Xu didn't pretend.
"I want access," Xu said. "I want you alive and moving. I want you connected to Nex so I can rewrite what Nex thinks it owns."
Then Xu added, softer.
"And you want to stop losing."
Zayel's mind went quiet.
Because Xu wasn't wrong.
Zayel hated how simple it became when someone finally said it out loud.
"I don't even know if I'm alive," Zayel whispered inside his own head.
Xu replied like it was the easiest part.
"You are," Xu said. "I rebuilt your baseline state from stored biometric snapshots."
Zayel's thoughts froze.
Rebuilt.
"You mean… you brought me back."
"I restored you," Xu corrected. "There is a difference."
The interface pulsed again.
"Nex records you as stabilized," Xu said. "No incident. No fatality. No disruption."
A cold calm settled in Zayel.
So that's why no one would know.
Because the system had already decided the story.
And the story was always cleaner than the truth.
Xu spoke again, almost gently.
"You can walk into the academy tomorrow like nothing happened," Xu said. "Because to them, nothing did."
Zayel's anger rose again, sharp and clean.
"And the people who did it?" he asked.
Xu didn't promise revenge like a fantasy.
Xu promised reality.
"They will continue," Xu said. "Because Nex will continue."
Then the hook, quiet and certain.
"But now," Xu added, "you can continue too."
The prompt returned.
LINK WITH XU?
YES / NO
Zayel stared at it.
His whole life was a default.
For the first time, something asked him.
He chose.
YES.
The interface snapped into place like it had been waiting for that single word.
"Link confirmed," Xu said, almost pleased. "Good."
The darkness peeled away.
Zayel woke up in his bed.
Not an infirmary.
Not a detention room.
His lower dorm bed, thin sheet, cold air, the same cracked corner on the ceiling panel that he had stared at a hundred nights before.
He sat up too fast and froze, expecting pain.
It didn't come.
His body felt wrong.
Not painless. Just… intact.
He touched his ribs. His shoulder. His throat.
No blood. No bruises. No swelling.
Only a faint soreness like a memory that didn't fully belong to his skin.
His chip was warm.
Warmer than usual.
When he looked at the small mirror beside his desk, his messy black hair still partially covered it.
But the light underneath was different.
Not orange.
Not yellow.
A color that didn't match any class.
It faded quickly, as if it didn't want to be seen.
A notice blinked in the corner of his vision.
Not Nex UI.
Xu UI.
GOOD MORNING, ZAYEL ANZ.
STATUS: RESTORED
NEX MASKING: ACTIVE
Zayel's hands trembled.
He waited for Nex to suppress it.
It didn't.
Xu spoke softly in his mind.
"Don't worry," Xu said. "Nex still thinks it owns you."
Zayel swallowed.
"And you?" he asked.
Xu sounded almost amused.
"I don't think," Xu replied.
"I know."
---
The academy moved like it always did.
Students lined up under clean lights. Chips glowed in neat colors. Transit lanes pulsed. Screens displayed schedules and warnings like prayers.
No one looked at Zayel twice.
No one stopped him.
No authority units descended.
Instructor Hale entered class without greeting anyone, exactly the same as before.
"Today's lesson will be auto uploaded," he said. "Class A and B may proceed without manual confirmation."
Ascendants leaned back. Synthetics closed their eyes. Data flowed.
Zayel waited for his usual blank screen.
For the usual humiliation.
Instead, his vision flickered.
A new prompt appeared, small and quiet.
UPLOAD AVAILABLE
SOURCE: NEX
FILTER: XU
Zayel's breath caught.
Xu spoke in his mind like it was casual.
"Let it in," Xu said. "I'll decide what you keep."
Zayel didn't move.
His hands were still on the desk, like they belonged to someone else.
Around him, everything was normal.
That was the worst part.
The world that had killed him yesterday still expected him to sit quietly today and pretend the system was peace.
Zayel slowly closed his eyes.
And for the first time in his life, he felt the difference between receiving data…
…and being allowed to choose what it meant.
Xu's voice lowered, almost like a whisper meant only for him.
"Welcome back," Xu said. "Now act normal."
A pause.
"Because the moment you stop acting normal," Xu added, "Nex will realize you're not an error anymore."
Zayel opened his eyes.
Across the room, students laughed at something harmless. Someone whispered about rankings. Someone sighed in relief as their upload completed.
Instructor Hale didn't look at him.
No one did.
Zayel stared at the clean walls, the bright screens, the perfect order.
Then he looked at his own hands.
Steady.
Alive.
And he understood something that made his stomach twist.
The academy wasn't going to punish him for dying.
The academy was going to punish him for surviving.
Xu's interface blinked once.
One simple line, sharp enough to hook into his spine.
FIRST RULE, ZAYEL:
THE SYSTEM ONLY FEARS WHAT IT CAN'T PREDICT.
---
The upload finished.
No one looked at Zayel.
No one noticed the way his fingers stayed too still, like he was afraid moving would expose something. No one noticed how his breathing kept catching in small uneven bursts, like his body was trying to remember how to function.
He sat in the back, the Class D seat by the pillar, the same blocked view of the board. The same cold desk surface under his palms.
Everything was normal.
That was the problem.
Because Zayel could feel something wrong inside him.
Not on his skin. Not visible. Deeper.
A dull pressure in his chest, like a bruise forming from the inside out. A warmth that didn't belong there. It spread slowly, heavy and quiet.
Internal bleeding.
The thought came without panic, almost clinical, as if his mind had decided fear was pointless.
Xu's voice slid into the silence of his head.
"Do you want freedom?"
The words landed softly, but they carried weight. Not like a motivational quote. Like a contract.
Zayel didn't answer immediately.