The cyan-blue text hovered in Kaelen's vision, cold and imperious, superimposed over the decrepit reality of the room. This wasn't a system notification; it was a breach. It felt as if someone had pried open his skull and whispered a secret directly into his soul. Every word was an impossibility. I know what you are, Archivist. Stop using 'Edit.' The Guardians aren't the only sharks. The message wasn't a threat; it was a declaration of superior knowledge, an assertion that he, Kaelen, the one man who could read the world's code, was not alone. And that thought was infinitely more terrifying than being hunted by Guardians.
"What is it?"
Lyra's voice cut through his trance. She was on her feet, fully alert, her hand hovering over the hilt of her now-clean dagger. Her stance was that of a predator that had sensed a subtle shift in the environment. She couldn't see the text, but she saw his reaction to it. His face had gone pale, his eyes fixed on something that wasn't there.
"Nothing," Kaelen lied, an instant reflex. Come alone. The message demanded secrecy. That meant Lyra was a liability. Or worse, an obstacle. Distrust, a seed planted by the message, began to sprout.
"Don't lie to me, error reader," she retorted, her voice low and dangerous. "I saw your face. You looked like you'd just read your own obituary. What happened? Was it your 'Guardians'?"
Kaelen opened his mouth to deny it again but stopped. Lying to her was foolish. She was a Paladin, however broken; her intuition for deceit was likely a passive skill. More importantly, he needed her to even reach The Hatchery. Going alone was the command, but arriving alive was the prerequisite.
"I received a message," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
Lyra frowned. "A message? How? We don't have a runner. No one knows we're here."
"It wasn't… normal." Kaelen struggled for the words. "It just appeared. Like the rest of it. In my vision."
Her expression shifted from suspicion to cautious concern. "Your power… it talks to you?"
"Not my power. Someone else," Kaelen clarified. "Someone who knows about me. About 'Edit.' About the Entropy. Someone who warned me that the Guardians aren't my biggest threat."
The weight of those words hung in the musty air. Lyra processed the information, her tactical mind parsing the implications. She crossed the room to stand before him, her intense gaze demanding the complete truth. "What did the message say?"
Kaelen hesitated. Meet me… Alone. The word echoed in his mind. But as he looked at Lyra, at her fierce competence, at the fact that she was the only other anomaly he knew, he made a choice. Going alone was the final objective, but sharing the intelligence now was the correct survival strategy.
"It said to meet them at The Hatchery," he confessed. "It said to look for 'the man reading a book with no words.' And it said to come alone."
Lyra didn't react with anger or jealousy, as he'd feared. Her response was purely pragmatic. "It's a trap."
"I know," Kaelen admitted. "But it's also the first clue we have about what in the hell is going on. This person, or entity, knows things I don't. They used the word 'Archivist.' No one called me that but Master Elara… or whatever she was."
"It's a trap," Lyra repeated, more firmly. "They want to separate you from me. You're the key, but without a sword to protect the hand that holds it, a key is useless. You'd die before you reached The Hatchery's door."
She was right. His Read of the Low Districts' inhabitants was a constant stream of [Malicious Intent], [Probability of Robbery], and [Physical Threat]. Alone, he was prey.
"I know," Kaelen said, frustration bleeding into his voice. "So what do we do?"
"We do what we planned," she said, her confidence an anchor in his storm of uncertainty. "We go to The Hatchery. Together. We find this mystery man. I'll be your shadow. If it's a trap, I'll be the spring. If it's an ally, I'll be the judge of their character. But we do not separate. Not until we know what kind of sharks we're dealing with."
Her plan was simple, direct, and made perfect sense. Their alliance, forged in desperation, was solidifying into a functional partnership. She trusted his information, and he trusted her strength. It was a system of checks and balances born from chaos.
As they prepared to leave, Kaelen's mind raced. The message wasn't from [system.kernel]. It had a different sender, [User: ???]. This implied there were other… users. Other people who could interface with the System. Was he unique, or just the newest? The idea that he wasn't special, that he was just another piece in a much larger game, was both humbling and terrifying.
