CHAPTER 158: KEISHA

The city was still breathing.

Neon lights flickered lazily on cracked lamp posts. Voices chattered faintly beneath the buildings. Somewhere, someone laughed. A hovercar zipped past overhead, its soft hum mingling with the distant buzz of life. But amidst all that noise, amidst all that brightness—he was a ghost.

Elius walked with a slow, steady gait. His attire had changed.

The majestic robe woven with cultivation silk and floating threads of spiritual essence had vanished. Replaced now with something far more mundane—denim pants, a charcoal gray hoodie, a faded ball cap tugged low over his brow.

From the outside, he looked like any other lanky teenager with his hands tucked in his pockets, head down, quietly minding his own business.

But beneath the skin of normalcy, Elius watched everything.

The streets of Sector 18 bustled with activity.

A children’s arcade to his right lit up the faces of dozens of laughing kids. Parents chatted under the warm glow of noodle stands. He moved past them, shoulders slouched to avoid drawing eyes. A couple bumped into him—he whispered a soft apology. The woman smiled faintly, already forgetting his face.

"Sector 18... She’s not here," Elius murmured, just loud enough for the wind to hear.

He walked further. A small outdoor café, filled with college students discussing hero theory and recent academy gossip. Elius sat at the edge, ordered a hot tea, and listened. He asked the waitress, "Have there been any incidents here lately? Like... supervillain sightings?"

The waitress laughed, waving off the question like it was common talk. "Please, every week there’s something new. You just get used to it."

Elius smiled politely. "Right."

The moment she walked away, his eyes turned steel cold again. His fingers tapped the rim of the porcelain cup. His mind was elsewhere.

"She’s not here."

He stood and left before the tea cooled.

Sector 12 came next. An open park surrounded by half-abandoned corporate buildings.

Children played by the rusty fountain, the water shooting in uneven spurts. An old man fed pigeons near a broken bench. Elius approached him, his hoodie pulled up further.

"Sir," he said, lowering his voice, "do you remember any strange figures coming by here? A girl, maybe. Long black hair, likes to sing?"

The old man stared blankly, squinting. "Singin’? Only thing singin’ ’round here is my joints in the cold." He laughed dryly.

Elius offered a smile again. "Of course. Thanks."

As he turned to leave, he whispered once more.

"She’s not here."

He kept moving.

Sector 3. The marketplace district. Neon signs flashed in languages both ancient and modern. A magical tarot reader sat beneath a red tent, advertising "True Love Finder for the Lost and Lonely."

Elius ducked under the fabric, sitting before the woman. She was blind in one eye, but her aura pulsed with a strange passive spiritual sensitivity but Elius is not sure if she knew what she is doing. He placed a coin on the table.

"Can you tell me if a girl came here recently? She would have had a quiet aura. Her name might not be known to you, but she’s drawn to people in trouble."

The fortune teller tilted her head, the single eye narrowing.

"Why do you seek her?"

"She once helped me," Elius said quietly. "Now it’s my turn."

The woman placed her hand over the coin and whispered an incantation. Wisps of smoke danced above the table.

She shook her head. "The one you seek... was here once. Not long ago. But not now. You’re behind the trail."

Elius bowed. "Thank you."

As he stepped back into the crowd, he murmured, "She’s not here either."

He wandered into a subway station, where artificial winds rushed through the tunnels like echoes from a forgotten world. The place smelled of rust, grease, and tired people. A janitor pushed a mop slowly across the floor. A couple of teenagers with headphones bobbed their heads to inaudible bass. Elius leaned against the wall and simply watched.

He asked a commuter, "Has anyone been passing through here often? Someone who looks like they don’t belong?"

The man blinked at him. "Buddy, this is a subway. No one belongs."

Elius chuckled faintly, turning away.

"Again, she’s not here," he told the wind again.

His path took him to the rooftop of a low-rise apartment building in the Naraka fringe district.

The sky above was slightly hazed with city smog. He crouched beside a rusted water tank, watching two little kids playing below. He remembered a time when she used to bring sweets to children like that. Keisha. Always gentle. Always thinking about others.

He closed his eyes.

"Where are you hiding?"

Hours passed. The sky darkened. The moon crawled up slowly behind clouds like a watchful eye.

Elius moved again.

Sector 7 was quieter. A more isolated region known for its observatory dome and research centers.

Scientists passed by in lab coats, tired from a day of experiments. Elius approached a vending machine, pretended to select something, and struck up a conversation with a man nearby. "Do you work here?" he asked casually.

"Yeah, astrophysics division. Why?"

"I heard someone with psychic talents worked here once. She wore a pendant of three rings. Ever seen her?"

The man thought for a moment. "Hmm... There was a girl like that. Kind eyes. Didn’t say much. I think she left last week."

Elius’s expression didn’t change, but his heart ached a little.

"Yet, she’s not here either."

He thanked the man and walked away, passing through a narrow alley behind the observatory.

There, he stopped and placed his palm against the concrete wall. He let his spiritual sense flow forward. Traces of memory clung to this place. Emotions. Thoughts. Whispers of people who had once been here.

She had passed through. But not today.

"She’s not here again."

The search continued.

He visited a small soup kitchen in the underground tunnels. A sanctuary for the unwanted, the rejected. People huddled around warm bowls, trading stories. He helped wash dishes, keep the fire going. Asked the workers questions. No sign of her. Not even a whisper.

He handed a sandwich to a starving child. "You seen a lady with a braid, soft voice, smells like lavender?"

The child blinked. "Lavender? What’s that?"

Elius laughed softly and shook his head.

"She’s not here."

And yet... he didn’t stop.

Each district. Each public square. Each corner of the urban sprawl where people gathered—he passed like a shadow, asked like a stranger, lingered like a breeze, and always left with the same words murmured to the wind.

"She’s not here."

He was beginning to think maybe she’d left the city.

Maybe she was somewhere far beyond his reach.

But then, in a quieter neighborhood... a street lit by yellow lanterns instead of neon...

He saw her.

She stood by the entrance of a bookstore. Her hair was tied in a familiar braid, her hands cradling a book too large for her small frame. She was smiling faintly while the shopkeeper fussed with the receipt.

Elius stopped.

"I see..." he whispered.

And this time, he smiled.

"Keisha is here."

He would show a strange tugging smile on his face like a smirk and he would mumble, "Keith’s mother, they are so careless..."