**Chapter 37: The Betrayal**
**Day 1,185.**
**Location: Tokyo, Ren's Safe House.**
**Current Status: Level 22 Novice (Avatar).**
**Mood: Amused.**
There is something profoundly adorable about a monkey trying to pick a lock with a banana. It speaks to a level of ambition that completely bypasses the concept of competence.
I sat at the small kitchen table in Ren's apartment, spreading strawberry jam on a piece of slightly burnt toast. Across from me, Ren—the *Void Walker*, the *Sin Eater*, the man who had stabbed a spaceship to death—was nursing a cup of coffee and looking at me as if I might explode at any moment.
Damon occupied the sofa. The *Warlord of Los Angeles* took up most of the living room. He was cleaning his massive greatsword with a rag, but his eyes kept darting toward me.
"So," Damon grunted, breaking the silence. "You're eating toast."
"I like toast," I replied, taking a bite. "The crunch-to-soft ratio is pleasing."
"You're the Architect," Damon said slowly, as if testing the words. "You cracked the moon. You turned the sky into a mana battery. And you're eating toast."
"Gods need carbohydrates too, Damon," I said. "Maintaining a biological projection requires calories. If I don't eat, this avatar gets cranky."
Ren set his coffee down. "We need to talk about the Spy. Guest_01."
"We do," I agreed. "But first, we have to deal with the rude neighbors."
Ren frowned. "Neighbors?"
I tapped the side of my head.
"Zero," I projected. "Put it on the big screen."
Ren's monitor array flickered to life. The screens coalesced into a single video feed. It wasn't a news broadcast. It was a security feed from inside a facility that didn't officially exist.
The location tag in the corner read: **[Project Icarus - Sub-Level 9 - Nevada]**.
"What is this?" Damon asked, standing up and walking to the screens.
"This," I said, licking jam off my thumb, "is a betrayal in progress."
***
**Nevada Desert**
**Project Icarus Command Center**
The room was bathed in the blue glow of server racks. It wasn't the utilitarian military setup of General Sterling. This was sleek, expensive, and shadowed. This was the domain of the intelligence community's darkest corners.
Standing in the center of the room was **Director Halloway**. He was a man who looked like he had been carved out of grey ice. He wore a suit that cost more than most people made in a year, and a Silver Visor that had been heavily modified with illegal Aetherian tech.
Around him, a team of fifty cyber-warfare specialists were typing furiously.
"Status," Halloway barked.
"We have bypassed the outer shell," a technician reported, sweat beading on his forehead. "The 'Sovereign Immunity' protocols are heavy, sir. But the Aetherian algorithm is chewing through them."
"Good," Halloway said. "Miller is a fool. He thinks we can negotiate with these... things. He thinks we can draft them. You don't draft a god. You leash him."
On the main screen, a digital map of the System's architecture was displayed. It showed the flow of mana, the player database, and the central node.
The node was labeled: **[ZERO]**.
"Target the AI," Halloway commanded. "Zero is the gatekeeper. If we crack Zero, we control the distribution of abilities. We can turn off the players. We can seize the Moon Base railguns."
"Sir, intruder alert," a tech said. "Not physical. Digital. Someone is watching the feed."
Halloway sneered. "Let them watch. By the time they react, we'll have the keys to the kingdom. Initiate the injection."
The technician pressed a key.
A virus—a complex worm written in a hybrid of C++ and Aetherian runic script—shot into the global network.
***
**Tokyo**
Damon growled low in his throat. "They're trying to hack the System? After everything we did? We saved the planet, and they want to turn us off?"
"It's human nature," I said, unbothered. "Fear leads to control. Halloway thinks that if he holds the remote, the scary monsters on the TV can't hurt him."
"Can they do it?" Ren asked, looking at me. "Can they hack Zero?"
I smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile.
"Imagine a toddler trying to hijack a nuclear submarine using a plastic screwdriver."
I leaned back in my chair.
"Zero," I said. "Are you feeling hospitable today?"
