Chapter 110: Praises and Pitfalls
The banners hung like victory scars across the silver plaza of District 6’s Concord Spire.
Twin rows of holographic columns shimmered blue and gold, each one replaying a dozen angles of the same manufactured glory: Hernan Vale—code-named Rook—slamming his fist into the chest of a rogue Vaskari warlord. A split-second later, the alien’s exosuit burst open in a supernova of light and blood, his body flung back like a toy tossed by a god.
The crowd cheered every time the loop restarted.
Hover-cams floated in formation overhead, each feeding clean feeds to the major newsnets, slicing the battle into digestible, heroic fragments. Somewhere in the city, someone was already buying an action figure.
Hernan stood now on a raised platform beside the District Governor, the Hero Association envoy, and three low-tier local heroes who hadn’t fired a single shot. His black field uniform gleamed beneath the stage lights—polished chestplate removed to seem more personable, gold-trimmed undersuit smoothed flat by stylists backstage. No visible scars. No cracks in the mask.
The blood had been scrubbed hours ago. The stain in his mind was still fresh.
The mic popped once. Static sizzled.
"District 6 stands safe today," the Governor boomed, his smile stretched too wide to be real. "Because one young man stepped in where legends once stood. He didn’t wait for orders. He didn’t ask for backup. He acted."
Thunderous applause. A drone whirred so close to Hernan’s face he could feel the pulse of its repulsors in his cheekbone.
The Governor turned to him with an outstretched hand. "Rook Vale—our Hero of the New Age."
Hernan stepped forward into the floodlights.