Zak Miller knew something was wrong the moment the report came back incomplete.
Not delayed.
Not classified.
Incomplete.
He stood in the center of his office, hands resting on the edge of a steel desk as screens refreshed again and again. His people worked fast—some of the best money could buy—but speed didn't matter when the data simply wasn't there.
"Run the search again," Zak said, voice level."Full civilian sweep. Global scope."
"Yes, sir."
Keyboards clicked. Servers hummed. Algorithms tore through continents of data.
Minutes passed.
Nothing appeared.
"Name?" Zak asked.
"Leena Johnson," an analyst replied. "And Lussy Johnson. Mother and daughter."
Zak frowned. "That's impossible. Everyone exists somewhere."
The analyst swallowed. "Sir… they don't."
Zak straightened. "Explain."
"There are no birth certificates. No school records. No medical history. No biometrics. No immigration data. No financial footprint." He hesitated, then added quietly, "It's like they were never born."
Zak's jaw tightened.
"No," he said. "People can disappear. Records can be hidden. But this—this is absence."
He gestured sharply. "Try historical backups. Cold archives. Foreign mirrors."
The analysts obeyed.
Again—nothing.
No corrupted entries.No redacted files.No erased trails.
Just clean emptiness.
Zak exhaled slowly.
Someone hadn't deleted Leena Johnson and Lussy Johnson.
Someone had ensured they never existed to begin with.
"That level of erasure," Zak muttered, "isn't defensive."
It was authoritative.
Final.
For the first time in a long while, uncertainty crept into his thoughts—not fear, but something close.
Respect.
Ryan reached the same conclusion from a different angle.
Where Zak relied on power, Ryan relied on patterns.
And patterns were missing.
He sat alone in his workspace, lights dimmed, eyes reflecting lines of code and facial-mapping grids. He replayed the hospital footage again—except the footage no longer existed.
Security logs? Gone.Backup servers? Clean.Third-party cloud archives? Reset.
Ryan frowned.
He traced backward, not from the people—but from the events.
A hospital anomaly.
A sudden medical improvement.
A child rescued at a lake.
All of them ended in blanks.
Ryan typed a single command and let his system simulate probability outcomes.
Result:
Statistical impossibility
He leaned back slowly.
"Two people," he murmured. "Erased so completely that even causality gives up."
Ryan searched for aliases.
Nothing.
False identities?
Nothing.
Even fabricated lives left seams.
These didn't.
Whoever had done this hadn't panicked.
They had been methodical.
Experienced.
And patient.
Ryan stared at the empty results.
"No fingerprints," he said softly."No shadows."
He smiled faintly—but there was no humor in it.
"This wasn't escape."
It was permission.
Neither Zak nor Ryan spoke James's name.
Not because they suspected him.
But because neither of them could see the hand that moved the pieces.
And that was the most unsettling truth of all.
Somewhere beyond reach, beyond databases, beyond even curiosity—
Two people had stepped out of the world.
Not hidden.
Not protected.
Gone.
And the world hadn't even noticed.
High above the clouds, the world looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Leena sat by the window of the military aircraft, her body secured by thick restraints that crossed her chest and waist. The seat was hard, utilitarian, built for soldiers—not comfort. A low, constant hum vibrated through the metal floor and into her bones, steady and relentless, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to her.
Outside, the sky stretched endlessly.
Layer upon layer of clouds rolled beneath the aircraft, glowing softly in shades of gold and pale orange as the sun dipped lower. From this height, the world had lost its shape.
No borders.
No countries.
No names.
Just distance.
She rested her forehead lightly against the cool glass. The faint vibration made the window tremble under her skin. Far below, the earth was shrinking—cities dissolving into dots, roads into faint scars, rivers into thin silver threads.
Everything that had once defined her life was down there.
And it was disappearing.
For the first time since leaving the hospital, the weight of everything finally settled fully in her chest.
Not fear.
Not regret.
Responsibility.
Her mother was safe.
That truth anchored her.
Hidden.
Protected.
Erased from every map that mattered.
No hospital records.
No identity trails.
No digital ghosts.
James had done what he promised.
Leena closed her eyes, exhaling slowly through her nose.
She replayed the moment in her mind—the way James had looked at her when he said nothing more than "It's settled." No explanation. No reassurance. Just certainty.
That was his power.
He didn't convince people.
He decided.
