Chapter 56: Ending Things
~Hero Necro’s Apartment ~
The ceiling fan hummed lazily overhead, its slow blades pushing warm air around the living room. Outside, the sun was beginning to dip beyond the horizon, bathing the apartment in a soft orange glow that filtered through the curtains.
Ace sat hunched over on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed blankly on the floor. His hair was messy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept well in days.
Across from him, Zia sat curled up on the single-seater, her legs pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her eyes were swollen from too many silent tears, her fingers trembling slightly as she held onto her sleeves like they were the only thing grounding her.
"He’s not back," Ace said quietly, breaking the long silence.
Zia didn’t respond. She simply nodded, her chin resting on her knees.
Ace leaned back and exhaled. "It’s been four days now."
"I know," she whispered.
Ace turned his head toward her. "You still haven’t told me why he left so suddenly. Did something happen that night?"
Zia closed her eyes, face tightening with guilt. "Yeah." She paused and then continued. "I made a mistake."
Ace waited, not pushing.
"I went into his room," she finally said. Her voice was barely audible. "After Miranda left... I—I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn’t. I just... I couldn’t stop myself."
She looked down at her hands, her voice shaking. "I told him I loved him. That I wanted to be with him. I even touched him without asking, thinking maybe... maybe if I did what Miranda did, he’d look at me the same way."
Ace blinked slowly, his expression unreadable.
"But he pushed me away. Told me to come back to my senses. And then he left."
Zia wiped the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand. "He hasn’t come back since. And I don’t blame him."
Ace sat in silence for a long moment. Then he let out a tired sigh. "Zia... you’ve always had feelings for him, haven’t you?"
She nodded, wordlessly.
Ace leaned forward again. "Then why did you keep pretending like you didn’t?"
"Because I knew it didn’t matter," she muttered. "He never looked at me like that. Not even once. I just... I got tired of pretending. I wanted to be seen for once."
Ace’s gaze softened. "You messed up, yeah. But I don’t think that means he’s never coming back. He’s not that kind of guy."
Zia gave a small, broken laugh. "I know. But what if he’s changed? What if I’ve changed how he sees me... forever?"
"You’ll have to face that when he gets back." Ace stood and walked to the window, pushing aside the curtain to look at the street. "Until then, all we can do is wait."
Zia didn’t respond. She curled tighter into herself, letting the silence fall over them again like a heavy blanket.
The room remained still, the ticking clock the only sound that dared to speak.
After what seemed like an eternity, they began to hear faint footsteps approaching the doorstep.
Zia’s eyes lit up in anticipation.
The door creaked open slowly. The warm orange glow from the dying sun met Alex’s tired face as he stepped inside, his black coat hanging loosely over his shoulders, dust clinging to the hems.
Ace turned around. His eyes widened just slightly, a breath catching in his throat. "You’re back, Captain."
Zia’s head snapped up. Her swollen eyes locked onto Alex as he stood silently by the door, expression unreadable, shadows falling across his face from the dim lighting.
Alex nodded. "I’m back."
He didn’t move further into the room right away, his gaze drifting briefly over the both of them, like he was measuring the weight of whatever he’d missed. Eventually, he took a step forward, moving past the living room and heading straight to his room without another word.
Ace looked at Zia, then back at the hallway Alex disappeared into. "Guess we’re not the only ones who’ve been waiting," he muttered.
Zia slowly stood, legs shaky, and after a long moment of hesitation, she followed Alex down the corridor.
She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, unlacing his boots, his coat already discarded on the floor. His movements were tired, like every second carried the weight of a hundred battles.
Zia lingered at the doorway. "Captain..."
He didn’t turn. "You don’t have to say anything, just leave."
"But I want to, I don’t want to leave," she said softly, stepping into the room. "I shouldn’t have... done what I did. I lost control of my feelings, and I crossed a line."
His hands stilled, resting on his knee.
"I just wanted to be seen," she continued, voice cracking. "But I never stopped to think about what you needed. I’m sorry. I promise... it won’t happen again."
