The fruit from the Celestial Peak's subsidiary synthesizer tasted like liquid sunlight and structural integrity. With each bite, Kaelen felt a warmth spreading through him that was different from the stimulant gel's sharp alertness. This was deeper—a cellular satisfaction, as if his body was remembering what it meant to be properly nourished. His tablet, analyzing the remains, had simply flashed: [Biocompatibility: 98%. Spiritual Trace: Present. Recommendation: Consume fully.]
He'd cleared the Western Glade of gloom-moss. The process had become a strange, meditative rhythm: identify the three anchor points with his tablet's overlay, apply his crude chemical patches, trigger the laser-scalpel spark, then lift the ashen remains with the dead spiritual wedge. Overseer Li had watched the last hour of work in complete silence, his expression unreadable. When Kaelen presented the full basket of grey dust, the old cultivator had merely nodded.
"Your… method is unorthodox, but effective," Li had said, his voice like stones grinding deep underground. "The Garden's resonance has improved by three percent in this sector. For a null, this is statistically improbable. Anya will escort you back."
Now, back in the grim sterility of Berth 42, the contrast was jarring. The air felt thin, empty of the vibrant energy that had hummed through the Garden. The memory of that energy, however, lingered in his muscles and his mind. He felt clearer, sharper.
He also had a problem.
His tablet, resting on the sleeping pad, was displaying a new, persistent notification that had appeared the moment he'd re-entered the Null Quarter.
[ALERT: External Diagnostic Scan Detected.]
[Source: Unidentified. Frequency: Irregular. Purpose: Passive Monitoring.]
[Scan Depth: Surface Biometrics & Energy Signature.]
[Status: Ongoing. Last ping: 47 seconds ago.]
Someone was watching him. Not the regular, dumb security scans of the Quarter. This was targeted. Subtle. Vik'nar's cold efficiency? Overseer Li's curiosity? Someone else?
The wall to his left fuzzed briefly on schedule. Zyx's voice, tinny with excitement, hissed through. "You're back! And you're… glowing? Faintly. In the wrong spectrum. Did you absorb unstable photons?"
"It's fruit," Kaelen whispered back during the next weak-point cycle. "From the Peak. And I'm being scanned. Constantly."
The response came after the wall solidified and cycled again. "Ooooh. Passive surveillance protocol. Probably triggered by your anomalous activity elsewhere. The system doesn't like statistical improbabilities. It tries to… categorize."
"How do I stop it?"
"You don't stop it. You… misdirect it. Feed it plausible data. Your device! Can it spoof a biometric signature?"
Kaelen looked at his tablet. Could it? It had root access to various systems. He navigated through the menus, finding the device's own diagnostic settings. There was a subsystem labeled [External Interface - Broadcast Protocols]. It was currently set to [NULL/ERROR].
He changed it to [ACTIVE - DIAGNOSTIC MODE].
Immediately, a new option appeared: [Simulate Standard Bio-Signature: Y/N?]
He selected Y. A list populated with generic templates: [Humanoid - Baseline], [Humanoid - Low-Grade Cultivator], [Carbon-Based - Fatigue State], and dozens more.
"It can simulate," Kaelen reported during the next window.
"Excellent!" Zyx's voice was gleeful. "Set it to… hmm. Not 'Null-Type.' Too obvious. Set it to 'Carbon-Based - Fatigue State' with a… 12% variance oscillation. Make it look like you're exhausted from manual labor and mildly undernourished. That's a boring, expected data-stream. It might satisfy the watcher."
Kaelen configured the broadcast. His tablet began emitting a low-powered, repeating signal of fabricated biometric data—heart rate, body temperature, residual energy signature—all painting the picture of a tired, unremarkable worker.
The [External Diagnostic Scan Detected] alert didn't vanish, but its status changed.
[Status: Receiving expected data. Scan frequency reducing.]
Good. It was working. For now.
"Thank you, Zyx."
"Of course! We errors must stick together. Besides, your activities are the most interesting data-stream in this sector. Oh! I analyzed the surge you requested. The mag-lock's capacitor failed beautifully. Did you access the conduit?"
"I got a maintenance kit," Kaelen confirmed.
"Splendid! That opens fascinating possibilities. The kit contains a universal interface filament, yes? It can patch into most Versity data-ports."
"It does."