The anonymous sender knew about Entropy. That was the most disturbing part. Entropy seemed to be his fundamental weakness, the price of his power. And this person knew it. They knew he was bleeding into the cosmic ocean. The warning about "other sharks" suggested that the Guardians, the programmatic monstrosities hunting him, were just the janitors, the system's white blood cells. But that there were true, intelligent predators out there, also drawn to the scent of his corruption.
His hand went to the Codex, which he now kept hidden inside his tunic. The book itself was a mystery. He didn't remember picking it up after it had floated in the library, but when he'd woken in the room, it was beside him, cool and silent. Was it a part of him now? Bound to him? His Read of the book revealed nothing.
Object: Chronicler's Codex Class: [CLASSIFIED] Status: Bound to user [kaelen] Details: [INSUFFICIENT ACCESS LEVEL]
It was the one thing in the world he couldn't fully read. His own power was a closed book. He felt like a man given the reins of a speeding carriage, but with no knowledge of how the brakes worked or where the road led. Every decision was a calculated risk based on incomplete data. And now, a new variable, [User: ???], had entered the equation, and he had no idea if their goal was to help him find the brakes or to push him off a cliff.
"Ready?" Lyra's voice was low. She was already by the door, hood up, her form melting into the shadows.
"How do we find this place?" Kaelen asked. "The Hatchery."
"Everyone in the Low Districts knows of The Hatchery," she said. "But no one tells you how to get there. It's a test. If you can't find the way yourself, you have nothing of value to offer inside. But we have an advantage."
"My Read," Kaelen guessed.
"Exactly," she confirmed. "The Hatchery is an information nexus. The flow of people and goods to it must leave a trail. Look for patterns. People moving with purpose, not just wandering. Wares that don't belong on these streets. Follow the data. You're the error reader. Find the path the system doesn't want you to see."
They stepped out into the damp alleyways. The district was even more oppressive in the grey morning light. It was a living organism, breathing steam from the sewers and exhaling the stench of desperation. Kaelen focused, his mind tuning out the sights and smells, concentrating only on the data. He saw the code-lines representing people's routes. Most were chaotic, closed circuits: dock to tavern, tavern to flophouse, flophouse to gambling den. But, as Lyra predicted, there were others.
He saw a man with [Class: Shadow Courier] moving in a deliberate, straight line. He saw a woman with [Inventory: Arcane Artifact (Concealed)] avoiding the main thoroughfares. They were threads, threads of purpose in a tangle of chaos. And all the threads seemed to converge on a specific area, a derelict fish warehouse near the most remote dock.
"It's here," Kaelen said.
Lyra nodded, her hand resting casually on her belt. "Remember. No violence. I'll be your shadow. Say as little as possible. Just watch. Find your man."
They entered. The interior was a shocking contrast to the outside. It was a vast, open space, lit by floating spheres of soft light. Dozens of people moved through the hall, but the sound was muted, a murmur of whispered business. There were tables where people traded scrolls, counters where artifacts were examined, and dark alcoves where secrets were undoubtedly the only currency. The very air crackled with information. Kaelen felt both at home and completely out of his element. His Read was in overdrive, hundreds of profiles and objects flashing in his vision.
[Collective Threat Level: Low]. The neutrality rule was real and enforced by some unseen force.
He began to search, his gaze scanning the crowd for his target. The man reading a book with no words. A bizarre, poetic description. He looked for people reading. He saw scribes, merchants, spies. But all their books had content.
And then, in a dim corner away from the main flow of traffic, he saw him. A man sitting at a small table, dressed simply in traveler's clothes, his age impossible to guess. In his hands, he held a book. It was a small volume, bound in unmarked dark leather. And he was reading it with rapt intensity, his fingers tracing lines of text that weren't there.
Kaelen focused his Read on the book. The notification he received made his heart stop.
Object: [CLASSIFIED] Contents: [YOUR PRESENCE IS A BREACH. APPROACH.]
The text in the book was speaking directly to him.
The man slowly lifted his head. His face was plain, forgettable. But his eyes were not. They were a calm, glowing cyan-blue. The exact same color as the text from the private message.