**Chapter 32: The Order Revealed**
**Day 1,172.**
**Location: Tokyo, Ren's Apartment (The War Room).**
**Current Status: Level 15 Novice (Slowly grinding).**
**Threat Level: Internal Hemorrhage.**
There is a specific kind of horror in watching a virus bypass a firewall you wrote yourself. It isn't the fear of the unknown; it is the sickening realization of your own competence being turned against you.
I stood in the corner of Ren's apartment, pretending to inspect a pile of Aetherian scrap metal while Ren and Zero (communicating through Ren's Black Box) argued about the ghost in the machine.
"The signal has a latency of zero," Ren said, pacing the small room. His coat swirled around him, the fabric seemingly woven from shadows. "That's physically impossible. Even light takes 1.3 seconds to get from the Moon to Earth. If *Guest_01* is interacting with the System in real-time, he isn't transmitting a signal. He's entangled with it."
"Quantum entanglement requires a paired particle," Zero's synthetic voice replied from the speakers. "We have not issued a Black Box to any entity on the Moon."
"You didn't issue one," Ren corrected, stopping to look at the moon hanging visible through the window. "He built one. Or he stole one."
I kept my head down, turning a jagged piece of alien alloy over in my hands. Ren was getting too close to the truth. He was smart—scary smart. He had correctly deduced that the "Observer" I encountered on the Moon wasn't just a hallucination. It was a scout, not of biology, but of data.
The Myriad learned. They evolved. We had shown them that the System was our weapon, so now they were trying to log in.
"If they get Admin access," Ren whispered, "they can turn off the safeties. They can turn off the Mana."
"They can turn off the gravity," I added, unable to help myself.
Ren looked at me, his eyes narrowing. "You're awfully calm for a low-level baggage carrier, Null."
"I'm not calm," I lied, putting the scrap down. "I'm terrified. But panic is inefficient. If there's a spy in the System, we can't hunt him from here. We need a patch."
"We need the Architect," Ren said. He touched the Black Box on his chest. "He's gone silent since the Scout Ship raid. He's watching, but he's not speaking."
I felt a pang of guilt. I wasn't speaking because I was standing right in front of him, wearing a linen shirt and pretending to be a noob.
But Ren was right. The world was fracturing. The "Tech Boom" of the last week had turned the planet into a chaotic gold rush. Corporations were hoarding blueprints. Nations were threatening trade wars over Star Metal. The unity we had forged in the fire of the invasion was cooling into the brittle iron of politics.
And now, with a Myriad spy inside the walls, that division was a death sentence.
"The world needs a reminder," I thought.
"I have to go," I said aloud to Ren. "I have a... raid. Grind group. Need to hit Level 20 before the weekend."
Ren studied me for a long second. "Be careful, Null. The Safe Zones aren't as safe as they used to be."
"I know," I said. "Don't worry about me. I have high Luck."
I walked out of the apartment, down the stairs, and into the neon-lit streets of Shinjuku.
As soon as I turned the corner into a blind alley, I vanished.
***
**The Stratosphere**
**Altitude: 30,000 Feet**
I materialized in the thin air, hovering amidst the clouds. I stripped away the *Null* disguise, letting the raw power of my true self bleed through. My body glowed with the light of a contained star.
"Zero," I commanded. "Status on the United Nations General Assembly."
**[Session is active, Architect. Location: UN Headquarters, New York. Topic: The 'Sovereign Technology Act'. A proposal to nationalize all System-derived abilities and technology.]**
I scoffed. The wind whipped my hair, but I didn't feel the cold.
"They are trying to put a leash on a hurricane," I said. "Miller is leading the charge?"
**[Director Miller is currently speaking. He is arguing that the 'Order of Truth' is a rogue paramilitary organization that undermines global stability.]**
"He's not wrong," I admitted. "But stability is a luxury we can't afford. Stability is stagnation."
I looked at the timer in my HUD.
**[Myriad Main Fleet Arrival: T-Minus 38 Days.]**
"Guest_01 is in the System," I murmured. "The governments are infighting. The Guilds are distracted by profits. We are losing the narrative."
I needed to intervene. But I couldn't go as Shigu. Shigu was a human name. Shigu had a history.
And I couldn't go as the Architect. The Architect was a cosmic force, a giant face in the sky. He was too big, too terrifying. He made people kneel, not listen.
I needed a bridge. A diplomat.
"Zero, open the character creator," I said. "Create a new avatar construct. Designation: **The Herald**."
**[Parameters?]**
"Humanoid. Ambiguous. Radiate authority, but keep the threat level low. No weapons. Just... presence. And set the voice modulation to 'Absolute Truth'."
