanished as if it had never existed.
Before leaving, Kael paused for a second. He picked up the pills Nicole had given him and slipped them into his coat pocket.
The apartment looked the same as always again: messy, silent, ordinary.
Night had fully fallen.
After driving several kilometers, they finally arrived. Kael stopped the car on top of a hill, on the outskirts of the area, and both got out in silence. As Aiden watched the horizon, Kael adjusted the belt under his coat and shifted the weight of the weapons until they disappeared beneath the fabric.
They climbed a few steps higher.
Then they saw it.
Before them stretched the Black Corridor.
It looked like another city, separated from the rest of the world. Factories that seemed abandoned for years blended with improvised structures, houses stacked atop one another, rising in the distance like a chaotic hive. Everything was bathed in neon light—predominantly pink, splashed with purple and hints of cyan—casting an artificial, unnatural glow over the place.
And there, almost marking the entrance—
A four-story building with a dark façade, adorned with black lines and slowly pulsing pink lights. Black letters stood out against the glow:
The Palace.