CHAPTER 244: INVITATION

"Adyr, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. Are you free?" Henry’s face appeared on the wristband’s small screen, wearing a friendly smile as he spoke.

"It’s fine. I was just having breakfast with my family," Adyr said flatly. "Go ahead."

Henry gave a calm nod, noticing that Adyr didn’t seem concerned about speaking in front of the others.

"There are a few things, actually. First—the part you’ll probably be most pleased about. If you check your merit points, you’ll see that your share from the Spark sales has been added to your balance."

With a couple of taps on his wristband, Adyr opened his profile and checked the merit point log. His balance had increased by 15,000, bringing the total to 31,860.

It wasn’t an extraordinary amount—20,000 had already come from the mission that saved Shelter City 8—but considering this reward had been split between Selina and the others, it wasn’t bad. Clearly, they’d allocated more than 70% of the Spark earnings to his share.

Still, that wasn’t the real reward. Henry’s grin widened as he continued.

"Also, the research team made a breakthrough regarding the uniform you’re currently using. They were analyzing the Cannibal’s body to improve its defensive capabilities, and now, with the properties of the Augmeslime Spark you provided, they’re expecting to release version two within a couple of days. I don’t want to spoil the whole thing, but this next version won’t just double the regeneration rate—it will also adapt in real time, hardening on impact while staying flexible during movement."

Adyr was genuinely satisfied by that. This was exactly why he’d handed over both the Cannibal and the new Sparks to the Player Headquarters.

An upgrade to his uniform wasn’t just convenient—it was essential. Having gear that could regenerate was already a major asset, saving him from constant replacements. But now, if the armor could also function as reactive protection, that would be a substantial improvement.

He wasn’t sure just how effective the new material would be. But considering the toughness of the Cannibal’s skin—and that of other first-generation Spark mutants—it was unlikely to disappoint. He still remembered how, without Malice active, his blade had struggled to cut through them.

They were far tougher than they looked. And now that same resilience would be stitched into his gear.

As he processed the news, Adyr’s eyes flicked subtly toward the others at the table.

None of them said a word. They kept eating in silence, pretending not to listen—but their faces betrayed them. He could see the tension. The unease.

Marielle’s reaction stood out most. The moment the name "Cannibal" was mentioned, her posture stiffened. Her skin paled slightly, and her grip on the utensil tightened. It wasn’t a full breakdown, but the shift was visible.

That was progress. She wasn’t collapsing at the mention of the name. It meant her mind was adapting—slowly building tolerance to the trauma.

Neris, Boy, and Zelda also appeared slightly uncomfortable but seemed to be handling it better than Marielle.

Adyr turned back to his wrist device. "These are good news. What about the bad ones?"

Henry gave a small laugh. "I wouldn’t call it bad. But... maybe inconvenient. You can ignore it if you want."

He paused, watching for a reaction, then continued: "The City Manager is going live today—a few hours from now. He’ll be in the main square, answering questions. Explaining the PTF’s role in the new world order.

They’re hoping you’ll show up, just for a few minutes. It’ll be broadcast across all 12 cities. Millions will be watching. This is also the moment where the public might decide what name to attach to you going forward."

Adyr was quiet for a moment. He couldn’t care less about a broadcast. Or what surname people chose to call him.

"Aren’t they worried about inviting me to a live broadcast?" He asked, exhaling faintly.

Henry understood the question right away.

The others at the table noticed too. They watched Adyr—the distant look in his eyes, the emptiness in his voice—and a quiet sadness settled over them.

They believed he was haunted by something. That an unknown force had caused thousands of deaths through him, and that he carried the weight of those losses.

In some ways, they were right. But what they didn’t know was that those deaths did not affect him.

They saw guilt in his silence.

What they couldn’t see was the truth: he felt no guilt at all.

They still had no idea what he really was.

"Is it something you can control?" Henry’s voice was serious. Maybe the City Manager didn’t care, but Henry needed to be sure.

"Yes." Adyr’s tone was firm.

"Then just keep it under control." A relieved sigh escaped Henry.

The idea of a living weapon like that roaming freely—one capable of killing with just a glance—was already terrifying. If that power ever slipped out of control, everything would descend into chaos.

"There’s a vehicle coming in an hour if you decide to go. Like I said, you don’t have to. This broadcast is mostly to calm people down and give them the explanations they deserve. You don’t need to carry that extra weight." Henry’s tone was firm.

He clearly didn’t want Adyr involved in anything unnecessary—or anything that might unsettle him.

"I’ll think about it. Thanks for looking out." Adyr gave a slight smile. After a few more quick words, the call ended.

"I think you should go," Niva said quietly, her soft voice barely reaching him as he looked at her.

"Why? You want your brother to be famous?" Adyr asked with a dry, teasing smile.

Niva smiled too. "You already are. But honestly, I’d rather you stayed ordinary... just my nobody brother."

Her smile faded. Her eyes dropped, and she lowered her head. Her voice softened again, this time tinged with hesitation. It was clear she was unsure whether to speak, but in the end, the words slipped out.

"I just don’t want people to see you as the villain. I know the truth. Those deaths weren’t your fault. You’ve always been... caring. Thoughtful. I just wish others could see that instead of judging you."

Adyr paused. This gentle expression—the one he’d worn around his family for as long as he could remember—was nothing more than a mask. But hearing those words from Niva, one of the few he’d ever truly cared for, struck something deep beneath his surface.

If only you knew, little sister... what kind of monster your brother really is.

He drew in a quiet breath, steadying himself, then offered a faint, almost reluctant smile. Reaching out, he ruffled her hair softly.

"Alright. I’ll do that."

"Really?" Niva lifted her head, her bright blue eyes locking with his. She cared deeply and wanted the world to see who he truly was. "If it’s too much, you don’t have to. I’m not forcing you."

Adyr chuckled, as casual as always. "It’s fine. Just a short speech. I’ll make them see I’m not who they think I am. That’s it."

Niva’s eyes brightened again, and the others at the table smiled in quiet approval. But none noticed the faint, playful glint hidden beneath his smile.