The silence was unbearable.
For the first time in days, Kael found himself alone—truly alone. No missions, no voices, no flashing prompts from the Protocol. Just the quiet rustling of wind sweeping through the broken walls of the old cathedral where he had taken shelter. The echoes of combat still rang faintly in his ears, like phantoms unwilling to leave.
He leaned against a shattered column, one hand pressed over a wound on his side that refused to close. The pain was manageable—he'd endured worse—but it wasn't the wound that was eating at him.
It was the silence.
Where was the Protocol?
Ever since it had first activated within him, the Ascension Protocol had been a constant—guiding him, pushing him, sometimes overwhelming him. But now… nothing. It was as if the system had gone dormant. Not deactivated, not removed. Just… sleeping.
And that terrified him more than any enemy ever could.
"Are you abandoning me now?" Kael whispered into the empty space. "After everything?"
His voice bounced off the stone walls, mocking him.
There was no reply.
He felt foolish for talking to a system, but the Protocol had been more than just code—it had been a presence. A cold, calculating, but strangely comforting force that told him there was always another level to reach, always another challenge to overcome.
Now, in its absence, he felt something he hadn't felt in months.
Doubt.
He clenched his jaw and sat down on the steps of the broken altar, pulling out the crumpled photograph he kept tucked in the inner lining of his coat. The image was old, edges frayed, colors faded, but he could still make out their faces—his sister Lira, smiling brightly with that stubborn glint in her eyes. The same eyes he saw every time he looked in a mirror.
"I promised I'd bring you back," he murmured. "I swore it."
He hadn't seen her in years. The Protocol had hinted that she was still alive, somewhere within the Null Territories—enslaved, perhaps, or hidden in the shadow of the corporate warlords. It was that hope that had kept him going through blood and fire.
But now, with the system quiet, with his body slowing and his strength waning, that hope felt like a dying flame in the wind.
Still, Kael wasn't the kind to fold. If the Protocol was silent, he'd move without it. If the power was gone, he'd fight with his bare hands.
He stood.
He staggered.
Then he stood again, straighter this time.
He wasn't done yet.
Just then, a soft sound echoed behind him—boots crunching lightly on stone. Kael spun around instantly, instincts flaring to life. His hand reached for the blade on his back, but he didn't draw it.
A figure emerged from the shadows of the ruined nave. Clad in dark gray armor, face obscured by a half-mask and visor. But Kael knew that silhouette.
"Sera," he said quietly.
She stopped a few paces away, watching him carefully. Her hand didn't reach for her weapon—but it hovered close.
"You look like hell," she said.
Kael allowed a faint smirk. "That's an improvement."
Her lips twitched at that, but she didn't smile. She looked tired—more tired than he'd ever seen her. Her armor was scratched, one shoulderpiece missing entirely, and dried blood stained her gloves.
"You're off the grid," she said after a moment. "The Protocol's readings went dead."
"So it's not just me."
"No. Whatever's happening to you—it's happening to the system too."
Kael frowned. "Do we know why?"
"No." Sera stepped forward, slowly, cautiously, like approaching a wounded beast. "But you need to know this: the system is evolving. And it's not just you anymore."
That got his attention. He straightened. "What do you mean?"
"There are others, Kael. People like you—linked to the Protocol. The Network is expanding."
He blinked. "But it's supposed to be singular. I was the only host."
"Not anymore," she said grimly. "And worse—some of them are corrupted. Twisted by exposure to the Null. Their Protocols are… different."
Kael felt a chill crawl down his spine. The Protocol had always been a neutral force—brutal, yes, but orderly. If it could be corrupted...
"We need to find the Nexus Core," Sera continued. "That's where the source code originated. If we can reach it—maybe we can reboot the system, stabilize the fragments."
"Where?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"It's in Black Spire."
Kael swore under his breath. "That's suicide."
"I know."
The Black Spire was more myth than reality—a vertical fortress built on the bones of a dying city, ruled by the Revenant Syndicate, guarded by augmented soldiers and sentient defense grids. No one went there and came back.
Still…
"If the Protocol is dying," Kael said, "then I don't have a choice."
She nodded. "We'll go together. But you need to recover first."
"I don't have time to—"
"You do," Sera snapped. Her voice cracked slightly. "You're no good to anyone dead. And if we lose you, we lose the best shot we have at ending this."
Kael opened his mouth to argue, but stopped.
She was right. As much as it grated him to admit it, she was right.
He exhaled, slow and shaky. "Fine. One day. Then we move."
Sera gave a tight nod, then glanced around. "You picked a hell of a place to bleed in."
"Quiet's nice sometimes."
She didn't respond, but sat down beside him. They stayed like that for a while—no words, no strategy—just two soldiers resting under a broken roof, listening to the wind howl through the bones of a forgotten place.
Kael didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But for now, in the silence, he found something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Peace.
And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.