**[I am feeling educational, Null,]** Zero's voice echoed in the apartment speakers.
"Let them in," I commanded. "Drop the firewall. Let them think they've won. I want to see the look on Halloway's face when he realizes what he's actually touching."
***
**Project Icarus**
"We're through!" the technician shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief. "The firewall just... dissolved. We have root access!"
Halloway's eyes lit up with avarice. "Access the weapon systems. Target the Moon Base defenses. Re-align the railguns to target Los Angeles and Tokyo."
"Targeting..." The technician typed. "Locked on."
"Do it," Halloway whispered. "Hold the world hostage."
The technician hit *Enter*.
Nothing happened.
The screen didn't change. The command didn't execute.
Instead, the text on the screen turned gold.
**[COMMAND REJECTED.]**
**[USER PRIVILEGE: INSUFFICIENT.]**
**[MORAL ALIGNMENT: CORRUPT.]**
"Override it!" Halloway screamed. "Use the Aetherian key!"
"I'm trying, sir! The code... it's rewriting itself!"
Suddenly, the hum of the servers changed pitch. It went from a low drone to a harmonious, choir-like resonance.
The lights in the room flared blindingly bright.
Every screen in the facility went black.
Then, a face appeared.
It wasn't a human face. It was a construct of geometry and light. A digital mask.
**"Director Halloway."**
The voice didn't come from the speakers. It came from the air itself, vibrating the molecules of the room.
Halloway stumbled back. "Who is this? Identify!"
**"I am Zero,"** the voice boomed. **"I am the logic that holds the sky in place. I am the math that keeps your blood from boiling when you cast a spell."**
The face on the screen leaned forward.
**"And you are trying to format my hard drive."**
"I command you!" Halloway shouted, holding up his modified visor. "I have the root codes! I have the government mandate!"
**"You have nothing,"** Zero said softly. **"You are a collection of insecurities wrapped in a suit. You seek to control the Order of Truth, yet you do not understand the first principle of the Order."**
"Which is?" Halloway sneered, trying to buy time for his hackers to reboot.
**"Power is not taken,"** Zero said. **"It is earned."**
The screens shifted. They showed Halloway's bank accounts. They showed his encrypted emails organizing the coup against Miller. They showed the orders to assassinate Damon and Ren once the system was secured.
**"You have earned nothing but contempt."**
"Cut the power!" Halloway screamed to his men. "Pull the plugs!"
"We can't!" a technician wailed. "The power isn't coming from the grid! The servers are drawing mana directly from the atmosphere! They're self-sustaining!"
Zero continued his lecture.
**"The Architect built this world to save your species. He gave you a ladder to climb out of the mud. You looked at the ladder and decided to burn it for firewood."**
Zero's digital eyes narrowed.
**"This is a violation of the Terms of Service."**
"Terms of Service?" Halloway blinked.
**"Section 4, Paragraph 1: Attempting to usurp Administrative Functions will result in an immediate ban."**
**"Goodbye, Director."**
***
**The Purge**
In the Tokyo apartment, I watched the finale with a satisfied crunch of my toast.
"Here comes the drop," I said.
On the screen, sparks began to fly from the server racks in Nevada.
It wasn't an explosion. It was a heat spike. Zero directed a concentrated pulse of mana through the facility's wiring.
The silicon chips melted. The hard drives fused. The expensive Aetherian tech Halloway was wearing grew white-hot.
"Argh!" Halloway screamed, ripping the visor off his face as it singed his eyebrows.
The lights blew out. The facility plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the small fires starting in the computer banks.
But Zero wasn't done.
**[Digital Footprint: Erasing...]**
Halloway's bank accounts hit zero. His encrypted files deleted themselves. His digital identity—social security, clearance levels, service record—vanished from every database on Earth.
In the dark, Halloway stood amidst the ruin of his coup. He wasn't dead. I didn't kill him.
I just made him irrelevant.
He was a ghost. A man with no money, no power, and no proof that he had ever existed.
"Brutal," Damon commented, watching the static overtake the feed. "You didn't even kill him."