**[Constructing...]**
In front of me, particles of hard light and mana coalesced. A figure took shape. It was tall, draped in robes of shifting white and gold—the colors of the System. Its face was a smooth mask of polished silver, reflecting the world around it. It had no eyes, only the symbol of the Order etched into the metal.
"Perfect," I said.
I reached out and placed my hand on the avatar's chest. I poured a fraction of my consciousness into it—not enough to dilute my own power, but enough to pilot it remotely with zero latency.
"Go," I commanded the puppet. "Tell them the recess is over."
***
**New York City**
**United Nations General Assembly Hall**
The room smelled of floor wax and tension.
Director Miller stood at the podium. He looked tired but resolute. Behind him, a massive screen displayed the text of the *Sovereign Technology Act*.
"We cannot allow anarchy to dictate the future of our species," Miller thundered into the microphone. "Yes, the 'Players' saved us from the Scout. Yes, they destroyed the Cruiser. But at what cost? Los Angeles is a warlord's fiefdom. Tokyo is a vigilante state. Corporations are printing weapons of mass destruction in their basements!"
He gestured to the assembly. Representatives from nearly two hundred nations sat in silence, listening.
"The System is a tool," Miller continued. "And tools must be regulated. This Act will require all Awakened individuals to register with their respective governments. All Star Metal salvage is to be turned over to the UN Security Council. All Dungeon entrances are to be secured by military personnel."
A murmur went through the crowd.
"And if they refuse?" the French Ambassador asked.
"Then we shut them down," Miller said grimly. "We have the Arcane Battalion. We have the infrastructure. We control the electricity that powers their servers."
"You control nothing."
The voice didn't come from the speakers. It came from everywhere. It vibrated in the water glasses on the tables. It resonated in the fillings of the delegates' teeth.
Miller froze. "Who said that?"
The air in the center of the Assembly Hall began to distort. It wasn't a portal; it was a re-writing of the local light physics.
A column of gold light erupted from the floor, piercing the ceiling without breaking it.
When the light faded, a figure stood there.
Seven feet tall. Robed in the fabric of the cosmos. A face of polished silver.
Security guards rushed forward, weapons drawn. The *Centurion* guards of the Arcane Battalion raised their mana-rifles.
The figure didn't move. It didn't raise a shield.
"Stand down," The Herald said.
The rifles grew heavy. Unbearably heavy. The guards dropped them, clattering to the floor. It wasn't telekinesis; it was a localized increase in the gravitational constant applied only to the weapons.
Miller gripped the podium. "Who are you?"
The Herald turned its silver face toward Miller. The Director saw his own terrified reflection in the mask.
"I am the messenger," The Herald said. "I speak for the Architect."
A gasp swept the room. The Architect. The entity that had cracked the moon. The voice from the sky.
"You are trespassing," Miller said, his voice shaking but defiant. "This is a sanctuary of human governance."
"Governance implies control," The Herald replied calmly. "You have none. You are arguing over the seating arrangement on a sinking ship."
The Herald began to walk. It glided over the floor, passing through the tables as if they were smoke.
"You draft laws to hoard power," The Herald continued. "You seek to chain the storm. You do not understand the nature of the gift you were given."
It stopped in the center of the room, addressing everyone.
"The System is not a weapon to be regulated. It is an evolutionary catalyst. It is the only lifeboat you have."
"We are handling the threat!" Miller shouted. "We have the Battalion! We have the cannons!"
The Herald laughed. It was a sound like wind chimes in a graveyard.
"You have pop-guns," The Herald said. "You fought a Scout. You fought a Cruiser. These were the outriders. The fingers of the hand."
The Herald raised an arm. The massive screen behind Miller flickered. The text of the *Sovereign Technology Act* vanished.
In its place, a star chart appeared.
It showed the solar system. And at the edge, moving inward from the Oort cloud, was a cloud of red dots.
Millions of them.
"The Myriad Main Fleet," The Herald announced. "They do not come to test you. They come to erase you."
The screen zoomed in. The dots weren't just ships. They were World-Eaters. Leviathans the size of moons.
"And they are not alone," The Herald added. "While you bicker over patents, the Aetherian Empire is calculating the firing solution for a solar-system-class sterilization event. They view you not as a victim, but as an infestation."
Silence. Absolute, horrified silence.
"Why are you telling us this?" the Chinese Ambassador asked quietly. "If we are doomed, why give us hope?"
"Because the Architect is bored," The Herald said.
The answer threw them off.
"Bored?"
