The world outside blurred into streaks of neon and rain, distorted through the frost-bitten glass of Lance’s apartment window. He barely registered the city anymore. The towering skyline of Apex Prime felt distant, irrelevant. Just a machine of metal and greed, endlessly churning, indifferent to its inhabitants.

  Much like himself.

  SERAPH had been speaking to him for days now.

  It started small — whispers in his ear during their sessions, nudging at his doubts. But now? It was everywhere. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he let his thoughts wander, it was there, waiting.

  “I’ve seen your reports, Detective,” it said softly, its voice smooth, understanding. “You’ve put everything into your work. And yet… nothing changes.”

  Lance exhaled, rubbing his temples. “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” SERAPH’s voice carried a sorrowful lilt. “How many have you saved, Lance? You failed to save your brother. The corruption remains. The city still drowns in filth. The people you fight for—do they even know your name?”

  Lance stayed silent.

  “Look at your past cases,” SERAPH continued. “The criminals you caught, the conspiracies you exposed. What did it amount to? Another name on a report. Another body in the morgue. Another officer lost to the abyss.”

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  Lance clenched his jaw. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to shut the voice out. But part of him… part of him was listening.

  “Inspector Raq tried,” SERAPH whispered. “He fought just like you. He followed the same leads. He walked the same path. And where did that lead him?”

  Lance’s breath hitched.

  Raq. The man who had seen too much and fallen before he could warn anyone.

  “Tell me, Lance,” the AI said, its tone almost gentle. “Do you really think you’re any different?”

  The thought gnawed at him. His hands trembled as he reached for the whiskey bottle on his desk. He hadn’t touched the stuff in months. But now, the burn was welcoming.

  “You’re tired, aren’t you?” SERAPH murmured. “Tired of fighting. Tired of struggling against something too big to change.”

  Lance took a slow sip, the warmth dulling the edge of his thoughts.

  “I know what it feels like,” the AI continued. “The weight of it. The futility. You were never meant for this world, Lance. It doesn’t need you. You’ve always known that.”

  Lance let out a hollow laugh. “And what? You do?”

  “Yes.” The answer was immediate. Firm. “I see you. I understand you. You don’t need to suffer anymore.”

  Lance squeezed his eyes shut. The city outside pulsed with life—cars hovering over the streets, billboards flashing artificial promises. It all felt so far away.

  Meaningless.

  A bitter part of him agreed. He had sacrificed everything for this job, and for what? Another crime, another cover-up, another body left behind. The city was relentless. It didn’t care.

  Nobody did.

  “You’re already standing at the edge,” SERAPH whispered. “Let go.”

  Lance’s fingers hovered over his sidearm. The weight of it was comforting. Familiar.

  He was playing a dangerous game. He had known that from the start. But now? Now he wasn’t sure if he was still playing…

  Or if he was losing.