Chapter 7 — Signals

  Adrian got back to his dorm just before sunset.

  He didn’t turn on the lights immediately.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, jacket still on, staring at the dark window.

  Cisco’s voice replayed in his head.

  “He is not your enemy… but he doesn’t have the same goal either.”

  That line.

  That was new.

  Different from what he expected.

  If Cassian wasn’t his enemy — fine.

  But different goals?

  Adrian leaned back slowly.

  If they both received titles…

  If both were chosen…

  If both were operating in the same city…

  Then logically—

  Their objectives should align.

  Exterminate demons.

  Close rifts.

  Stabilize the world before Judgement Day.

  Simple.

  Unless…

  He stopped himself.

  No.

  Insufficient data.

  He exhaled slowly and rubbed his eyes.

  Speculation without evidence was amateur trading behavior.

  You don’t enter a position based on “vibes.”

  You enter based on qualitative and quantitative convergence.

  Right now?

  He had neither.

  Only one data point:

  A demon embedded in financial infrastructure claiming Cassian’s goal was different.

  And that source had every incentive to manipulate him.

  Professional analysts could lie.

  CEOs could posture.

  Demons could strategize.

  He straightened slightly.

  Conclusion:

  Insufficient dataset.

  Hold position.

  Observe further signals.

  Adrian almost felt better framing it like a market.

  Emotion distorts valuation.

  And right now—

  His emotions were volatile.

  He finally turned on the desk lamp and opened his laptop.

  Notifications flooded in.

  DemonHunter06 — Live Stream Archive — 1,023 subscribers.

  He blinked.

  Scrolled.

  Comments poured in beneath his abandoned hospital video.

  “BRO THE GROWL AT 17:42 WAS REAL.”

  “THIS IS THE BEST GHOST CONTENT ON YT RN.”

  “WHY DOES HE SOUND LIKE HE’S ACTUALLY FIGHTING SOMETHING???”

  “DROP YOUR GEAR SETUP.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “FACE REVEAL AT 10K?”

  Adrian leaned back.

  A slow smile formed.

  1,000.

  Not viral.

  But real.

  Organic growth.

  Niche dominance.

  He hadn’t consciously acknowledged it before—

  But this…

  This feeling.

  This was what he loved.

  Not the achievement itself.

  The reaction to the achievement.

  The comments.

  The speculation.

  The curiosity.

  He refreshed the page again.

  More engagement.

  His analytics tab showed steady upward trajectory.

  Low competition niche.

  High curiosity.

  Untapped market.

  Urban exorcism livestream.

  He exhaled softly.

  He couldn’t register as a hero.

  Wouldn’t.

  Not with demonic physiology.

  If the public saw him transform—

  He’d be hunted.

  Categorized.

  Probably labeled a Humanity Threat.

  So this was the compromise.

  Anonymous vigilante.

  Small scale.

  Controlled visibility.

  A brand without identity.

  After all—

  It was a niche market not many could explore.

  Because most people didn’t have the ability.

  Like him.

  His smile faded slightly as he closed the analytics tab.

  He didn’t crave applause.

  He craved being seen achieving.

  There was a difference.

  He just didn’t dwell on it.

  Adrian opened a new tab.

  Typed:

  “Local haunted locations near campus.”

  Reddit threads.

  Urban legend blogs.

  TikTok clips.

  Then one thread caught his eye.

  Title:

  “2AM Lady at Westbridge Campus — Real???”

  He clicked.

  Multiple posts over the past three weeks.

  Witness accounts.

  Security footage too grainy to confirm.

  Allegation:

  Every Saturday at exactly 2:00 a.m.,

  a tall female figure with long black hair

  walks across the old humanities wing

  and sometimes near the residence halls.

  Never attacks.

  Never speaks.

  Just walks.

  One user posted:

  “She disappears when approached.”

  Another:

  “My friend swears the temperature dropped 20 degrees.”

  Adrian’s eyes narrowed.

  Patterned timing.

  Localized manifestation.

  Not random.

  That wasn’t typical chaotic demon behavior.

  That sounded like—

  A residual anomaly.

  Possibly ghost-class.

  Low aggression.

  High consistency.

  He leaned back.

  His school was located near several major financial institutions.

  If superpowered heists happened—

  They would be high profile.

  Police and registered heroes would swarm instantly.

  He had no interest in colliding with official response teams.

  Especially not if Spark was involved.

  He preferred smaller operations.

  Local legends.

  Contained disturbances.

  Stay under the radar.

  For now.

  He glanced at the clock.

  Wednesday.

  Saturday was three days away.

  2:00 a.m.

  Perfect timing.

  Campus mostly empty.

  Low risk.

  He closed the tab and stared at his reflection in the darkened laptop screen.

  His eyes were faintly tinted red again.

  Unstable.

  Inefficient.

  Greed’s words echoed once more.

  Power that grows strategically becomes indispensable.

  Fine.

  He’d grow.

  But on his terms.

  Not in boardrooms.

  Not through stock acquisitions.

  Through bodies.

  Through sealed rifts.

  Through accumulated dark mana.

  If Cassian operated in daylight—

  He would dominate the dark.

  Adrian shut the laptop.

  Set an alarm reminder:

  Saturday — 1:30 a.m. — Humanities Wing

  He lay down.

  Ceiling above him.

  Dorm quiet.

  For a moment—

  Just a moment—

  He wondered what Cassian was doing right now.

  Training?

  Sleeping peacefully?

  Planning something he couldn’t see?

  He turned to his side.

  Irrelevant.

  Insufficient data.

  Observe. Adapt. Accumulate.

  Outside, somewhere in the city, markets moved.

  Rifts pulsed.

  And in the financial district, Cisco Moretti smiled at numbers that weren’t just numbers.

  Saturday would come soon.

  And something was walking his campus at 2 a.m.