Without another word, Vas faded into Phantom Step, his form dissolving into mist as he vanished from the room. He left the man gasping for breath, his pulse racing, unable to shake the horror that his house had been haunted by something far worse than any human.

Vas shifted his focus to the second target, an old man who had crossed Nyra's path. The man's indulgent habits brought him often to his favorite bar, a rooftop retreat perched on the Middle Tier. He relished the feeling of looking down on everyone below, an illusion of dominance that Nyra had taken advantage of when tracking him. She knew the man booked the rooftop for a private hour each night, an hour that allowed him to indulge in certain vices away from prying eyes. Vas didn't care about the man's secrets or indulgences, but a betrayal of Nyra demanded a response—and if it took instilling fear to ensure loyalty, Vas was well-prepared.

Avoiding the main elevator, Vas opted for the narrow stairwell to ascend to the rooftop, minimizing noise to keep Vibrion's hypersensitive capabilities manageable. The piercing had been forged into a pair of silver studs that granted him heightened auditory perception—but with a price. In loud environments, Vibrion amplified sounds until they could incapacitate him, turning echoes into violent waves that threatened his sanity. The stairwell was tight, nearly claustrophobic, but it was quieter, perfect for controlling the piercing's power.

At the rooftop entrance, he silenced the door guard with a swift, calculated strike, easing the unconscious man to the ground. A soft click sounded as Vas entered, and his figure, draped in black with an eerie green glow from his Anima, cut through the dim light as he approached the old man.

The old man, glass in hand, turned at the faint echo of footsteps. His face twisted with annoyance, barking about his reserved privacy. "I paid for the whole place—who in the blazes are you to walk in here?"

Vas moved closer, footsteps deliberate, echoing ominously off the rooftop tiles. The man, impatiently muttering, finally glanced up to see the figure of Vas looming before him, shrouded in shadows with the faint glimmer of green giving him an almost spectral appearance. He opened his mouth to shout again, but his words froze as the figure's face remained hidden in darkness.

In a low, chilling tone, Vas spoke, "Betraying Nyra was a mistake."

The old man scoffed, an uneasy laugh breaking through his bravado. "Doing all this for a washed-up woman? Whatever she's paying you, I'll double it," he sneered, trying to mask his rising fear with arrogance.

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Vas felt the spark of irritation but remained outwardly calm. He released a controlled surge of his Anima, and the air thickened with an oppressive weight. The man's mocking expression faltered as his breath quickened; his chest felt like iron was pressing against it. He sank to his knees, gasping, while Vas moved closer, his eyes cold as he stared down at the man.

In eerie silence, Vas took the man's half-empty wine glass from the table. He held it aloft for a moment, studying the dark liquid before slowly pouring it over the old man's head. Red wine trickled down, a mockery of blood, staining the man's white hair and streaking down his face. The old man choked, his previous bravado reduced to wide-eyed terror as he trembled under Vas's gaze.

Vas leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but sharp as a blade. "Next time, it won't be wine, but your own blood. Remember this, and know that Nyra is never without backing."

Without waiting for a reply, Vas straightened, the weight of his Anima receding as he walked away, his footsteps fading into the silence. He left the old man gasping and shaking, utterly humiliated and now haunted by the unseen forces that protected Nyra.

The last target Nyra had marked was a young man, a tech wizard responsible for hacking and extracting secrets—a talent that had served Nyra well until he turned his back on her. Vas had something special in mind for this one. Instead of the usual confrontational approach, he called on Amendiares, the spirit he'd forged into his CipherSync. With a cool detachment, he murmured, "Can you hack him, Amendiares? I want every secret he has."

Amendiares's voice responded, calm and smooth within his mind. "Yes, I can."

Vas's lips curled into a grin. Good. Take it all, he instructed, letting Amendiares dive into the young man's digital world.

It didn't take long before Vas's CipherSync illuminated with lines of data. The holographic display projected before him scrolled with a detailed summary of the man's entire existence. Every dirty little secret, every guilty pleasure, every digital fingerprint he'd left behind. Vas's eyes skimmed over personal files, financial records, his recent purchases—even the man's intimate preferences and private photos, each exposed with surgical precision by Amendiares.

But that was only the beginning. Vas commanded Amendiares to hack into the man's own devices. In an instant, the young man's screens went dark, and a ghostly, hooded figure appeared—a digital specter cloaked in shadow, eyes concealed, exuding an otherworldly menace. Through the speakers, Vas's voice crackled with cold authority: "Betraying Nyra was a mistake."

The young man jolted, disbelief giving way to a frantic energy as he typed furiously, trying to regain control. But every countermeasure, every bypass, was crushed by Amendiares's relentless defenses. His every move triggered another layer of exposure. His grocery list appeared on screen, then his favorite playlists, followed by his bank account information. His hands began to shake as his address flashed across the display, followed by his private messages, personal photos, and the intimate videos he'd shared with someone long forgotten.

With each revelation, a new wave of dread washed over him. The screens filled with increasingly sensitive information, peeling back layers of his digital life with a ruthless precision that made him feel like he was being dissected. He gasped for breath, trapped in the silent horror of his own digital existence exposed in front of him.

Then, in a whisper that seemed to slither through the speakers, Vas said, "I'll keep the worst parts a secret… for now. But defy Nyra again, and this all goes public."

The last image that flickered before the screen went dark was the young man's face, caught in his own terrified reflection. The screens shut down abruptly, leaving him sitting in the darkness, a prisoner to the paranoia and shame that now consumed him. He sat there, paralyzed, unable to shake the sense of a thousand invisible eyes upon him, wondering just how long they'd been watching, how much they had seen, and how deeply he'd been betrayed by his own secrets.