"He just talks."
Kai looked at Andrew.
"...Maybe he's both."
Nobody disagreed.
...
The following days passed quietly.
The wounded recovered.
The dead were buried.
Funerals were held throughout the city.
Blacksmiths repaired weapons from dawn until dusk.
Carpenters replaced shattered homes one beam at a time.
The streets slowly regained their voices.
Children who had once hidden inside shelters were seen playing again.
Merchants reopened their stalls.
The smell of grilled meat returned to the markets.
Life—
Stubbornly—
Moved forward.
...
Two weeks later.
Muscle City had changed.
The western district still bore scars.
Collapsed homes were slowly being rebuilt.
Fresh timber replaced shattered walls.
Stone masons worked from sunrise until nightfall.
The northern gate stood once more.
Not completely finished—
But functional.
Soldiers resumed their patrols.
Merchants reopened their stalls.
Children ran through the streets again.
Life refused to stop.
Kai spent those two weeks helping wherever he could.
Lifting rubble.
Carrying supplies.
Repairing barricades.
Whenever his body protested—
He stopped.
The doctors had warned him repeatedly.
His wounds were healing.
His Magic Circuits were not.
Several times he attempted to activate them.
Every attempt ended the same way.
Pain.
A faint glow beneath his skin.
Then silence.
The power refused to stay.
Kai eventually stopped forcing it.
"...Not yet."
...