Kael woke up in his apartment. It was a small box on the 40th floor of a crumbling tenement. The window was cracked, taped over with yellow plastic.
He sat up and checked his interface.
[Status: Normal]
[Memories: 1 Recovered]
It wasn't a dream.
He got up and splashed cold water on his face. The water was brown and smelled of rust. Standard for the slums.
He had a job to do. But first, he needed answers. The Oracle wouldn't tell him why Subject 89 had a blue crystal. The Oracle wouldn't tell him why he could see a game interface.
He needed someone who knew things the Oracle didn't.
He needed Old Man Vex.
Vex ran a pawn shop in the Under-City, the levels below the street where the sun never reached. It was a place for the Keepers, the people who refused to trade their memories.
Kael put on his coat. He checked his revolver. One bullet missing. He reloaded it.
The elevator ride down took ten minutes. The deeper he went, the worse the smell got. Sewage, fried food, and desperation.
The doors opened onto the Under-City market. It was chaos. Neon lights flickered. People were shouting, selling scraps of metal, old books, and real fruit—luxuries the Hollows up above didn't care about.
Kael pushed through the crowd. He kept his head down. A Hunter wasn't welcome here.
He found the shop tucked between a noodle stall and a collapsed wall. VEX'S CURIOSITIES.
The bell jingled as he entered. The shop was crammed with junk. Clocks, old radios, paper books. Things that had no function but held "history."
"We're closed," a voice croaked from behind a pile of old televisions.
"I'm not buying," Kael said. "I'm asking."
A withered old man popped up. He wore thick goggles and a leather apron. One of his arms was mechanical, rusted and squeaking.
"Hunter Kael," Vex spat. "Here to arrest me for hoarding paper?"
"Here to ask about a crystal," Kael said.
He described the blue stone Subject 89 had crushed. He didn't mention the System interface. Never show your full hand.
Vex's eyes narrowed behind the goggles. He went quiet. He looked around the empty shop, paranoid.
"Blue crystal," Vex whispered. "You sure it was blue? Not purple?"
"Blue. Like ice."
Vex let out a shaky breath. "That's a Memory Shard, boy. Pure, raw memory data. Unprocessed by the Oracle."
"Impossible," Kael said. "Memories are gas. They're extracted. They aren't rocks."
"That's what they tell you," Vex chuckled darkly. "But where do you think the Oracle puts all those memories people sell? They condense them. Solidify them. They use them for fuel."
Kael felt a chill. "Fuel for what?"
"For the barrier. For the city power. For everything." Vex leaned in closer. "Subject 89... if he had a Shard, he stole it from a transport. That means he stole a piece of someone's soul."
Kael thought of the text. Fragment Holder.
"If someone... absorbed it," Kael asked carefully. "What would happen?"
Vex laughed. It was a dry, rattling sound. "They'd burn out. Brain melt. Unless..."
"Unless?"
"Unless they were empty enough to hold it." Vex tapped Kael's chest. "Like you, Hunter. You Hollows are so empty, you could swallow a graveyard and not feel a thing."
Ding.
A sound only Kael could hear.
[Clue Discovered: The Origin of Shards.]
[Experience Gained: 50 XP.]
[Next Level: 50/100 XP.]
Kael stepped back. The logic was terrifying. The Oracle was strip-mining human souls to power the city. And the "System" Kael had... it was letting him steal it back.
"One more thing," Vex said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If 89 had a Shard, he wasn't working alone. The Rats don't have the tech to rob a transport."
"Who does?"
"The Syndicate," Vex said. "And if they know you killed their courier... you're already dead."
CRASH.
The front window of the shop shattered.
A Molotov cocktail sailed through the air, trailing fire. It smashed against the pile of old books.
Flames erupted instantly.
"They're here!" Vex screamed.