Life in Omega Class was… weirdly comfortable, in a messed-up sort of way. After my little stunt in the Arena of Rebirth, where I basically out-glitched the system, the academy mostly left us alone. They still observed us, sure, the 'scientists' would pop by with their clipboards and weird gadgets, but they kept their distance. Like I was a ticking time bomb they were studying from afar. Varn, Reo, and I had settled into a routine: training (mostly me figuring out my Void Rewrite and Varn teaching us how to exploit loopholes), sneaking around at night, and trying to piece together what the hell was actually going on in this place.
Reo was still reeling from finding his name on some 'failed transfer' list, and he'd gotten even more hot-headed. "They're just playing with us, Kael! Like lab rats!" he'd yell, punching a training dummy a little too hard. "We gotta break out of here!"
Varn, though, was usually chilling, observing everything with that unnerving smirk. "Patience, dear Reo," he'd purr, wiping fake blood from his cheek after a particularly brutal training session. "You can't smash a system if you don't understand its weak points. Besides," he'd tap his head, "they think we're just dumb animals. That's their biggest mistake." He was right. They had no idea how sharp Varn was, or how quickly I was adapting.
Then came the day everything went sideways, again.
It was during another training session in the main arena, the same one where I'd fought Drax. This time, all the Omega Class kids were there, along with a bunch of higher-ranked students, doing some joint exercise. The stands were pretty full, though not as packed as during the official tournaments. Suddenly, the lights flickered, plunged into a brief, unsettling darkness, then came back on with a sickly green hue.
A low, guttural growl echoed through the arena. It wasn't the sound of a training dummy or a simulated monster. This was… real. Panic rippled through the higher-class students. They were used to controlled environments, not raw, unadulterated chaos.
And then it appeared. A Glitch Beast. A massive, grotesque thing, shimmering and distorting, as if its very existence was tearing the fabric of reality. Its limbs seemed to stretch and contract unnaturally, its eyes burned with a sickly, corrupted light. It was even bigger and more horrifying than the ones I'd faced in Layer Null. This one was a true nightmare, born from failed code and warped dimensions.
It lunged, slamming into the pristine arena floor, cracking the reinforced tiles. Students screamed, scattering like frightened mice. The instructors, usually so composed, looked utterly bewildered, shouting orders that no one could hear over the monster's roars. This wasn't part of the program.
The Glitch Beast was causing absolute mayhem. It swiped at students, its claws phasing through their defenses, causing bizarre glitches in their bodies—one kid's arm suddenly twisted at an impossible angle, another's voice started playing backwards. Total chaos.
I stood there, frozen for a second, not in fear, but in… recognition. This wasn't just any Glitch Beast. There was something about its distorted energy signature, a resonance I felt deep in my bones. It felt almost… familiar.
Then, the creature turned its head. Its glowing, corrupted eyes locked onto me. It stopped its rampage. The arena, moments ago filled with screams, fell into a terrifying silence. All eyes, human and monster alike, were on me.
The Glitch Beast slowly, almost reverently, lowered its massive head. And then, it did something impossible. It knelt. Right there, in the middle of the arena, a creature of pure chaos, born from the brokenness of Layer Null, knelt before me. It let out a low rumble, not a growl, but something akin to a purr, a sound that seemed to vibrate directly in my mind. It sounded like… recognition. As if it was calling me something. My mind struggled to grasp it. It was calling me... "King." King.
My heart hammered against my ribs. What the hell was happening? Why would this creature, a pure manifestation of chaos, kneel to me? The higher-ranked students and even the instructors were staring, utterly dumbfounded. Fear turned to confusion, then to outright terror in their eyes. This anomaly from Layer Null, this "error," was somehow connected to the very things that threatened their ordered world.
Before anyone could react, the Glitch Beast let out a mournful cry, a sound that seemed to express both reverence and deep sorrow. Then, with a final, shuddering distortion, it dissolved into a cloud of shimmering, corrupted energy, leaving behind nothing but cracked tiles and a lingering sense of dread. It was gone as quickly as it came.
The academy was in pandemonium. The higher-ups, now seeing the true extent of my 'anomaly', went into full panic mode. They immediately sent out elite squads, not to hunt down the Glitch Beast, but to hunt me. Quietly, of course. They couldn't have a walking system-breaker running loose, especially one that glitch beasts seemed to worship.
I managed to slip away in the chaos, Varn and Reo creating enough of a distraction to buy me time. I needed to be alone. I needed to think. My mind was racing. King? Why would it call me that?
I found myself in a secluded corner of the academy, a forgotten storage room filled with old, dusty equipment. The hum of the Ascension Protocol in my chest was louder now, more insistent. It felt like it was trying to tell me something, pushing against a barrier in my mind.
And then it hit me. That thought I had back in the medical bay, about the Codex. The manual of the system. What if it wasn't just a metaphor?
I closed my eyes, focusing on that persistent hum, on the feeling of raw power within me. I pushed, mentally, gently at first, then with more force, at the invisible barrier in my mind. It resisted, but then, with a sharp crack that reverberated through my skull, it shattered.
Information flooded my mind. Not just data, but raw, unfiltered knowledge. It was like a dam had broken. I saw diagrams, lines of code, complex algorithms, all intertwining. And there it was. The Codex. It wasn't a physical book; it was a vast, sprawling database existing entirely within my mind, a complete manual for the Ascension Protocol itself, and by extension, for the very reality of Arkinexus.