"Then you need to find a Hidden Node," Zyx said, as if it were the most obvious next step.
During the next 0.4-second window, Kaelen asked, "A what?"
"The Versity is old. Built in layers. Sometimes, when systems are upgraded or departments move, old infrastructure is walled off but not disconnected. Access points forgotten in maintenance shafts, behind panels, in sub-sub-basements. They're blind spots in the security mesh. Often with outdated, weaker security protocols. A place where a clever someone with a universal interface could… browse."
A backdoor. An abandoned terminal. The concept sent a thrill through Kaelen. A place to learn without being watched.
"Do you know where one is?" he asked.
"I have… suspicions. My spatial glitch-sense detects odd echoes in the structural integrity field near the primary waste processing hub in Sub-Basement 9. A faint, repeating pattern behind a wall that doesn't align with the current schematics. Could be a buried relay node from when the Quarter's monitoring was handled locally instead of centrally."
Sub-Basement 9. Deeper than he'd been. The waste processing hub. It sounded foul and dangerous.
"I have a duty assignment tomorrow," Kaelen said. "Probably more sorting or cleaning."
"Perfect cover! Bring your kit and your device. I will monitor the security patrol patterns from here. I can… create minor optical distortions near cameras for short periods. Not enough to erase you, but enough to make you blurry if you move quickly."
They synchronized their internal chronometers—a feature Kaelen's tablet had gleaned from the Versity network. They would attempt the exploration in 18 cycles, during a shift change in the overseer rotations.
The next cycle, his duty assignment was exactly as predicted: sorting composite debris in Sub-Basement 8, one level above the target. Brog oversaw with his usual disgruntled silence. Kaelen worked with deliberate, medium efficiency—not enough to stand out, not enough to be punished. He used the time to subtly scan the walls and floor with his tablet, building a more detailed map of the structural supports and conduit paths leading downward.
When the shift-change horn blared, Brog grunted, "Cycle's end. Clean your station." He stomped away toward the overseer's lift.
This was the window. The transition period lasted approximately 12 minutes. Security was handled by autonomous drones during this time, which Zyx had promised to confound.
Kaelen moved. Instead of heading to the main lift, he ducked into a side corridor marked with a fading rune for "Volatile Byproduct Venting." The air grew warmer and carried a chemical tang. Following his map and Zyx's directions, he found a maintenance ladder leading down a narrow, poorly lit shaft. He descended one level, emerging into Sub-Basement 9.
The waste processing hub was vast and thunderous. Great grinding mills churned unknown materials into base particles. Dissolution vats bubbled with acidic-looking fluids. Conveyor belts carried shapeless debris into crushers. The noise was a physical pressure. The smell was indescribable—ozone, decay, and the sour tang of neutralized exotic matter.
Perfect. No one would linger here, and the noise would cover any sounds he made.
His tablet's overlay, tuned to Zyx's "odd echo" parameters, pulsed softly. A section of wall behind a colossal, dormant filtration unit glowed with a faint, green grid pattern that didn't match the surrounding structure. An architectural ghost.
He squeezed behind the filtration unit. The wall here was made of large, hexagonal composite plates. One plate, near the floor, had a hairline crack around its edges. Not a manufactured seam, but a fracture. He took out his multi-tool, selected a fine pry-head, and wedged it into the crack. With a soft pop of released pressure, the entire hexagonal plate came loose. Behind it was darkness and a rush of cool, stale air.
A crawl space. Just large enough for him to shimmy through. He slipped inside, pulling the plate mostly closed behind him.
He was in a narrow tunnel, clearly not meant for regular access. Conduits lined the walls, but they were of an older design—thicker, with crystalline insulation instead of the modern shimmer-wrap. Dust, centuries thick, coated everything. His tablet's light cut a beam through the gloom.
Twenty feet in, the tunnel ended at a smooth, metal surface. A door. Or a panel. There was no handle, just a faint, circular indentation. A palm-reader? A key-port?
He scanned it with his tablet.
[Object: Secure Access Hatch - Model SAH-22 (Legacy).]
[Security: Biometric & Energy Signature Lock. Status: Standby (Low Power).]
[Power Source: Isolated Capacitor. Charge: 3%.]
[Note: Lock protocols are outdated. Vulnerable to brute-force code injection if external power is supplied to bypass capacitor.]
An outdated lock running on fumes. And he had a universal interface filament.
