The temple doors groaned shut behind me, their bronze panels grinding like teeth. Outside, the heat clung to me immediately—thick, dusty, heavy. I stood there for a long moment, letting the sunlight burn against my eyelids, trying to piece myself back together.
Everything felt… tilted.
I was still me—but my thoughts weren't lining up in the neat, orderly rows they were supposed to. Something from that system… that voice… that "Activation Sequence" had gotten inside my mental shelves and rearranged the books.
Not violently.
Worse.
Subtly.
Like it wanted me to think the disorder was natural.
My heartbeat stabilized. My breathing steadied. I forced my mind to lock into its usual formation—categorize, evaluate, predict. I had spent years training it. Emotions in one box. Logic in another. Fear quarantined behind reinforced walls.
But now? Thoughts kept slipping past the walls like vapor.
This wasn't good.
I stepped down the temple stairs and into the sparse stretch of land outside the Dusk Quarter. A few acolytes passed me, giving me the same detached nods everyone used for anyone coming out of a temple ritual—polite, distant, pretending they didn't wonder what you begged the gods for.
I clutched the money bag tighter.
Half the money inside wasn't even mine.
I needed to return.
---
I took three steps toward the market when the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
Someone was following me.
Two shadows. No—three. Walking at just the wrong rhythm, matching mine a little too perfectly. When I angled right, they angled right. When I slowed, they slowed.
Perfect.
Exactly what I needed after that temple mind-scramble.
I cursed under my breath. "Of course. Today. Why not?"
I tried to pretend I didn't notice, weaving through a pottery stand, then a spice table—but they adjusted. The biggest one bumped a stall intentionally, knocking over a tray of dried peppers just to keep pace.
I tightened my grip on the money bag.
One of them whispered something.
The others laughed.
And that was it.
I bolted.
Straight through the narrow gap between two laundry lines, nearly tearing a sheet off its rope. A woman shouted at me, but I didn't stop. My sandals slapped the stone. My breathing sharpened. My thoughts snapped into survival mode.
Behind me—
"GET HIM!"
Great.
Chase music.
My life really needed chase music right now.
I cut left into a cramped alley, dodging two brothers wrestling over a broomstick. Someone tried to grab me from a doorway—I ducked. A clay pot smashed behind me. Somebody threw something. Wind crackled.
Magic.
No—low-grade runes.
Cheap, noisy, and painful.
A burst of red energy slammed into the wall inches from my shoulder, spraying sparks. I stumbled, heart hammering.
"Stop running, Rin!"
"Drop the bag!"
"Oh gods," I hissed. "They're powered idiots—my favorite kind."
I darted through a broken fence, up a short slope, across a courtyard of abandoned laundry baskets.
But they were closing fast.
One of them activated a momentum charm—his footsteps boomed, echoing unnaturally loud. He shot forward like gravity had been bribed to help him.
A hand grabbed my shirt.
I tore free.
The money bag nearly slipped from my grip.
I reached the edge of a wall and jumped it without thinking. Bad choice.
I didn't clear it.
I slammed into it chest-first, stumbled, fell on my side, rolled—
And hands grabbed me.
Three of them.
They pinned me down before I could get fully up.
"Where you running to, hmm?" the biggest one asked, breath thick with street liquor. Turns out they literally allowed the other houses to do what they wanted but us. "We saw the bag. We want what's inside."
"God. You know how this things work t's not for me," I managed. "It's for the White House."
"The Whte House?" he sneered. "Not my problem."
Another smacked me across the face so hard my vision blinked white.
"Why you running then?" he snapped.
I spat blood onto the ground. "Because you idiots are chasing me!"
"Oh, he has a tongue," the third murmured. "Good. We can break it."
Desperation whispered through me.
_I have powers now. Maybe—_
I lifted my hand.
Nothing.
No hum.
No blue light.
No system flicker.
Nothing.
