Axel woke before the orb pulsed there was no alert and no call. Just the subtle rhythm of the city filtering in.
He sat up slowly, the stiffness in his joints reminding him that rest was always partial, never complete. No sharp pain greeted him today.
His room was still dark, the low light from the rune-tuned lantern barely brushing the corners. It wasn't cold, though; the stone walls retained a certain warmth from the day before.
His gaze fell on the orb embedded into the wall, a soft, pulsing eye that never truly closed.
> Registry sync: 0.002%
> Surveillance level: Passive
> No flagged behavior detected
As always, NEX was always observing and analysing the surroundings.
He dressed without waiting for the usual reminder that the system sent others. The same cloak, the same tunic, both slightly cleaner than yesterday's, the fabric stiff from infrequent washing but functional nonetheless.
The reflection from the shard of broken mirror above the cistern caught his eye: pale face framed by unruly dark hair, hollow cheeks shadowed beneath tired eyes. He looked a little more rested, maybe. Yet still too thin, the skin stretched tight over bones that hadn't known real strength in months.
He ran a rough hand over his face and exhaled softly. "Let's try to be useful," he muttered under his breath, a half-hearted promise to himself.
Today, the system didn't assign him anything directly. Instead, it offered a list of three voluntary tasks:
< Fragment transcription – Archive Annex C
< Mana conduit cleaning – East Corridor Vaults
< Courier shift – Civic Quarter (Tier 4 only)
Axel's eyes settled immediately on the first option. Without hesitation, he chose the transcription task.
The Archive Annex was tucked away behind a tower that rose like a sentinel, its windows shuttered and sealed. Inside, the air was cool, unnervingly still, heavy with the scent of dust, stone, and magic.
A clerk barely looked up from a slate when Axel approached. A simple nod was all the welcome he received.
"You're here for transcription? Good. We're behind," the clerk said.
He handed him a slate, gloves, and a sealed case. The box was old and held a dozen half-shattered stone tablets, each one etched with partial glyphs from a language so ancient that most departments treated it like myth.
Many characters weren't full at all, just mere fragments, shards of sigils torn from their whole.
"Don't worry about translation," the clerk added briskly. "Just record and trace the patterns. The system will piece it together later."
Axel was led to a small room with only one long table, a scribing orb humming faintly at its center, and walls lined with suppressor runes designed to enforce absolute silence. It wasn't a request; it was a mandate.
He sat, pulled on his gloves, and opened the case carefully. Twelve plates lay before him. He started with the largest.
The symbols pulsed faintly beneath his fingertips, almost imperceptibly, though the runes themselves remained inert. Still, something inside him stirred—not recognition, but something like discomfort, as if a half-forgotten word was just out of reach on the edge of his mind.
> Glyph match: 3%.
> Fragment bears resemblance to cerebral lock-seals.
> Correlation uncertain. Proceed with caution.
NEX again. Always present when the stakes rose.
Axel exhaled slowly and began tracing.
The work was tedious, exacting, and required his full attention. He welcomed it. Time lost its meaning as he methodically moved through the plates, each stroke a quiet act of repetition.
Then, on the seventh plate, a knock shattered the enforced silence.
A figure stepped in—a short cloak over the city uniform, a polished copper bracer catching what little light there was. Not a clerk.
"You are Axel, right?"
He nodded.
"Irel. Supervisor trainee. You're one of the new intakes." The statement was declarative, no question asked.
"Yes."
Irel didn't approach the table. He kept his distance, arms crossed, studying.
"You're focused. That's rare for a first-timer. Most can't last more than an hour in here without fidgeting."
"I like quiet places," Axel replied evenly.
Irel's gaze sharpened.
"You traced that set backward. Old runes are usually read root-to-branch. You started branch-first."
Axel's hand froze.
"I was following structure," he said after a pause.
Irel raised an eyebrow.
"Fair enough. Just know it's not the standard."
He said no more, but before turning, added quietly, "If you ever wonder why some plates hum louder than others... ask the vault clerics. They don't like to talk, but sometimes they slip."
Then he left.
Axel lingered, watching the door long after it closed, before returning to his work.
When the last tracing was submitted, the orb pinged softly:
< Task completed.
< Classification: Engaged.
< Pattern recognition above average.
And then again, NEX appeared.
> Behavioral alignment within tolerable drift.