He opened the maintenance kit. The superconductive filament was a slender wire that could morph its tip to match any known data-port. He scanned the circular indentation again. The tablet highlighted four tiny contact points within it.
"Match interface to port type… SAH-22 legacy data," he murmured. The filament shimmered, its tip reshaping into a four-pronged plug. He carefully inserted it into the indentation. It clicked into place.
On his tablet, a connection prompt appeared.
[Connected to: SECURE_NODE_ALPHA (Legacy).]
[Access Level: NONE. Authentication Required.]
Time for brute-force. The system was weak, running on 3% power. He commanded his tablet to begin a basic code injection attack—flooding the lock's simple processor with random authentication attempts while simultaneously feeding a trickle of power from the tablet's own dying battery into the capacitor, confusing its low-power protocols.
Lines of code scrolled on his screen. [Attempt 1... Rejected.] [Attempt 2... Rejected.] The tablet's battery icon dropped from 8% to 6%.
[Attempt 47...]
A pause.
[...Authentication Bypassed. Capacitor Override Successful.]
[Welcome, Maintenance Technician (Generic). Access: LIMITED.]
With a deep, hydraulic thunk, the hatch slid sideways into the wall.
Kaelen stepped through.
The room was small, maybe ten feet square. It was a time capsule. The walls were lined with banks of crystalline data-storage units, their faint internal lights pulsing slowly like sleeping hearts. In the center was a single, curved console with a tactile interface of physical buttons and a small, monochrome display screen. Everything was coated in a fine layer of dust, but it was intact. The air was cool and smelled of static and preserved metal.
A Hidden Node. A forgotten monitoring station.
He approached the console. The screen flickered to life at his presence, displaying simple text in an archaic font.
**APEX VERSITY - QUARTERS MONITORING STATION NQ-ALPHA**
**STATUS: STANDBY (NETWORK CONNECTION: DISABLED)**
**FUNCTIONS: LOCAL SURVEILLANCE LOGS, ENVIRONMENTAL CONTROL, PERSONNEL TRACKING (LAST UPDATE: CYCLE 34,811)**
Cycle 34,811. That was… thousands of cycles ago. This station had been offline since before he was born, before Earth had even received its doom-sentence.
He sat at the console. The interface was simple, designed for quick diagnostics. He navigated through the menus.
**> ACCESS LOCAL SURVEILLANCE ARCHIVES**
A list of camera feeds appeared, but all were labeled [FEED LOST - NODE OFFLINE].
**> ACCESS PERSONNEL TRACKING LOGS**
This was more promising. The station had stored localized movement data for the Null Quarter based on biometric scanners in the walls and floors. He searched for recent data, but the logs stopped at Cycle 34,811. However, there was a function: [RUN DIAGNOSTIC ON LOCAL SENSOR GRID].
He ran it. The screen flickered.
**DIAGNOSTIC INITIATED...**
**SCANNING SUBNET NQ-ALPHA...**
**...17% OF SENSORS RESPONSIVE.**
**...DOWNLOADING AVAILABLE DATA...**
A new log file began to populate. It wasn't live data, but cached information from the still-active sensors in the walls—the same sensors that had been pinging him. It showed movement patterns, energy signatures, door accesses.
He scrolled. He saw his own entry from earlier: [BIOSIGNATURE: CARBON-BASED - FATIGUE STATE] registered entering and leaving Berth 42. Good, his spoof was working at this level too.
Then he saw something else. An entry from two cycles ago, timestamped in the middle of the sleep period.
[BIOSIGNATURE: SYNTHETIC-ORGANIC HYBRID. DESIGNATION: UNKNOWN. SECURITY CLEARANCE: OMEGA (TEMPORARY).]
[MOVEMENT: ENTERED NULL QUARTER VIA PRIORITY CONDUIT G-12. DESTINATION: SUB-BASEMENT 7 (ANOMALOUS MATERIALS HOLDING). DURATION: 14 MINUTES. EXITED.]
A synthetic-organic hybrid with Omega-level clearance, visiting the Anomalous Materials cell in the middle of the night. That was after Kaelen had dealt with the Lullaby Casket. What were they doing there? Checking his work? Retrieving something?
Before he could ponder further, another entry caught his eye from just a few hours ago.
