The air in the Silt District smelled like a cocktail of rusted iron and rotting fish.
Ian woke up on a damp mattress, his brain throbbing like a failing power grid. But it wasn't just the hangover. Across his vision, a jagged line of crimson text was flickering violently, tearing through the darkness of his room.
[ SYSTEM ERROR: TEMPORAL OVERLAP DETECTED ]
[ ACCESSING UEF LOGIC CORE... 0.001% RESTORED ]
"Logic... is the only shield," Ian muttered, the ancient motto of the United Earth Federation echoing in his mind.
In his past life, he was a Senior Logic Auditor. He lived in a world of golden grids and perfect algorithms, a world that was deleted because of a single unfixable paradox. Now, he was a ghost in a body that felt like a pile of wet clay.
Click.
The faint sound of a lockpicker vibrating against his door handle sent a jolt of adrenaline through his heart.
[ PREDICTION: You will die in 105 seconds. ]
[ CAUSE: Throat slit by a rusted kitchen cleaver. ]
[ LIKELIHOOD: 99.4% ]
Ian's eyes narrowed. As a former Auditor, he didn't fear death; he hated "errors." And this killer was an error that needed to be corrected.
He looked at the door. Through the crimson "Glitch" in his vision, he saw a ghostly red silhouette standing in the hallway. It was a projection of the immediate future. The phantom kicked the door open and lunged.
90 seconds.
Ian didn't grab a knife. He grabbed a heavy iron skillet and a jar of cheap, flammable cooking oil.
"If the world is a glitch," Ian whispered, his eyes glowing with a faint, digital blue light, "then I am the one who audits it."
[ 60 seconds remaining. The executioner is entering. ]