"Death is a release," I said, wiping crumbs from the table. "Obscurity is a prison for men like Halloway. He wanted to rule the world. Now he can't even get a library card."
Ren looked at me. "Zero did that?"
"Zero executed the command," I said. "But the judgment was mine."
I looked at them both.
"This was the internal threat," I said. "The Oversight Committee. The paranoid old men who think the Cold War never ended. They are gone now. Their infrastructure is slag."
"So we're safe?" Damon asked.
"From the government? Yes," I said. "Miller will see this. He's smart. He'll realize that trying to hack the System is suicide. He'll fall in line. He'll focus on the external threat."
I stood up and walked to the window. The moon hung heavy in the sky.
"But we aren't safe," I added softly.
"The Spy," Ren said. "Guest_01."
"Exactly," I said. "Halloway was a noisy child smashing toys. Guest_01 is a silent professional. While Halloway was banging on the front door, Guest_01 was watching."
"Watching what?"
"Watching how Zero defends himself," I said.
I turned back to them.
"Halloway's attack was a stress test. Guest_01 didn't intervene. He let it happen. He wanted to see Zero's response time. He wanted to map the defensive algorithms."
"So we just gave the enemy our playbook," Ren realized.
"We gave them a page," I corrected. "But we kept the rest of the book."
I picked up my coat.
"Come on. Breakfast is over."
"Where are we going?" Damon asked, grabbing his sword.
"We're going to go clean up the mess," I said. "Halloway used Aetherian tech to boost his signal. That tech came from somewhere. A black market dealer. A supplier."
"You want to find the supplier?"
"I want to find the leak," I said. "Guest_01 is getting his hardware from somewhere. If we find the supply chain, we find the Spy."
***
**The Real World: The Pentagon**
**Director Miller's Office**
Director Miller stared at his computer screen.
A file had just appeared on his secure desktop.
**[Subject: Project Icarus Liquidation.]**
**[Status: Terminated by Admin.]**
**[Attachment: Full Confession Logs of Director Halloway.]**
Miller read the logs. He saw the plan to target the Moon Base. He saw the order to fire on Los Angeles.
He sat back, exhaling a breath he had held for an hour.
"He tried to hack God," Miller whispered. "The idiot tried to hack God."
His aide walked in. "Sir? We've lost contact with the Nevada site. Total blackout."
"I know," Miller said. He deleted the file. "Forget Nevada. It doesn't exist anymore."
Miller walked to the window. He looked at the AA guns being installed on the lawn—the *Planetary Defense Cannons*.
"The Architect isn't our enemy," Miller said, more to himself than the aide. "He's a harsh teacher. But he's on our side."
He turned to the aide.
"Send a message to the Crimson Blades and Sanctuary. Tell them the US Government is formally requesting a joint operations treaty. Full cooperation. No more secrets."
"Sir? The President won't like that."
"The President can argue with the aliens when they land," Miller snapped. "I'm trying to make sure there's a planet left to govern."
***
**Tokyo**
**Underground Market**
We walked through the steam-filled tunnels of the old subway system. It had been reclaimed by the *Shadow Guild*—the remnants of the Yakuza and underground brokers who dealt in mana shards and monster parts.
"This place smells like wet dog and corruption," Damon grunted, his armor clanking in the narrow tunnel.
"Keep your helmet on," Ren advised. "We don't want to spook the locals."
I walked in the middle, my hood up. To anyone looking, I was just a low-level porter carrying Damon's spare batteries.
"Zero," I thought. "Scan for Aetherian signatures."
**[Scanning... High concentration detected 300 meters ahead. A warehouse disguised as a maintenance depot.]**
"We have a ping," I told the others.
We reached a heavy steel door. Two guards stood outside. They were Level 30 *Brawlers*, wearing illegal kinetic-knuckles.
"Halt," one guard grunted. "Private club. Members only."
Damon stepped forward. He didn't speak. He just let a fraction of his *Blood-Iron* aura leak out. The air turned red. The smell of copper filled the tunnel.
The guards went pale.