Alex remained quiet for a moment. Then he finally looked up at her.
"I don’t hate you, Zia," he said simply. "But this life... it doesn’t leave room for anything that isn’t in control."
Zia nodded. "I know. I’ll keep my distance, if that’s what you want."
Alex didn’t answer, just gave her a small, tired nod. Zia lingered for a heartbeat more, then turned to leave.
Just before she stepped out, Alex’s phone vibrated.
He picked it up, eyes narrowing as he read the message.
"Shadow’s on the move again. Your orders are simple: stop him. This time, he doesn’t leave alive."
His jaw tightened. The weight of his return was already setting in. He had just finished dealing with Emily and now this...
He stood, his expression hardening like a mask sliding into place. "I have to go," he said.
Zia turned around. "Now?" She asked, worried about him. She didn’t know where he had been for days but he looked really tired.
"Shadow, he is on the move again and he won’t wait." He grabbed his coat and slung it over his shoulders again.
"Him again. Well be careful, captain," she whispered.
Alex paused in the doorway, glanced at her over his shoulder. "Always."
-----
The location sent to him was an abandoned hospital.
The night had swallowed the sun. Darkness clung to the world like damp fog as Alex stood silently across the street from the hospital, its broken windows and crumbling structure standing tall like a corpse refusing to lie down. The sign overhead still flickered weakly—Crescent Valley Medical Center—even though it had been shut down years ago.
Alex’s breath formed a thin mist in the cool air. He tightened the gloves around his fingers, pulling the hood of his coat higher over his head as he crossed the road.
The hospital was quiet. Even the rats seemed to know better than to linger near this place tonight.
He stepped through the shattered front doors, glass crunching under his boots. The scent of mold, decay, and faint blood clung to the air like ghosts still wandering the halls.
The message had been clear: Shadow was seen here an hour ago. This is your only shot, fail and face the consequences.
Alex moved quickly, his senses sharpening with each step. The world seemed to slow around him—heartbeat steady, breath calm, ears listening to every creak and whisper inside the building.
He passed rusted wheelchairs, overturned gurneys, and hanging IV lines swaying in the wind that leaked through broken windows. The deeper he went, the colder it got, like the walls themselves were breathing with unseen life.
Then he heard it, approaching footsteps.
Light, careful, like someone trying not to be heard. But Alex had been hunting things in the dark for too long to be fooled. As such, he followed instantly.
He turned down a long corridor, moonlight slicing through the cracks in the ceiling above. The operating rooms on either side were empty—except one.
Alex stepped into the room and there he was — Shadow.
He was standing in the middle of the room like he belonged there, cloak billowing slightly as if caught in a breeze that didn’t exist. His face was mostly hidden beneath his hood, but his presence was unmistakable—heavy, confident, dangerous.
"You’re late, Necro," Shadow said, his voice echoing softly through the room.
Alex’s eyes narrowed beneath his hood. "Didn’t realize we had an appointment."
Shadow chuckled, taking a single step forward. "They’re sending you after me now? How desperate have they become?"
"You’ve killed too many people to be let loose any longer."
"And yet, here we are. Just you and me. No backup?"
"I don’t need backup."
Shadow’s body shifted slightly. A swirl of dark energy curled around his fingertips like smoke eager to devour light. "Then prove it."
Alex didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, shadows and fists clashing in a flurry of motion that shook the hospital’s foundations.
Shadow’s tendrils of darkness lashed out like vipers, hissing through the air. Alex ducked under the first strike, twisting his body with trained precision, boots skidding across the cracked tiles as he drew a weapon from beneath his coat—a shimmer of gold flashing beneath the dim moonlight.
The golden dagger. Its curved blade pulsed faintly, humming with magic. The intricate runes along its edge gleamed as Alex gripped it tightly, his knuckles white.
Shadow’s eyes narrowed beneath his hood. "So that’s the blade they gave you."
Alex didn’t answer. He moved.
