[Forbidden Information: The host's race does not qualify for further revelation.]
His jaw clenched. Hard.
'What the 'fuck' does that mean?'
Viktor's fingers tapped against the wooden table, a steady rhythm that betrayed his growing frustration. The system had always been straightforward—crude, even, but never this... cryptic.
'What qualification and whatnis this Forbidden information?'
He tried to keep his breathing even, tried to maintain that casual smirk he'd worn while watching Elara bolt out of the manor. But inside, his mind was spinning like those gears he'd assembled last night.
'Hey, System,' Viktor thought, his internal voice sharp as broken glass. 'What do you mean by that? What race? What the hell am I becoming?'
The screen flickered.
Then... nothing.
Just a blank square bracket with dots.
[...]
Viktor's eye twitched.
'Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment right now?'
[...]
'System!'
[...]
