The walk back to the village felt longer than the walk out.
Maybe it was the silence between Elara and me—thicker now, loaded with everything we weren't saying.
Maybe it was the way the ley-line fracture kept humming in the back of my skull like a phone on vibrate that wouldn't stop.
Or maybe it was just the countdown ticking in my peripheral vision: 9 hours until some cosmic HR rep showed up to audit my entire existence.
Either way, my legs were heavy by the time the palisade came back into view.
Tiro spotted us first. He came sprinting across the square, arms pumping, yelling my name like I'd been gone for years instead of half a morning.
"Kai! Kai! Did you fix the glowy rocks? Did you delete them?"
I caught him before he could tackle my knees.
"Nah, kid. Rocks are still glowing. We had a polite disagreement instead."
He frowned, clearly disappointed that no explosions had occurred.
Elara ruffled his hair as she passed. "Go tell your mother we're back. And stay out of trouble."
Tiro scampered off, already shouting for Seline.
Garrick met us at the gate. His face looked ten years older than yesterday.
"You returned," he said, like he hadn't been entirely sure we would.
"Still here," I replied. "For now."
He glanced at the empty road beyond the palisade. "No more riders?"
"Not yet. But the tea leaves say they're coming."
He didn't laugh at the joke. Nobody did.
Inside the long hall, a small crowd had gathered—maybe twenty people. Not demanding. Not hostile. Just… waiting. Like villagers waiting for the rain to decide whether it would save the crops or drown them.
I didn't make them wait long.
"Look," I said, raising my voice enough to carry. "Short version: there's a crack in the world's foundation. Every time I hit delete, the crack gets wider. Something's coming to fix it—or fix *me*. ETA about nine hours. After that, things might get… weird."
Murmurs rippled.
One man near the back—broad shoulders, blacksmith hands—spoke up.
"Can you stop it?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. But stopping it might mean deleting something big. Or someone. Or everything in a ten-kilometer radius. Jury's still out."
More murmurs. Some fear. Some resignation.
Elara stepped forward beside me.
"He refused to delete the anchor spirit that offered itself. He could have ended the threat this morning. He chose not to."
The room went quiet.
Garrick looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
"Then you are not the destroyer we feared," he said slowly.
"I'm still pretty destructive," I admitted. "Just… selective."
A woman near the fire—older, gray streaks in her braid—spoke next.
"What do you need from us?"
I blinked.
"Uh… nothing? I mean, if you've got more of that tea, I won't say no. But mostly I just need space to think. And maybe a quiet corner where I won't accidentally delete anyone's grandma if I sneeze wrong."
Soft laughter. Nervous, but real.
They cleared a space near the back wall. A low stool. A small table. Another mug of tea appeared almost instantly.
I sat.
The crowd didn't disperse. They just… settled. Watching. Waiting. Like I was the only channel on the television and they couldn't change it.
I stared at the red button.
It stared back.
I tried talking to it out loud—quiet enough that only Elara, sitting nearby, could hear.
"Okay, System. Or Glitch. Or whatever your name is. You've got my attention. Spill."
Nothing at first.
Then the box appeared. Smaller than usual. Almost shy.
```
[Direct Interface Request Acknowledged]
Designation: Provisional Administrator Relay (PAR-13)
Call me Glitch if it helps.
You are correct. Continued use accelerates cascade.
Current projection: full lockdown in 8 hours 47 minutes.
Lockdown protocol: User privileges revoked. Anomaly contained. Reality weave forcibly stabilized.
Outcome for user: Deletion (permanent).
```
I read it twice.
Then muttered, "So basically, you're saying if I keep breathing wrong, I get erased."
```
Affirmative.
Alternative pathways exist.
But all require sacrifice.
You already rejected the first.
```
"Yeah. Not a fan of assisted suicide."
Glitch paused—actually paused, like it was thinking.
```
Then consider this:
Delete selectively.
Target high-value stressors only.
Current highest-threat vector: Blackspire Keep.
Lord Varn maintains a stabilized rift-anchor within the keep's undercroft.
Destroying it would reduce local strain by ~41%.
Delay administrative arrival by approximately 72 hours.
Risk: Varn is Level 68. Surrounded by elite guard. Arcane wards. Personal relic armor.
Probability of success via conventional means: 0.04%.
Probability via your method: 99.87% (assuming no self-sabotage).
```
I leaned back against the wall.
"So go big or go home. Literally."
Elara had been listening. Her voice was low.
"Blackspire is three days by horse. Less if we push. But Varn will have scouts. Reinforcements. He knows something hunts him now."
I looked at her.
"You're volunteering?"
"I owe you my life twice over. And my sister's. And my nephew's. If there is a chance to end this tribute forever…"
She trailed off.
I looked around the hall.
Faces watching me.
Not with worship. Not with terror.
With hope. The dangerous kind. The kind that makes people follow you into stupid decisions.
I sighed.
"Fine. We go to Blackspire. We find this rift-anchor thing. I delete it. World gets a breather. I get more time before the admin shows up with the termination notice."
Murmurs of approval.
Garrick stood.
"We will prepare mounts. Supplies. Volunteers who wish to ride with you."
I held up a hand.
"Hold up. No army. No glorious charge. We sneak. We scout. We delete quietly. The second this turns into a war, I start deleting things I don't mean to. Understood?"
Nods all around.
Elara met my eyes.
"When do we leave?"
I finished the tea in one long swallow.
"Sunset. Gives us time to pack. Gives me time to regret every choice that led to this moment."
She almost smiled.
"You regret little, Kai Voss."
"Don't tempt fate."
As the hall began to bustle—people moving with sudden purpose—I leaned my head back against the cool wood and closed my eyes.
The blue box flickered one last time before vanishing.
```
[Quest Accepted (Forced)]
Objective: Infiltrate Blackspire Keep. Delete the stabilized rift-anchor.
Secondary: Minimize collateral deletions.
Reward: 72-hour administrative delay. Potential new title.
Failure state: Lockdown. Permanent user deletion.
Good luck, anomaly.
You're going to need it.
```
I snorted softly.
"Yeah. Thanks for the pep talk, Glitch."
Outside, the sun climbed higher.
Inside my head, the countdown kept falling.
Eight hours and change.
Plenty of time to ruin everything.
Or maybe—just maybe—fix something for once.