Kaelen woke not to a sound, but to the silent hum of a persistent error notification. There was no light in the dusty room, only the thick darkness and the smell of mildew and disillusionment. But in his vision, etched over reality, was the amber text that had become his constant companion.
[system.kernel] Continuous Alert: Entropy Level: 5.5%. Immediate purge of source-anomaly is recommended.
He was the source-anomaly. The message was a constant reminder, a low-grade headache that pulsed in sync with his heart. It was the echo of his interference, the scar he'd left on reality by rewriting a single line in the library's log. He closed his eyes, but the message was still there, seared onto the inside of his eyelids. Sleep was no longer an escape. The System was always watching.
On the other makeshift bed, Lyra slept. Her breathing was deep and even, the alchemist's antidote doing its work. Kaelen's Read showed her [Truth-Venom] status slowly diminishing, but the [Vigor Drain] debuff was still active, a subtle parasite on her code. She was his protection, his sword against the physical world. But she was also vulnerable, a dependent variable he needed to stabilize if they were both to survive.
And he… he was the key. But what good was a key if you didn't know which doors it could open, or more importantly, which ones should remain locked? His power was a book without an index. Edit (Restricted). The word "Restricted" was what haunted him. What were the rules? What were the true costs? Entropy was a clear but vague warning. He needed data. He needed to test.
Silently, Kaelen sat up. The room was a perfect laboratory: miserable, forgotten, and filled with broken objects. His first target was a wooden cup on a small table, a large crack running down its side.
Object: Wooden Cup Class: Common Structural Integrity: 45% (Cracked, Unusable) History: Crafted by unknown artisan (Cycle 3.87), sold at docks market, used in 147 tavern disputes, cracked upon falling from table (2 hours ago).
The history of every object, logged in the System. It was overwhelming. Kaelen focused on [Structural Integrity]. His first attempt was the most direct. He tried to edit the value "45%" to "100%."
[user.kaelen] Attempting to edit variable [Structural Integrity]. New value: 100%. [system.kernel] ERROR. Direct edit of structural integrity without data reconciliation is prohibited. Matter cannot be created from nothing. Please provide a debug solution.
"Debug solution." It wasn't magic; it was logic. He couldn't just rewrite the outcome; he had to fix the error in the code. The error was the crack. He looked at the cup, but this time, he deepened his Read, focusing on the crack itself. He saw the sundered wood fibers, the empty spaces at a molecular level. Its History stated it was cracked from a fall. The information was all there.
He tried a new approach. Not an order, but a function command.
[user.kaelen] Initiate command: [restore_object_state]. Reference point: [timestamp: 2 hours ago -1 second].
He was telling the system to revert the object to the state it was in one second before it broke.
The Codex glowed green. [system.kernel] Valid command. Processing state reversal...
Before his eyes, the wood fibers in the cup trembled. The crack glowed with a faint green light and, like a film played in reverse, sealed itself shut. In a second, the cup was whole, perfect. Kaelen picked it up. It was solid.
[system.kernel] Action complete. Entropy Generation: 0.1%. Total Entropy Level: 5.6%.
A minimal cost. His head throbbed only slightly. The euphoria he felt far outweighed the pain. He had discovered a fundamental rule. He couldn't create, but he could restore. He wasn't a god; he was a divine software engineer. A debugger.
His gaze moved to Lyra's dagger, which she'd left on the table beside her bed. It was a quality weapon, but its blade held a sickly sheen.
Object: Paladin's Dagger Class: Rare Attributes: [Sharp Edge], [Perfect Balance], [Holy Affinity (Dormant)] Debuff: [Truth-Venom (Residual)] - On cut, inflicts minor % of faith damage to target and wielder.
The venom wasn't just hurting her; it was corrupting her weapon, causing her own tool to harm her. It was a poetic cruelty. He focused on the debuff. It was a line of code that didn't belong.
[user.kaelen] Initiate command: [delete_variable]. Target: [Debuff: Truth-Venom (Residual)].
This was a different action. Not restoring. Deleting.
[system.kernel] WARNING: Target variable is linked to a recent combat event. Deletion will create an inconsistency in the combat log of [entity.lyra]. Do you wish to proceed? [user.kaelen] Confirm. [system.kernel] Command accepted. Deleting variable...