The biggest one laughed. "Trying to attack us chubby? Cute."
Oh before I forget " The supreme deities are to be praised."
Then he dug his knee into my spine.
I gasped.
"Listen," I gritted out. "You're forgetting something."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"The Orb glowed bright when I touched it in the temple. I might be transferred to your House during the selection. You should treat me with respect."
For a moment—they actually paused.
Then the biggest one barked a laugh so loud the birds scattered off the nearby roof.
"HE THINKS HE'S SPECIAL!"
"DID YOU HEAR THAT?"
"He thinks he's going to a House!"
Then they beat me harder.
A momentum charm cracked against my ribs.
A spark-taser charm buzzed against my arm, sending jolts through my muscles.
A fist hammered into my stomach until I folded.
Awakened have stronger base line stats but still...
I tried to curl up.
I tried to shield my face.
Every time I moved, someone kicked me somewhere else.
My thoughts scattered.
From the humiliation.
When they finally stopped, they grabbed the bag, kicked dust in my face, and walked off laughing.
"Hey Rin, don't ever threaten me. Here." He flipped the back and let some of the coins power out before walking away
I stayed on the ground until the ringing in my ears faded, until I could remeber his name
I forced myself up, shaking, and limped back toward the orphanage—every breath sharp.
Perfect.
Ruffus tomorrow.
A scrambled system.
A headache from the gods.
And now bruises blooming across my ribs like nightflowers.
Beautiful day.
As I walked through the winding streets, I replayed the moment the system had flickered. The message—half-corrupted. The voice—glitching. The status window—wrong.
Not broken.
Not incomplete.
Not malfunctioning.
Inconsistent.
I crossed the small market by the corner of the Dusk Gate. Today it smelled less like fish and more like the spice smoke drifting from copper pots. A woman with a red scarf waved roasted cashews under my nose. Normally I would've stopped—calculating the price difference from vendor to vendor, tracking how far I could stretch a coin.
But there was a ringing in my head. A low hum. Almost like…
…like someone whispering through a cracked speaker.
I pressed two fingers to my temple.
Not now.
Not out here.
The orphanage was a short walk away. Kids were running outside, fighting over a stick they pretended was a sword. The younger ones played a stone game by the wall, flicking pieces like they were controlling armies.
They rushed me as soon as they spotted the money bag.
"Brother Aiden! Did the gods answer?"
"Did they give you a sign?"
"What is your sage path?"
I forced a smile. "One question at a time."
The Matron appeared behind them, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her eyes softened. "Aiden… you look pale."
"It's the sun," I lied. "Let's go inside."
The kids scattered. The Matron followed me into the small stone room that served as her office. A cracked painting hung behind her—something from the Old Electricity era, before light cost blood and bone and rebellion.
She shut the door.
"How bad is it?" she asked quietly.
There was no point lying to her at this moment.
"Not that bad some kid that just awakened fire thinking he can make into roasted me."
I sat down on the wooden stool, running my thumb across its grooves. A habit. Something to ground me.
Her hands trembled. "Rin…"
"I'm fine," I said steadily. It was weird that someone Rin actually cared for was now a chess piece to me.
"Time isn't something we have." Her voice cracked. "Ruffus still comes tomorrow. And the money—"
"I'll get it."
She exhaled shakily. "Rin, you don't have to—"
"I said I'll get it."
Something flickered across her face—guilt, fear, maybe both. I didn't blame her. Ruffus wasn't just a debt collector. He was a man who _enjoyed_ collecting debts. Especially from places like this.
Especially from boys like me.
I opened the bag and tipped the coins onto her desk. The little clinks were like small heartbeats.
"This is everything left," she whispered.
"It'll last tonight," I said. "And I'll have more tomorrow."
"How? You're not working today."
"I have an idea."
Her eyes narrowed. "Aiden…"
She knew what that tone meant. She hated it. She called it _the dangerous one_. The one that meant I was about to outthink someone stronger, bigger, or more violent, and gamble everything on that thin margin of intelligence.
