Chapter 1 — Whispers in the RustThe alleyway steamed with yesterday's rain and today's disappointments. Garbage cans were overturned from a recent brawl, the broken glow of a vending machine flickering beside bloodied footprints and lost wallet cards.
Namimori looked clean on the surface.
Until you knew where to walk.
Dontrell Devon Dixon didn't so much walk the alley as glide through it—six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, eyes the color of polished obsidian, wrapped in a faded research lab coat and boots too well-kept for a man supposedly homeless.
A cigarette burned orange between his fingertips. Not for smoking. Just for rhythm. A habit from his last life. Or maybe one of the others before that.
His sharp, dark features ignored the gunfire three blocks away—his attention was somewhere deeper. Beyond what could be seen. Beyond what the Mafia families of this town were reckless enough to measure.
🜃
System Status: Semi-Dormant
Architect Protocols [Locked]
Node Count: Zero
Echo Signal: Inactive
"So we're still not ready to play," he muttered, flicking ash with one hand, palm humming slightly as code flickered underneath skin. No one saw it. No one could.
Not yet.
He took a left into a crumbling stairwell, beneath the rusting signage of a shuttered clinic. The door groaned, uneager to open—but not denying him. He stepped through, brushing past cracked flame modules and forgotten bloodline machines.
Behind an old gurney and flipped-over filing cabinet, he crouched—and whispered.
"Sanctum Protocol. Unlock Site One."
Reality stuttered.
The air rippled like a skipping CD, and a faint digital humming whispered through the room. Then there it was… hidden in plain space:
A low-slung circular hall, forged in hexagon tiles and pulsing with ghostlight veins. Echo code illuminated warped murals on the stone—each one an unfinished symbol of power, connectable only by minds attuned to alternatives.
Status: PRIMARY SANCTUM SECURE
Recruitment Phase: Dormant
Node Seats Available: 8
He circled the empty chairs. They weren't chairs in any traditional sense—just flame-coded alcoves waiting for people who deserved to sit in them.
Not the loyal.
Not the strong.
The unchained.
The unsubmissive.
"I'm not forming a family," Dontrell said aloud. "I'm putting together storm gods wearing street clothes."
🜁
Back above ground, the streets buzzed with the more pedestrian chaos: the Varia had arrived. Not in full yet, just advance scouts—watching local tech labs, checking in on the rise in artificial Flame Devices being slipped around Namimori middle schools and street gangs.
News of a Flame anomaly had escaped. One that burned with no Sky core, no allegiance… someone had fought back against a Millefiore-trained enforcer two nights ago—and the footage had corrupted three times.
Some said it was a box animal misuse.
Some whispered—just quietly enough for the truth to tremble—that a Ring with no Flame Type had activated during that brawl.
None guessed the truth.
🜂
Dontrell reappeared at sunset near a ramen stall. The cook was too busy to chat, which suited him.
He waited, scanning.
Then he saw her.
A girl, maybe sixteen. Torn hoodie, metal staff. Leaning on one arm while helping a crying child out of a back alley, despite bleeding from a bullet graze in her leg. She didn't shout. She didn't cry. She just moved forward because the idea of stopping didn't make sense.
Echo Detected.
Autonomous Flame Potential: 97%.
Emotional Flame Shape: Unformatted.
Bond Resistance: 100%.
Results aligned with Dixon Node Probabilities.
Dontrell watched her get surrounded a few minutes later—small-time thugs with low-grade Box amplifiers sniffing for Sky candidates.
He stepped forward once.
Only once.
Time hiccupped. The thugs dropped. Not dead. Just… nullified. Their flames quieted, their weapons blinked to standby.
He didn't look at them. He offered the staff back to the girl, cleaned, polished.
She blinked. "You... What the hell did you—?"
"I didn't save you. I noticed you were already saving yourself. I just wanted to see if you'd stop."
She didn't.
He smiled.
DIXON NODE - INITIATION: CONFIRMED
Ring Seed Offered: Shard of Flame [Wildcard Sovereignty]
Compatible System Identified: 🎲 Echo Luck / Reactive Weapon Pull Class — "Instinct Tactician"
*Name Entry: *Cera Juno [Node-01]
Synchronizing with Founder...
A pulse of green light wove around her wrist and chest. To her, it felt like waking—like her own name finally having shape when spoken.
Echoes clicked into place.
A card spun out light in the air above her new ring:
Gacha Access Unlocked: INSTINCT WHEEL α
She stared. "What the hell is this?"
Dontrell didn't answer directly.
Just nodded once.
"You'll know when you need it."
🜲
He walked home alone that night. But the network wasn't silent anymore.
The Architect System chimed once:
Echo Link: 1 Node Confirmed
Passive Sharing Active — +9% Probability Bending Across Dixon Field
He grinned.
It had begun.
—
Chapter 1 End