[BIOSIGNATURE: PURE LOGIC-CONSTRUCT. DESIGNATION: VIK'NAR (QUARTER OVERSEER).]
[MOVEMENT: ACCESSED SECURE DATA-TERMINAL IN OVERSEER POST. QUERY: "PERFORMANCE ANOMALY - KAELEN (NULL-TYPE). CROSS-REFERENCE: CELESTIAL PEAK GARDEN ACTIVITY."]
[RESULT: DATA PACKAGED AND TRANSMITTED VIA ENCRYPTED STREAM. DESTINATION: [REDACTED - CLEARANCE INSUFFICIENT].]
Vik'nar wasn't just curious. He was filing reports to someone. Someone with higher clearance than a Quarter Overseer.
A chill that had nothing to do with the cool air ran down Kaelen's spine. He was being watched, analyzed, and reported on. The attention was escalating.
He needed to turn this node into an advantage. He navigated to the station's network settings. The primary connection to the central Versity net was disabled, severed long ago. But there was a secondary option: [ESTABLISH LOCAL, UNREGISTERED NODE-TO-NODE LINK].
It was a peer-to-peer function, meant for technicians to share data between nearby stations without going through the main network. If there were other hidden nodes…
He initiated a search. The console hummed, sending out a low-power ping through the physical conduits.
**SEARCHING...**
**NODE BETA... OFFLINE.**
**NODE GAMMA... OFFLINE.**
**NODE THETA... OFFLINE.**
**...**
**NODE OMICRON... WEAK SIGNAL DETECTED.**
One other node was faintly responsive. According to the schematic, Node Omicron was not in the Null Quarter. The signal path indicated it was in a neighboring district's lower infrastructure… likely the Foundation Vaults, the utilitarian underbelly of the Spire of Thaum.
A potential backdoor into the Mage district's systems.
But the signal was too weak for a stable link through the old conduits. It would need a booster. A signal repeater.
His eyes fell on the banks of crystalline data-storage units. They were outdated, but they contained power regulators and amplification crystals. If he could repurpose one…
His tablet buzzed. A message from Zyx, routed through some incredibly clever glitch in the local environmental controls, appeared as text on his screen.
[PATROL DRONES RE-ROUTING. YOUR BLUR WINDOW CLOSES IN 180 SECONDS. SUGGEST EXTRACTION.]
He was out of time. But he couldn't leave empty-handed.
He used his multi-tool to quickly open the casing of the smallest data-storage unit. Inside, nestled in a cradle of fibrous insulation, was a central processing crystal about the size of his thumb, glowing with a soft blue light, and a network of amplification filaments. He carefully disconnected it, cradling the fragile component in his palm. It was warm and hummed with a low, steady frequency. A perfect candidate for a signal booster once he modified it.
He pocketed the crystal, closed the storage unit casing, and wiped the console of his recent activity. The hatch slid shut behind him as he retreated. He replaced the hexagonal plate, leaving no obvious sign of entry.
He slipped back into the roaring chaos of the waste processing hub and made his way to the main corridor just as a drone floated around the corner, its sensors sweeping. It pinged him once, registered his spoofed "fatigued worker" signature, and moved on.
Back in Berth 42, he placed the stolen amplification crystal on his desk. It glowed softly, casting dancing blue patterns on the grey walls. He had a backdoor now. A hidden room. A piece of forgotten tech. And the unsettling knowledge that his actions were creating ripples that reached into the shadows of the Versity.
The wall fuzzed. Zyx's voice was full of barely contained excitement. "Well? Did you find it?"
"I found it," Kaelen said, looking at the crystal. "And I found out we have more than drones watching us. We have guests with Omega clearance, and Vik'nar is sending reports up the chain."
There was a pause from the other side of the wall. When Zyx spoke again, the digital reverb was tinged with a new, thoughtful seriousness.
"Omega clearance… that's Versity Internal Affairs. Or the Headmaster's personal auditors. They don't look at nulls. Unless the null is part of a larger anomaly." Another pause. "Your file. The corrupted one. They might be trying to fix it. Or understand what it is."
Kaelen stared at the crystal. He was no longer just hiding from overseers. He was potentially hiding from the highest authorities in the Apex Versity itself.
But he also had a crystal that could listen in on the Mage district's foundations, a hidden node for private research, and a glitch-sprite ally.
The game had just leveled up. It was time to stop just fixing lights and start building his own