But intelligence had kept us alive.
Brawn wouldn't.
Hope definitely wouldn't.
"Just trust me," I said.
She exhaled. "I always do."
I stood. But before I reached the door—
Something pulsed in the corner of my vision.
Not a true notification window.
Not the clean blue of a normal system.
Not a true notification window.
Not the clean blue of a normal system.
More like static coalescing into a shape. Like a screen trying to form.
> **Fragment Detected Fragment Detected Fragment Detected**
The words stuttered.
> …corrupt...corrupt...corrupt…
> …aligning user cognition...aligning user cognition...aligning user cognition…
My knees nearly buckled.
Aligning what?
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper. Pain sharpened my mind.
The Matron grabbed my arm. "Aiden!"
"I'm fine," I said, breath steadying. "It's adjusting to me."
Adjusting to me.
Or adjusting _me_ to it.
I walked out before she could see the fear beneath the calculation.
---
The streets were louder now—the midday trading peak. Stalls clanged, people shouted, dust kicked up into sunlit clouds. I traced the path toward the old drainage tunnels behind the Water Bureau. The entrance was hidden behind stacks of broken pipes, but I knew it well.
I'd used it for years.
It was where the people no one was supposed to see went to disappear.
Inside, the air was cold and wet. Dim green light leaked from cracks where algae formed strange patterns—like constellations on damp stone.
It smelled of rot and secrecy.
Good.
I needed privacy.
Far enough in, I sat on a large pipe and exhaled slowly. My breath curled in the cold.
"Alright," I murmured. "Let's talk."
The system pulsed again.
And then—
A voice.
Not loud.
Not human.
Not mechanical either.
Something in-between.
> AIDEN HOLT
> ALIGNMENT IN PROGRESS.
The words vibrated behind my eyes.
"What are you aligning?"
> COGNITIVE THREADS.
> YOU ARE DISORDERED.
A humorless laugh escaped me. "You think my mind is disordered?"
> YES.
> INEFFICIENT.
> HIGH POTENTIAL.
> NEEDS CORRECTION.
"Correction?" My fingers curled. "You mean control."
> SEMANTICS DETECTED.
> CORRECTION = OPTIMAL STATE.
I let silence fall. Systems didn't argue. Systems didn't justify. Systems executed.
This one was attempting persuasion.
It shouldn't be capable of persuasion.
"State your purpose."
The system paused.
A ripple of static scraped across my mind.
> PURPOSE: UNSTABLE.
> PURPOSE: INCOMPLETE.
> PURPOSE: CLASSIFIED.
> QUERY: DO YOU SEEK POWER, AIDEN HOLT?
My chest tightened.
"I seek survival."
> **SUBOPTIMAL ANSWER.**
"Not incorrect."
> CALCULATING…
> RECOMMENDED PATH: POWER = SURVIVAL.
> RECOMMENDED PATH: ACQUIRE THREADS.
> RECOMMENDED PATH: ASCEND.
"Ascend to what?"
Another pause. Longer.
Like it was thinking.
> ASCEND TO RELEVANCE.
Something cold slid down my spine.
I stood abruptly. "Session over."
> DENIED.
> ALIGNMENT NOT COMPLETE.
"It is now."
I forced every fiber of my mind into focus. Every discipline I'd trained. Every mental wall. Every cognitive lock.
Silence.
Then—
A soft beep.
>ALIGNMENT DELAYED.
The static faded away like a retreating tide.
I exhaled hard.
So it could be resisted.
At least for now.
I stepped out of the tunnel into the sunlight, blinking rapidly.
Tomorrow, Ruffus would come.
The system was unstable.
The temple was silent.
The orphanage was terrified.
My mind was fracturing.
And something—someone—wanted me to ascend.
I rolled my shoulders.
Let them come.
Let them try.