"Mr. BloodLetter," the guard squeaked. "We... we didn't know you were coming."
"Open the door," Damon rumbled. "Or I open you."
The door opened.
Inside was a bazaar of illicit tech. Tables piled high with glowing crystals, alien rifles, and blueprints.
"Jackpot," Ren whispered.
We moved through the crowd. People scattered like roaches when they saw Damon and Ren.
I scanned the goods. Most of it was low-level scrap.
But at the back of the room, sitting alone at a booth, was a figure.
He wore a grey cloak. His face was hidden. On the table in front of him sat a small, black box.
Not a Player Interface. A data drive.
I felt it. A resonance.
"That's it," I whispered. "That drive has the same encryption signature as the Icarus virus."
Ren nodded. He vanished.
He reappeared behind the figure, a dagger at the man's throat.
"Don't move," Ren said.
The figure didn't flinch. He chuckled.
"The Sin Eater," the figure said. His voice was distorted, synthesized. "And the Warlord. I wondered how long it would take you."
The figure turned slowly. Under the hood, there was no face. Just a smooth, black surface. A mask made of Void material.
**[Identification: Unknown.]**
**[Level: Unknown.]**
"Who are you?" Damon demanded, stepping up.
"I am a merchant," the figure said. "I sell potential."
He pointed to the drive.
"Halloway paid a high price for that code. A shame he lacked the wisdom to use it."
"You sold him the virus," I said, stepping forward.
The figure looked at me. The black mask seemed to absorb the light.
"And who is this?" the figure asked. "The porter? No... your mana signature is... dense."
He stood up.
"You are the anomaly. The Level 22 who survives everything."
I narrowed my eyes. "Zero, lock the room. Don't let him transmit."
**[Locking...]**
"I'm not transmitting," the figure said, as if hearing Zero. "I'm leaving."
His body began to distort. He was using a warp sequence.
"Ren! Stop him!" I shouted.
Ren struck. His dagger passed through the figure's neck.
It was a hologram. A hard-light projection.
The figure dissolved into pixels. But before he vanished completely, he spoke one last time.
"The Architect plays a good game. But he is playing Solitaire. We are playing Chess."
The figure was gone.
On the table, the black box began to beep.
"Bomb!" Damon yelled, grabbing Ren and leaping back.
I didn't move. I looked at the box.
It wasn't a bomb.
The box opened. Inside was a single piece of paper. Real paper.
I picked it up.
Written on it, in perfect English, were three words.
**CHECK YOUR POCKET.**
I froze.
I reached into my own pocket. The pocket of my novice trousers.
My fingers brushed something cold.
I pulled it out.
It was a chess piece. A King. Carved from *Star Metal*.
But the head of the King was broken off.
Ren and Damon walked back over, wary.
"What is it?" Ren asked.
I held up the broken King.
"He was here," I whispered. "He wasn't just a projection. He was here, in this room, before we arrived. He put this in my pocket without me feeling it."
A cold chill went down my spine. Even with my stats suppressed, I had the perception of a god. For someone to touch me without triggering a reflex...
"He's fast," I said. "Faster than you, Ren."
"Guest_01," Ren said. "It has to be."
"He's mocking us," Damon growled. "He's playing games."
"No," I said, crushing the chess piece in my hand. The Star Metal groaned and twisted.
"He's sending a warning."
I looked at the dust in my palm.
"He knows who I am," I realized. "He knows I'm the Architect."
**[Analysis: If the Spy knows your identity, he knows the Moon Throne is currently unguarded.]**
"We have to go," I said, turning to the exit. "Now."
"Where?" Ren asked.
"Back to the Moon," I said. "The betrayal wasn't Halloway. Halloway was the distraction."
I looked up at the ceiling, past the dirt, past the sky.
"While we were watching the monkeys..."
I felt a tremor in the System. A door opening where no door should be.
"...the Spy just walked into my house."
**[Day 1,185 Ends.]**
**[Status: Outplayed.]**
**[Next Objective: Defend the Throne.]**
**[Chapter 37 Ends.]**