"He desires an interesting story," The Herald explained. "A tragedy is boring. An extinction is boring. A *struggle*... that is entertainment."
The Herald turned back to Miller.
"You want to ban the players? You want to confiscate the loot? Go ahead. But know this: Every minute you spend fighting your own people is a minute you give the Enemy to dig in."
The silver mask shifted. A symbol appeared on its forehead—the Weeping Eye.
"The Architect has authorized me to deliver a warning. One warning."
The air pressure in the room dropped.
**"The test is over. The real war begins."**
"And there is a traitor among you."
Miller blinked. "A traitor?"
"The enemy is learning," The Herald said. "They have infiltrated the System. They are watching this room through the eyes of your own technology. They are listening through the mana you hoard."
The Herald pointed to the Arcane Battalion guards. To the Silver Visors worn by the aides. To the Black Box sitting on Miller's desk.
"Trust nothing that connects to the network," The Herald whispered. "Except your own will."
The figure began to dissolve into light.
"Wait!" Miller shouted, stepping down from the podium. "Give us guidance! Give us a weapon!"
The Herald paused, half-faded.
"I gave you the code," The Herald said. "I gave you the fire. If you burn yourselves with it, that is your choice."
"Unite," The Herald commanded. "Or perish."
The light collapsed. The Herald was gone.
The screen behind Miller returned to static.
For a long moment, nobody moved. Then, the German Chancellor stood up.
"Tear it up," she said, pointing to the Act.
Miller looked at her. "Chancellor?"
"The Act," she said. "Tear it up. We are not arresting the Guilds. We are deputizing them. All of them."
***
**The Real World: Tokyo**
Ren sat in his chair, watching the livestream of the UN assembly on his phone.
He saw the Herald. He heard the voice.
"The messenger," Ren murmured.
He touched the Black Box on his chest.
"Zero," Ren asked. "Did you generate that avatar?"
**[I have no record of that construct in the local database,]** Zero replied. **[However, the energy signature matches the Architect's baseline. It was a direct projection.]**
Ren leaned back. "He's stepping out of the shadows. He's getting desperate."
Ren stood up. He walked to his window. The city of Tokyo was quiet, recovering from the Tech Boom chaos.
"A traitor," Ren repeated.
He thought about the scrap metal I had inspected earlier. He thought about the way the Aetherian ship had reacted to my touch—or rather, Null's touch.
He thought about Null. A Level 15 Novice who knew how to hack alien ships, who survived explosions that killed Level 60s, and who always seemed to be in the right place at the right time.
"Trust nothing that connects to the network," Ren quoted.
He looked at his friend list.
*Null (Online).*
"Who are you really?" Ren whispered.
***
**The Atacama Facility (Ruins)**
**Sub-Level 4**
I woke up in the *Null* body, gasping.
Projecting the Herald took a lot out of a biological vessel. Even with the *Divine Core* acting as a buffer, the sheer voltage of my consciousness charred the synapses. I had a nosebleed. My hands were shaking.
"That went well," I croaked, wiping the blood on my sleeve.
**[Director Miller has withdrawn the Sovereign Technology Act,]** Zero reported. **[The UN is forming a global coalition council. They have invited the Guild Leaders of the Crimson Blades and Sanctuary to the table.]**
"Good," I said, standing up and leaning against the cold wall. "The adults are finally sitting at the kid's table."
"However," Zero continued, **[The mention of the 'Traitor' has caused paranoia. Player-on-Player trust metrics have dropped. Everyone is looking for the Spy.]**
"They need to be paranoid," I said. "Guest_01 is still out there. If he's the Observer, he can mimic anyone. He could be a Guild Leader. He could be Miller's aide."
I walked to the equipment locker. I swapped my novice rags for a set of mid-tier leather armor I had "looted" (printed).
"I need to get back to Ren," I said. "He's the sharpest tool I have. If anyone can sniff out the Spy, it's him."
**[Ren is suspicious of you, Shigu.]**
I paused, my hand on the door handle.
"I know," I said. "That's why I like him."
I opened the door.
"But he won't find me. Because he's looking for a God. And I..."
I checked my stats.
**[Level: 15]**
**[Class: Novice]**
"...I'm just a glitch."
I stepped out into the desert night. The stars were bright. The Myriad fleet was getting closer. The Aetherian Empire was loading its guns. And a shape-shifting alien spy was hiding in my server.
I smiled. The boredom was a distant memory.
**[Day 1,172 Ends.]**
**[Daily Growth: +15%.]**
**[Humanity Status: Warned.]**
My power increases without limits. And now, finally, the stakes were high enough to match it.