> Continue integration. Sync: +0.004%
> Note: Glyph exposure level 2. Cognitive stability unaffected.
He left the Annex through a side corridor, deliberately avoiding the main street. It wasn't paranoia. It was habit.
Halfway home, he stopped at a water vendor near the edge of the civic ring. He didn't need anything, but the vendor's chatter caught his attention.
"—said he didn't come in through any gate. No trail, no sigil, not even a sponsor. Just turned up in the registry. They're letting anyone in these days."
Axel didn't move.
The man next to the vendor scoffed.
"The one from the lower ward? Tall, quiet? Walks like he's still waiting for a fight?"
"Yeah, that one."
"Rumor is he was found near dead beyond the threshold. Not many get past the fog without guides."
Axel let the words wash over him. Rumors always spread. It was natural.
At least they hadn't yet guessed why he was different.
Yet.
That evening, Kaelin appeared at his door carrying half a roll of fruit bread and her usual grin.
"You didn't show up for courtyard sweep. You alright?"
"I took a transcription job."
"Smart. Dirty jobs suck. Did you hear what someone dumped in the west alley conduits?"
"No."
"Be glad." She dropped onto the bench by the cistern. "You look… less corpse-like. Congrats."
He allowed himself a faint smirk.
She tossed him a wrapped piece of bread. He caught it easily.
"Don't die of kindness," she joked. "I'm not doing it again."
They ate in companionable silence for a while.
Then she asked quietly, "You feel like they're watching you more than the others?"
Axel hesitated.
"Yes," he admitted. "But not for the reason they think."
Kaelin nodded slowly, as if that made perfect sense.
Later that night, after Kaelin left and the room sank back into its usual stillness, Axel sat on the edge of his bed, the orb casting long shadows against the walls.
He hadn't touched the meal packet left by the quartermaster. His mind was tangled in the shapes of the runes he'd traced. Not their meaning, but the way his hands had moved, automatic and instinctive, following patterns he shouldn't have known.
He hadn't followed the usual reading order and Irel had noticed that.
And NEX... NEX had been unusually silent all afternoon. Too silent.
Now, as if responding to his thoughts its voice returned, calm, cold, clinical, like always:
> Thought pattern abnormality: stabilized.
> Recall anchors: suppressed.
> Exposure to legacy script: logged.
> Memory barrier integrity: 92%.
> No immediate action required.
He clenched his fists, the calmness of the message making the weight in his chest grow heavier.
"Ninety-two percent," he whispered. "What happens when it drops to eighty?"
Silence.
"Or fifty?"
Still nothing.
He lay back, eyes on the ceiling, the faint rune-glow shifting gently with his breath. He closed his eyes, letting the memory of those glyphs come not as words, but as sensation, a pulse behind his skull, a cold pressure beneath his eyes...
It was not pain but recognition.
And beneath that, something darker: a presence that felt like it belonged inside him, watching from just beyond the barrier holding the rest of him intact.
> Cognitive drift detected.
> Maintain distance.
> Integration is conditional.
"Whose conditions?" he asked aloud.
He already knew.
This wasn't the Citadel's control. This wasn't their seal.
It was something different, deeper.
Whatever was buried behind those glyphs wasn't just information.
Maybe it was related to him. A version of himself NEX didn't want him to meet.
Or maybe to the true origin of the body he had now, of 'his' body.
He exhaled, sat up, and ran a hand across his face.
He felt watched by something within his own mind, patient and waiting.
He reached for the orb again. Its indifferent pulse greeted him.
< Surveillance status: Passive.
< Sync: Stable.
< No external threats detected.
But that wasn't the question he was asking.
His fingers touched the mark behind his shoulder, the one carved into his skin like a brand, just below the line of runes trailing down his spine.
He didn't know what kind of man he had been before.
But he was beginning to suspect that remembering him might be far more dangerous than forgetting.
> Sleep cycle advised.
> Registry review scheduled.
> Internal alignment pending.
There where too many unknowns, his new body, it's origins, and his mind...he wasn't sure anymore if his memories were true or just implanted.
He laughed softly, bitter.
"I'm not aligned," he whispered.
Not with NEX.
Not with the Citadel.
Not even with himself.
For now, he would just follow the rules.
Keep learning.
Keep pretending.
But there will be one day that someone would ask him the wrong question.
And one day, he might answer.