Chapter 245: What It Means To Be A Supervisor [Edited]

The laughter from the evening market, Katie’s endless chatter about seashells, and Julie’s muffled editing rants had finally settled into deep, undisturbed sleep as they returned to their suite.

At the very end of the wooden pier, sitting cross-legged where the boards met the open sea, Nicholas sat in absolute silence.

Still wearing the same trousers. His bare chest and shoulders caught the cool ocean breeze, the faint scars from his battles etched like pale maps across his skin.

His eyes were closed.

He didn’t summon the system interface. He didn’t open his copy slots or touch the massive reservoir of Charm Points that had accumulated after the global broadcast.

He searched for the current.

Zero had called it Qi. Ki. Willpower given form. The raw, biological desire that predated the arrival of the Plague itself.

’If I can understand it better, then I might be able to use my ability without having to worry about charm points anymore.’

Now, in the calm of the open ocean, Nicholas attempted to guide that same spark deliberately.

He breathed in slowly through his nose, drawing the cool sea air deep into the base of his lungs. With each exhale, he visualised the warm, molten current of his own Qi pooling at his core.

He gathered the white-hot threads, coaxing them along the major meridians of his torso, through the locked bone of his right collarbone, and down into the bruised cartilage of his lower left ribs.

It was like guiding hot liquid glass through narrow glass tubes.

A sharp, searing heat bloomed along his sternum. The internal micro-fractures throbbed, resisting the pressure for several long seconds before the warmth settled into the bone.

He channeled the current further, extending the threads into the palms of his hands.

The skin across his knuckles prickled slightly. A faint, translucent white sheen hovered above his skin.

’It responds to clarity,’ Nicholas realised, his breathing levelling out into a steady, four-second cadence. ’The moment the mind hesitates, the current scatters. Zero wasn’t just swinging a sharp sword; his mind was entirely committed to a single, unyielding concept. If the desire is split, the Qi breaks.’

He let the energy cycle three more times, feeling the deep fatigue in his chest gradually dissolve into a clean, grounding strength.

A faint, rhythmic creak echoed from the boardwalk behind him.

Nicholas didn’t reach for a weapon. He recognised the gait instantly—light, measured, shifting slightly on the outer edge of the foot to compensate for old knee fatigue.

He opened both eyes, watching the moonlight ripple across the calm water as Selena walked onto the dock.

She wore an oversized white cotton button-up shirt over soft shorts, the sleeves rolled loosely past her wrists, the dark volcanic stone bracelet he had bought her resting against her left arm. In her hands, she carried two tall glass tumblers filled with ice, dark island rum, and fresh lime.

"Don’t you think you’re pushing yourself too hard?" Selena said softly, her voice barely carrying over the lap of the waves. "What are you up to now? Have you finally turned into a monk like Tianzun?"

"I was testing something," Nicholas replied, not shifting from his crossed-legged posture.

"You’re supposed to be on vacation, Nicholas," Selena murmured, walking to the edge of the pier.

She sat down beside him, letting her bare legs dangle over the dark water below.

"Doctor Cho would have an aneurysm if he saw you doing this."

"Doctor Cho charges three hundred percent overtime," Nicholas said, taking a sip. "I pay for his right to complain."

Selena let out a quiet, soft laugh that melted into the ocean breeze.

She stared out at the dark horizon where the black water met the starlit sky. For several minutes, neither of them spoke. The air between them was quiet, easy, and completely unburdened.

Nicholas glanced sideways at her.

In the silver moonlight, there was a faint, lingering shadow in her eyes.

"You couldn’t sleep," Nicholas stated, not as a question, but as a plain fact.

Selena looked down at the ice melting in her glass, swirling it.

"Yeah. This place is very beautiful but very loud." Selena admitted, her voice dropping into a low, vulnerable register.

She took a slow sip, her fingers tracing the rim of the glass.

"When I was twenty, right before I got my A-rank supervisor certification, I was assigned to field-evaluate three new B-rank recruits," Selena began softly. "It’s always the same for everyone... They were young. Eager. They wore their capes like they were bulletproof, laughing about how many fans they were going to get on the morning forums."

Her jaw tightened slightly.

"But that all changed when we walked into an impure hive. It was a set-up from an A-ranked impure. The lead hero got separated in the tunnels, and by the time I managed to extract the other two, the leader had already been dragged into the nest. I had to stand at the tunnel entrance, listen to him calling for backup over the comm line, and order the blast doors sealed to contain the outbreak."

She looked at her reflection in the dark sea below.

"That’s what being a supervisor actually is, Nicholas. Everyone thinks we just hand out assignments and negotiate salaries. But the truth is... we are the ones who sign the death certificates. We watch them awaken, we watch them fight, and eventually, we watch them die."

Her voice wavered for a fraction of a second before she steadied it.

"My brother, Cisco... he was the same. He had that ridiculous, stubborn confidence you carry around. He told me he could handle Dr. Bane alone. He told me not to worry, that he’d come home for dinner. But who knew I would have to stand behind a reinforced barrier and watch his skull get crushed."

She closed her eyes, the memory cutting through her composure like broken glass.

"Every time you walk into a fight with broken bones, every time you step in front of an attack to protect someone else... I see him. And I remember no matter how strong you are, I could someday lose you."

Nicholas didn’t offer empty platitudes. He didn’t tell her that it wasn’t her fault, or that everything happened for a reason. In his line of work, platitudes were cheap lies told by cowards who couldn’t face the weight of a corpse.

"You made the right call at the tunnel," Nicholas said, his voice flat, steady, and unyielding as stone.

Selena opened her eyes, looking at him in surprise.

"If you hadn’t sealed the door, the hive breached the perimeter, the other two died in the retreat, and thirty civilians in the outer district got torn to shreds before other heroes arrived," Nicholas continued, looking her dead in the eye. "You didn’t kill him, Selena. The monster killed him. Your job was to keep the loss at one instead of thirty."

He leaned his back against the dock railing, his dark blue eyes reflecting the starlight.

"People die in this work. Sometimes they die because they’re arrogant. Sometimes they die because the enemy was stronger. And sometimes they die because luck ran out. A supervisor isn’t a god; you don’t control the outcome."

He held up his left hand, showing the pale, fading scars along his knuckles.

"When I step in front of an attack, it’s not because I have a death wish or a hero complex. It’s because I know I could survive the impact, and letting Nectron or Vixen take that hit would’ve been bad."

A faint, dry smirk touched his lips.

"Besides, you already paid for my dry cleaning. So I can’t die; if I do, who’s going to take the clothes?"

Selena stared at him for a long, quiet moment.

The heavy, suffocating knot of grief and guilt that had lived in her chest for years seemed to loosen, unspooling under the weight of his blunt, uncompromising honesty.

There was no pity in his face—only the profound understanding of a fellow survivor who had walked through the same blood and refused to look away.

A soft, genuine smile slowly broke across Selena’s face, completely washing away the tired lines around her eyes.

"You are so infuriatingly pragmatic," Selena whispered, shaking her head as she leaned her shoulder lightly against his.

"It’s a marketable skill," Nicholas replied, not pulling away from the contact.

The sea breeze rustled through the palm trees on the shore, carrying the rhythmic splash of the waves below.

Under the vast, silver expanse of the midnight sky, the cold mercenary armour and the strict supervisor facade dropped away entirely, leaving only two people sitting close on the edge of the world, finding peace in the quiet dark.