I saw the "Aspect" and "Code" classifications, not just as labels, but as fundamental building blocks of existence. I saw how the "Ranks" were calculated, how "Echoes" could be drawn upon. And I saw something else, something far more profound: the core function of my Void Rewrite. It wasn't just minor manipulations. It was the ability to access and literally rewrite the 'code of existence' of creatures or objects, even the laws of magic around me. I wasn't just a glitch. I was a rewriter. I could change fundamental reality.
The sheer scope of it was overwhelming. I could see the system's vulnerabilities, its hidden functions, its deepest secrets. It was like I had just been given the administrator password to the entire world.
Suddenly, a memory flashed, unbidden, from my time in Layer Null. A moment of intense pain, a near-death experience, when I was barely clinging to life. And then, that first spark, that moment the Ascension Protocol had activated. It wasn't random. It was a failsafe. A last-ditch effort by the system, perhaps even by the mysterious Architect himself, to correct an error, or to give a tool to someone who could finally break the cycle.
I thought of Varn. He was seriously injured from a run-in with some academy enforcers while we were sneaking around. His "Twin Echoes" ability was great, but he was still just a kid, susceptible to mortal wounds. Could I use this? Could I rewrite him back to health?
I focused on Varn, on what I remembered of his core existence, the code of his being. I saw the damage, the errors. Hesitantly, I extended a mental tendril of my Void Rewrite ability. It felt like touching raw data, shaping it with my will. I focused on "health," on "healing," on "stability."
[Void Rewrite: Target – Varn Lude. Initiating 'Restoration Protocol'.]
I heard a faint pop, like a distant bubble bursting. Not in my mind, but in the air around me. Then, a shudder. The lights in the storage room flickered violently. A shelf of old, dusty equipment groaned and twisted, its metal morphing into bizarre, impossible shapes. Outside, I heard a distant, high-pitched wail – the academy's alarms. The very fabric of the building seemed to groan. The weather outside, visible through a small, grimy window, shifted violently, rain turning to hail, then back again, in a matter of seconds. Time itself seemed to jump.
The system was screaming. My Rewrite wasn't just localized. It was affecting the wider reality. I was causing a glitchquake.
A new notification flashed in my mind, red and urgent:
[Ascension Protocol: Critical System Error Detected. Unauthorized Rewrite – Stability Compromised.]
[Warning: Continued Unauthorized Rewrites will result in SYSTEM COLLAPSE. User Deletion Imminent.]
I pulled back, gasping, the power receding. My head throbbed. The damage I'd caused wasn't just a minor fluctuation. I had truly messed with the world's code.
A deep, commanding voice echoed from outside the storage room, not through a speaker, but seemingly from the very walls themselves, cutting through the wailing alarms. It was the Academy Director. Her presence, her very "Authority," felt heavy, suffocating.
"Kael Serian," her voice boomed, calm yet utterly chilling. "Your Protocol is an anomaly. Your abilities threaten the very stability of Arkinexus. You have two choices: Submit to full system deletion, or participate in the 'Path to Apex' tournament. There, your Protocol will either be integrated... or destroyed."
My heart hammered. Deletion, or a tournament that was actually a ritual of control. I looked at the flickering lights, the morphing metal of the shelf. I looked at my hands, still trembling. I could rewrite reality. But at what cost? And what if I chose to fight? To truly rewrite everything?
A cold determination settled over me. They wanted to control me? To delete me? They had no idea who they were dealing with. I had just scratched the surface of what I could do. And I definitely wasn't going to be deleted.
I stepped out of the storage room, into the chaos of the alarmed academy, and met the Director's piercing gaze head-on. "I'll fight." My voice was hoarse, but steady. "I'll take your Path to Apex."
This wasn't just about survival anymore. This was about freedom. And maybe, just maybe, tearing down the rotten system from the inside.
Thoughts on the environment and Kael's feelings:
The academy, usually so pristine, becoming a chaotic mess during the Glitch Beast attack was a powerful image. It showed how fragile their "perfect" system truly was, how easily it could be disrupted by something from the forbidden zones. The contrast between the students' panic and my strange calm, my recognition of the beast, really highlighted my unique connection to the glitch world. And the monster kneeling… that was a game-changer. It wasn't just a random event; it was a profound acknowledgement of my "King" status among the glitches. It meant I wasn't just a system error; I was a fundamental part of a different, wilder order.
The discovery of the Codex in my mind was exhilarating. It wasn't just power; it was understanding. It was like suddenly being able to see the source code of reality itself. All those whispers about "Protocol Zero," "Void Lords," "Codebearers" – it all started to click into place. My ability to Void Rewrite wasn't just about minor tweaks; it was about fundamentally altering existence. That was a terrifying power, and the immediate, chaotic backlash of the "glitchquake" proved it. It showed me the immense responsibility, and danger, of what I could do. My decision to try and heal Varn, even at risk to myself, shows that hidden idealism I have, despite my cold exterior.
The Director's ultimatum – deletion or the "Path to Apex" – wasn't really a choice. It was a trap. They weren't inviting me to ascend; they were trying to contain or destroy me. But by now, my perspective had shifted. I wasn't just trying to survive; I was starting to understand that I was a key player in a much larger conflict, one that threatened the very fabric of Arkinexus. The thought of Eldrin Voss, who could "erase existence", sent a chill down my spine. If I could rewrite, could I truly stand against someone who could unmake things? The "System Collapse" warning, the threat of my own deletion, it just fueled my determination. I wasn't a victim; I was a counter-force. The game had just begun.