VIRTUEFALL: ARC I – WHEN SAINTS GLITCH
CHAPTER ONE: Overflow
Tendo hated how full her hands always were.
Bottles of water in one, energy bars in the other. A clipboard dangling from her elbow. A baby clinging to her leg. She moved through the refugee camp like a ghost in a uniform, smiling even when her lips cracked from the heat.
"Thank you, angel," an old woman said, pressing her knuckles into Tendo's palm.
Tendo smiled wider. "No need. I'm just helping."
That's what they said at school:
'Service learning. A required part of civic growth.'
But they hadn't seen the hunger here — not just for food. For touch. For hope. For something that didn't rot by morning.
That night, behind a tent, with a boy who looked like he hadn't been held in years, she gave her body like she gave everything else — without pause. Without fear. Without demand.
He kissed her like a question he couldn't phrase.
And she answered it.
All of it.
When he left, she sat still, arms hugging her knees, her dress askew. Her heartbeat louder than the crickets.
"I just... wanted to help."
She whispered it like a confession, but it didn't feel holy.
Something inside her rushed — then crashed.
And in the quiet that followed, something ancient stirred beneath her ribs. Not shame. Not guilt.
But hunger.
Kindness cracked.
And Lust blinked open, stretching like a cat from slumber.
CHAPTER TWO: It Was Worth It
The email subject line was short.
"Offer Letter – Full Stack Engineer"
Micah read it five times, then just stared at the screen like it might disappear. The job he'd chased for two years — rejected, ghosted, humiliated — was now his.
He closed the laptop, eyes damp.
He whispered, as if afraid to jinx it:
"My patience paid off."
He meant it. He had been patient.
Took temp jobs. Slept in his car some nights. Even kept his temper when the recruiter called him "overqualified and too urban."
But now… now he imagined more.
A corner office. A parking spot with his name. Tech expos. Press conferences. People waiting to hear what he had to say.
He blinked, and the vision vanished.
"Just tired," he told himself.
But something… shifted.
Deep beneath the calm surface of his mind, a grin spread. Not his. Something older. Hungrier. Watching.
Patience exhaled.
And in its place, Gluttony licked his lips.
Micah didn't feel it. Not yet.
But soon, he'd want more.
He'd believe he deserved it.
And he'd take it — whether the world was ready or not.
CHAPTER THREE: The Wrong Answer
Kai was halfway through his second nap of the day when the kettle screamed.
He winced, rolled over, and shoved a pillow over his head.
Downstairs, his mother's footsteps pounded like war drums.
She didn't knock. She never knocked.
"Kai!"
He groaned. "What now?"
She stood in the doorway, eyes like flint.
"The hallway hasn't been swept. You didn't open the gate for the delivery man. You left the tap dripping. Again."
He rubbed his eyes. "I was going to."
She raised one brow.
"Then tell me, son — what have you not done today?"
He yawned. "I don't know. Watched a movie? Cleaned your soul?"
Her slap didn't land — but the silence did.
She stared at him. Disappointed. Exhausted. Like she'd been assigned him, not birthed him.
"Wrong," she said coldly. "The answer is: a good job."
She turned to leave.
But in that instant, something entered her.
She froze.
A breath hitched.
Her eyes fluttered — once, then again.
Then: stillness.
Deeper. Older. Not hers.
Orrion, the last remaining ArchVirtue, had found her.
Not Kai. No — the boy was too lazy, too distracted. But the mother? Disciplined. Cold. Observant.
Perfect vessel. A sleeper host.
From now on, she would watch him. Feed reports through dreams and shadows. Observe the glitch blooming beneath her roof.
Because Kai, despite everything — or because of everything — was special.
Diligence had abandoned him long ago.
And Sloth, ancient and all-seeing, had made him its throne.
Kai scratched his stomach, lay back down, and muttered:
"Not like the world needs me anyway."
Somewhere behind his mother's eyes, Orrion smiled.