Her fingers curled slightly against the armrest.
She didn't know where this plane was taking her.
She didn't know what waited at the other end.
Only that when she stepped off, there would be no safety net.
No James.
No hospital.
No second chances.
Inside her mind, she reached for the presence that had become as familiar as her own heartbeat.
"System," she whispered.
Ding.
The sound resonated softly, not in her ears, but deep inside her consciousness.
The interface unfolded smoothly before her inner vision, clean and precise, floating in a dark void only she could see. Its presence was calm, neutral—neither ally nor enemy.
SYSTEM ONLINE
Status: StableHost Condition: OptimalLocation: Classified
Leena didn't hesitate.
"Open System Shop."
Ding.
The void shifted.
Panels aligned themselves into clean, glowing categories, arranged with inhuman efficiency.
SYSTEM SHOP — AVAILABLE
ConsumablesWeaponsTechnologySkillsSpecial Items (Locked)
Her gaze lingered briefly on Weapons, then Technology.
She forced herself to look away.
Too soon.
Her focus settled on Skills.
She selected it.
The list expanded instantly, rows of information appearing faster than any human interface could manage.
SYSTEM SHOP — SKILLS
Basic Survival Skill• Wilderness adaptation• Shelter construction• Resource identification• Environmental awarenessCost: 200 SP
Advanced Survival Skill (Locked)
Basic Firearms Proficiency• Handguns• Rifles• Submachine guns• Weapon maintenanceCost: 200 SP
Advanced Firearms Mastery (Locked)
Close Combat Enhancement (Owned)
At the corner of her vision, her remaining resources glowed faintly.
System Points: 2500
Leena leaned back slightly in her seat.
James's words echoed in her mind.
One little mistake can cost your life.
This wasn't a warning.
It was a rule.
Wherever she was going, strength alone wouldn't be enough. Physical power had limits. Reflexes failed. Muscles tired.
But knowledge—
Knowledge stacked.
Knowledge survived.
She needed instincts sharpened beyond human normal.
She needed awareness when her eyes failed.
She needed the ability to stay alive when no one was coming to save her.
Her choice was clear.
"Purchase Basic Survival Skill," she said calmly.
Ding.
Skill acquired: Basic SurvivalSystem Points remaining: 2300
The change was immediate.
Not pain.
Not pressure.
But immersion.
Her mind flooded with sensation.
The smell of rain before a storm.
The subtle difference between edible berries and poison.
The way insects avoided certain plants.
How shadows shifted at different times of day.
How to read wind patterns through the movement of leaves.
Her muscles remembered things she had never learned.
Hands tying knots she had never practiced.
Eyes scanning terrain automatically.
Ears filtering useful sound from meaningless noise.
Her breathing steadied as the knowledge settled—not as information, but as instinct.
She swallowed slowly.
This wasn't learning.
This was rewriting.
Next—
"Purchase Basic Firearms Proficiency."
Ding.
Skill acquired: Basic Firearms ProficiencySystem Points remaining: 2100
This time, the sensation was sharper.
Heavier.
Her shoulders tensed as muscle memory downloaded itself into her nervous system.
Weight distribution.
Grip angles.
Trigger discipline.
Recoil absorption.
Weapon maintenance under pressure.
Clearing malfunctions blindfolded.
Her fingers twitched slightly as if holding something invisible.
Images flashed—
Hands moving without hesitation.
Targets aligning instinctively.
Breathing syncing perfectly with a trigger pull.
Metal clicking apart and coming back together in seconds.
Not aggression.
Control.
When it ended, Leena opened her eyes slowly.
Nothing around her had changed.
The aircraft still hummed steadily.
Soldiers in black tactical gear still sat silently along the opposite wall, faces hidden behind masks and helmets.
Red indicator lights pulsed faintly overhead.
The sky still stretched endlessly beyond the window.
But she had changed.
She flexed her fingers once.
There was no strain.
No excess movement.
Just precision.
Prepared.
Not reckless.
Not arrogant.
Ready.
Leena leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes again, allowing the rhythm of the flight to carry her forward.
She didn't know how long the journey would take.
Hours.
Days.
It didn't matter.
Time was no longer something that happened to her.
It was something she would use.
Wherever James was sending her—
She would survive.
And when two years passed…
She wouldn't return as a victim.
She wouldn't return as someone hiding.
She would return as someone the world could no longer erase.