Einstein Jacob discovered that it was much harder to navigate a crowded London Underground at 8:30 a.m. than it was to infiltrate a high-security mountain fortress.
Without his Sovereign powers to part the crowds or fold space, he was just another body in a charcoal suit, pressed against the sliding doors of the Northern Line. His "New Human" biology made him hyper-aware of everything: the smell of damp wool, the frantic pulse of the woman next to him, and the faint, rhythmic hum of the city's aging infrastructure.
"You look like you're vibrating," Felicity teased, clutching a strap next to him as the train lurched toward Leicester Square.
"I'm trying to ignore the fact that the person behind me has a slightly elevated cortisol level and a very aggressive cold," Einstein whispered. "My senses are tuned for a 25th-level war, but my reality is a Tuesday morning commute."
"Welcome to the human race, Einstein. It's loud, it's messy, and we're three minutes behind schedule."
The Office of Shadows
At the boutique advertising firm, the day began with the mundane. Einstein spent three hours reviewing the "color psychology" of a regional cheese brand's new logo. For a man who had seen the fundamental light of the universe, debating whether "Sunset Orange" or "Amber" felt more "organic" was a special kind of torture.
But beneath the boredom, the "Digital Ghost" was moving.
Around 11:00 a.m., Einstein's desktop monitor flickered. A single line of code scrolled across the screen, invisible to anyone but him: [ASSET TRACKING: SOVEREIGN DETECTED. COMMENCE SYSTEM AUDIT.]
Einstein didn't panic. He continued typing his memo about cheese branding, but his left hand dropped beneath the desk to a small, modified tablet he had built with Rhea.
The ghost was not in the building's network; it was in the power grid. It was using the fluctuations in the building's electricity to "read" the keystrokes of every computer. It was a technique the Accountant had perfected—the "Electronic Séance."
"You're persistent," Einstein thought, his mind racing through the logic of the code.
The Lunch Hour Ambush
Einstein decided to draw the ghost out. He told Felicity he was going for a sandwich and walked toward a small park near the Thames. He chose a bench that was directly under a high-voltage power line.
As he sat down, the air around him began to crackle. A nearby digital billboard, which was supposed to be showing a perfume ad, suddenly glitched. A face began to form—a digital composite of a thousand different people, flickering in and out of existence.
"Einstein Jacob," the billboard whispered through the street's speakers. "The King who gave away his crown. Do you truly think the world will let you be ordinary?"
"The world doesn't have a choice," Einstein said, unwrapping a ham and cheese sandwich. "I closed the account."
"You closed the bank, but you left the Vault open," the ghost hissed. "Your DNA is a treasure map. The Committee failed because they used force. We will use Data. By the time we are finished, every human treated with your 'Dividend' will be a node in our network. You didn't free them, Einstein. You turned them into hardware."
Einstein's grip on his sandwich tightened. This was the Accountant's final revenge: a "Biological Internet" where the Jacob-patents acted as the operating system.
The Sovereign's Counter-Code
Einstein didn't have his Sovereign aura, but he still had his Logic. He stood up and walked toward the base of the billboard.
"If I'm a node in your network," Einstein said, his voice dropping into that low, resonant frequency that caused the nearby pigeons to take flight, "then I'm the Administrator."
He placed his palm against the metal casing of the billboard's control box. He didn't use a power-blast. He used a Bio-Electrical Pulse.
His "New Human" cells produced a rhythmic burst of energy that mirrored the Jacob-Resonance. He injected a "Virus of Choice" into the grid. It wasn't a destructive code; it was an Encryption Key for human autonomy.
"I didn't just give them health," Einstein whispered into the machine. "I gave them Privacy."
The billboard screamed with a burst of static, the digital face dissolving into a thousand points of light. The "Electronic Séance" broke, and the hum in the air vanished. For a mile in every direction, every digital screen went dark for exactly three seconds before rebooting into a simple, calming blue.
The Dinner Table Peace
Einstein returned to the office, finished his cheese campaign, and walked home with Felicity. They stopped at a grocery store, argued about which pasta sauce to buy, and complained about the rising price of eggs.
As they sat at their small kitchen table that evening, Elara called through a secure link.
"Einstein, the digital ghost... it's gone silent. But it managed to send one packet of data to a coordinate in the North Atlantic before you shut it down."
Einstein looked at Felicity, who was laughing at a silly video on her phone. He looked at his own hands, which were steady and warm.
"Let it go, Elara," Einstein said. "If it comes back, we'll be ready. But tonight... tonight I'm just a man who successfully finished a marketing campaign for cheddar."
"A Sovereign of Cheddar?" Elara joked.
"Exactly."
Einstein hung up and looked at his phone.
Current Balance: £25.50 (He had bought lunch).
He felt a sense of peace that was deeper than any 25th-level Void. He had navigated a "normal" week, defended the world from a digital ghost, and still made it home in time for dinner.
But as he looked out the window, he saw a single, silver raven perched on the roof of the building across the street. Its eyes were not black, but a cold, glowing violet. It watched him for a moment before taking flight toward the North Atlantic.
The King might be retired, but the Shadow of the Void was just getting started.