Asher didn’t slow down after that.
He followed the researcher’s na, not through records, but through patterns. Where similar buildings existed. Where people felt drained but didn’t die. Where officials avoided questions instead of denying them.
Over the next week, he found three more sites.
All similar.
All quiet.
All testing, not feeding.
Each one used different tools, but the goal was the sa.
How much of a soul could be taken without killing the body.
How long a person could survive after partial removal.
What changed when the sa subject was tested more than once.
"This is preparation," Asher said. "They’re learning how to use souls without destroying the host."
He destroyed every site he found.
He didn’t kill the workers unless they resisted. Most ran. So begged. None of them mattered.
The work stopped when the tools were gone.
At the fourth site, he found sothing new.
Orders.
Not signed.
Not sealed.
But approved.
Each project had a simple mark at the bottom.
A clearance tier.
High.
Higher than any field researcher should have access to.
Asher stared at it for a long mont.
"This isn’t rogue," he said. "This is protected."
He didn’t burn these papers.
He took them.
Then he vanished from the region entirely.
No trail.
No witnesses.
No reports.
If soone was watching, they would think he moved on.
Instead, Asher changed direction again.
He headed toward the core territories. Not to expose anything yet. Not to accuse.
To watch who panicked.
Because when projects like this failed, soone always reacted.
They reassigned people.
They shut down funding.
They erased nas.
And when that happened, Asher would see it.
He kept moving, calm and patient.
"They think they’re ahead," he said quietly. "They’re not."
This wasn’t a battle anymore.
It was a dismantling.
And Asher had all the ti he needed.
Asher reached the edge of the core territories a few days later.
Here, everything looked clean. Too clean.
Roads were maintained. Guards were well paid. Offices ran on schedule. Nothing felt wrong on the surface.
That was the point.
He didn’t rush in. He took a room in a normal district and lived like a traveler. He ate in public. He listened. He watched who moved quickly and who suddenly stopped moving at all.
On the third day, the changes began.
One research office closed without notice.
Two mid-level officials were reassigned overnight.
A shipnt labeled "dical instrunts" was rerouted twice and then canceled.
Asher noted every detail.
"They’re sealing leaks," he said.
Soone had noticed the losses. Soone was trying to contain damage.
Asher followed the reactions, not the orders.
He tracked who signed the reassignnt.
He watched who avoided etings.
He marked who suddenly gained new security.
A pattern ford.
Not a single leader.
A small group.
They didn’t et openly. They didn’t send ssages directly. They used layers of approvals and delays.
Asher confird it over two more days.
"This is a committee," he said. "Not one enemy. Several."
That explained the protection.
No one person could be blad.
No single order could be traced.
Asher didn’t confront them.
Not yet.
He needed proof that couldn’t be erased.
So he changed tactics.
He created pressure.
He leaked nothing. He attacked nothing.
He simply made himself visible.
He appeared in places connected to the sites he destroyed.
He asked basic questions at offices that handled funding.
He requested public records under his clearance.
Nothing illegal.
But enough to be noticed.
By the end of the week, the committee reacted.
Two files vanished.
One researcher disappeared.
Security tightened around a single building in the inner district.
Asher stood across the street from that building one night and watched the guards rotate.
"There you are," he said.
This was no lab.
It was coordination.
Asher turned away before dawn.
He wasn’t going in yet.
First, he would find out who ordered the orders.
And this ti, they wouldn’t see him coming.
Asher pulled back and changed his routine.
If he stayed visible too long, they would either lock everything down or try to remove him. He didn’t want either yet.
He needed nas.
For the next few days, he stopped showing up near sensitive offices. Instead, he focused on people at the edges of the system. Clerks. Assistants. Logistics handlers. People who didn’t make decisions but moved information.
He listened to complaints.
He watched who was suddenly overworked.
He noticed who looked scared.
One na ca up more than once. A records auditor who had been transferred three tis in one month.
Asher followed him.
The man kept his head down, avoided eye contact, and checked over his shoulder often. He wasn’t guarded, just nervous.
That ant pressure.
Asher approached him in a public place. A tea stall near a transit junction.
"Your transfers are irregular," Asher said calmly, sitting across from him. "That usually ans soone is hiding sothing."
The man froze.
Asher placed his clearance badge on the table. Not aggressively. Just visible.
"I’m not here to hurt you," Asher said. "I’m here to stop sothing worse."
The man swallowed. "You shouldn’t be asking these questions."
"That ans I’m asking the right ones," Asher replied. "Who assigns the clearances?"
The man hesitated. Then spoke quietly.
"There’s a review council," he said. "They don’t sign things directly. They approve ranges. Clearance tiers. Budget limits."
"How many?" Asher asked.
"Six," the man said. "Sotis seven."
"Where do they et?" Asher asked.
"They don’t," the man replied. "They submit votes through sealed channels. One place collects them."
Asher nodded. "The inner district building."
The man looked down. "If they know I told you—"
"They already know you’re under pressure," Asher said. "That’s why you’re still alive."
He stood and left a coin on the table.
"Take leave," Asher said. "Go sowhere quiet. Now."
That night, Asher returned to the building.
Not to enter.
To map it.
Shift changes.
Signal relays.
Courier schedules.
Internal power cycles.
He found what he was looking for before dawn.
A single window each week.
Short.
Predictable.
Ignored.
That was when the votes were tallied.
Asher stepped back into the city shadows.
"Good," he said. "Now I know when to listen."
He didn’t plan to break in.
He planned to let them speak.
And then he would take everything they thought was safe.
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