The dagger's blade flashed with an amber light, the color of a warning. Kaelen felt a much stronger wave of nausea this time. The hum of Entropy in his mind grew louder.
[system.kernel] Action complete. Entropy Generation: 0.4%. Total Entropy Level: 6.0%. [system.kernel] WARNING: Entropy Level has reached a critical threshold. Your passive signature is now detectable by patrolling Guardians at short range. Skill restraint is advised.
The sickly sheen on the blade vanished. The dagger looked clean. A victory. But the warning was chilling. He couldn't use this power lightly. Every edit, every repair, was like striking a match in the dark, making him more visible to the monsters that hunted him.
Kaelen leaned back, his head throbbing. His heart was racing, a mix of fear and exhilaration. The power he held was greater than he'd imagined, but its limitations were equally vast. Entropy. It was the price. A tax on reality. Every time he forced it to deviate from its course, the corruption grew. It was a beacon, a flare that screamed his location to the things that wanted to erase him.
His archivist's mind tried to catalog what he'd learned. Rule #1: Cannot create matter, only manipulate existing data. Restoring is "cheaper" than deleting. Rule #2: Every action has an Entropy cost. Bigger, more complex edits have a higher cost. Rule #3: Accumulated Entropy makes you detectable.
He was a man bleeding in an ocean full of sharks. Every drop attracted more danger.
His gaze returned to Lyra. She stirred in her sleep, her face in repose looking younger, less haunted. He saw her code hovering above her. Faith: 9 (CORRUPTED). The original anomaly. The biggest question. Could that be edited? Could he initiate a [restore_variable] command on a person's soul? And even if he could, did he have the right? To change someone's faith… wouldn't that be a deeper violation than any lock he could pick? Would it be an act of healing, or an act of divine tyranny? The very idea terrified him. He was not a god or a demon. He was just an archivist. And some sections, perhaps, were meant to remain forbidden.
"What are you doing?"
Lyra's voice was hoarse but clear. She was awake, sitting up in bed, watching him with those sharp, gray eyes. There was no telling how long she'd been observing him.
"I was… experimenting," Kaelen said, his throat suddenly dry. "Trying to understand the rules."
"Rules to what?" She glanced at the whole cup in his hand, then at her dagger, which he still held. "Did you do this?"
"Yes."
She held out her hand. He hesitated for a moment, then passed her the dagger. She examined the blade, her thumb running cautiously over the metal. A look of genuine surprise crossed her face.
"The venom… it's gone. Not just the effect. The corruption on the blade itself." She looked up at him, and for the first time, he saw something beyond suspicion in her gaze. It was awe. "Your 'error reading' is more than just seeing things."
"Every repair has a cost," Kaelen said, rubbing his temples. "It makes us easier to find."
"Then we need to move, and learn to be quieter," she concluded, her practical mind cutting straight to the heart of the matter. She stood, moving with far more fluidity than the night before. "This place isn't safe for long. We need money, information, and a place where your 'Guardians' and my 'Inquisitors' can't find us. And I know where we might find all three."
"Where?"
"They call it 'The Hatchery'," she said. "It's a black market, but more than that. It's an information hub run by a man called 'The Broker.' He's said to know everything that happens in this city. It's neutral ground. Violence is forbidden; disputes are settled with information or coin. It's the only place we can trade without constantly looking over our shoulder."
Lyra's description painted a vivid picture. A market where information was the primary currency. In a world governed by a system of hidden data, such a place would be the most important nexus of power in the city. Far more than the duke's palace or the Order's temple. The Broker, whoever he was, would undoubtedly be a high-level entity. It was a dangerous place, but for someone who could read secrets no one else could, it was also a place of infinite opportunity.
"Alright," Kaelen said, his decision made. "We'll go to The Hatchery."
The moment the words left his mouth, a new notification exploded in his vision. It was unlike any other. It wasn't the calm green of the system, the amber of a warning, or the red of an alert. It was a crisp, cool, cyan-blue text in an interface window he'd never seen before. And the sender wasn't [system.kernel].
[private_message] from [User: ???]: "I know what you are, Archivist. Stop using 'Edit.' The Entropy you generate is blood in the water, and the Guardians aren't the only sharks. They aren't even your biggest problem. Meet me at The Hatchery. Look for the man reading a book with no words. Come alone."