A wave of exhaustion crashed over me the moment I shut the door behind me. The hum of the classroom still lingered, sharp and grating, like a mosquito buzzing incessantly just out of reach.
My shoulders sagged, muscles taut from hours of sitting in stiff, unyielding chairs, and my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, the remnants of droning voices swirling in an endless loop.
The instructor's voice had droned on endlessly, reciting line after line of Talent Bureau protocols as if reading from an ancient, cursed script. The holoscreen behind him flickered occasionally, projecting diagrams and charts that blurred together in a haze of sterile blues and grays.
Around me, classmates shifted restlessly, their faces masks of feigned interest or outright boredom. The faint hum of the holo-display, combined with the instructor's monotone delivery, was a lullaby in the worst possible way—it dulled the senses and left my mind wandering to anything but the topic at hand.
And the lesson on "Talent Bureau Protocols"?
Not even a faint recollection.
I couldn't care less.
I tossed my bag onto the floor and collapsed onto my bed, the springs creaking softly beneath me. The ceiling above was a plain, unyielding white, dotted with faint shadows from the dim glow of my tablet.
It felt oppressive in its emptiness, a blank canvas that refused to offer answers. The bed's fabric was coarse against my skin, and the lingering tension in my shoulders barely eased as I sank deeper into the mattress.
What if I was more than GAIA let on?
Could I trust anything it showed me?
Images of my so-called stats flickered in my mind, twisting into jagged doubts.
What if the EX rank was a lie? Or worse, what if it wasn't?
The questions piled on, crashing over each other in a relentless loop: What could I actually do? Why hide it? And how long before I crossed a line I couldn't come back from?
What was I really capable of? Why did GAIA keep everything under wraps?
And most pressing of all—what the hell was I supposed to do in a world where I wasn't even sure what was real anymore?
I let the silence wash over me, focusing on the steady beat of my heart to ground myself.
Slowly, I sat up, grabbing the thin, sleek tablet from my desk. The weight of the world seemed to press down on me, but first things first—school assignments.
They wouldn't do themselves, and even though the last thing I felt like doing was more mind-numbing work, I needed the distraction. My thoughts kept drifting back to my abilities.
My future.
My place in this world.
The tablet came to life with a soft flicker, its holographic interface casting a sterile blue glow across my room. The light felt cold and impersonal, washing over the walls and furniture like an indifferent observer.
It reminded me of GAIA itself—efficient, calculated, and utterly devoid of warmth—turning my room into something alien, a space that no longer felt like mine.
I hated this thing.
The tablet's surface was unnaturally smooth, its edges too precise, like it had been sculpted by a machine that didn't understand the concept of imperfection.
It felt like everything else in this world—polished to a sterile fault, devoid of any soul or humanity. So clean, so… perfect, it made my skin crawl. It felt wrong.
Like everything was polished to a fault, too controlled to feel like anything human.
I swiped through my assignment, the screen flashing with rows of meaningless numbers and bullet points. Analyzing population density in urban zones. Yeah, that seemed useful.
I barely registered it. My mind was already elsewhere—drifting back to what I really wanted to understand.
Technomancer.
The term echoed in my mind, an enigma wrapped in a mystery. It wasn't just some class. It wasn't a job or a title. It was a key. It was power.
But it felt... foreign.
I wasn't sure whether to feel exhilarated or trapped. It was technology, yes—but it was also something else. Something... almost mystical.
I'd been through enough in my previous life to know power when I saw it, and this wasn't ordinary.
But strength—that was something I could measure, something I could work for. The luck stat, on the other hand?
That felt like a cruel joke.
Luck had never been on my side. Not in this life, and certainly not in my last. Whether it was my failures in school, my inability to connect with others, or the fact that I'd been assassinated by a shadowy figure with no warning—bad luck seemed to follow me wherever I went.
Sighing, I pushed the tablet aside, my fingers itching for something else. Something real.
I didn't want to deal with assignments right now. I needed answers. Real answers.
********
Sliding my hands into my pockets, I leaned against the wall.
A faint, electric buzz tickled the edge of my hearing as my HUD activated, the familiar pulse of blue light shimmering in the air like a ghostly heartbeat. The soft hum reverberated through my fingertips, a tactile reminder of the system's ever-present grip on my reality.
I hesitated for a moment, scanning the surrounding area.
No drones, no suspicious heat signatures.
Still, I knew better than to trust appearances.
"Codebreaker Mode," I whispered, the words barely leaving my lips.
The shift was immediate.
The world around me fractured, pixelated edges bleeding into one another as the overlay activated. Lines of code danced across my vision, cascading in luminous streams of green and gold, each fragment alive with purpose.
The physical world dissolved, replaced by a pulsating digital tapestry where pathways glowed like veins of molten light and encrypted barriers shimmered ominously, their jagged edges bristling with hostile intent.
It felt like standing in the middle of a living, breathing system, the air thick with a charged hum that prickled against my skin.
GAIA's systems were everywhere, tangled and intricate like a spider's web.
I reached out instinctively, my fingers brushing the air. The menus unfolded before me, raw data laid bare, each option waiting for a command. The rush was exhilarating, like stepping into a forgotten part of myself—a part that didn't belong in this world but thrived within its cracks.
"Alright," I muttered, scrolling through the layers of data. "Let's see what's under the hood."
The first firewall appeared, glowing a faint red. Standard encryption, predictable. GAIA didn't waste top-tier security on low-priority areas. I flexed my fingers, the Hacker talent kicking in as the barriers unraveled with a satisfying ripple. One down.
"Nice," I murmured, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Still got it."
The second layer was trickier. The code shifted, adaptive and aggressive, as though it could sense my intrusion. I paused, tilting my head as I studied it. This wasn't just a wall—it was a trap. An alert system embedded within the encryption, designed to flag anomalies.
GAIA was learning.
"Cute," I muttered, the smirk fading as I adjusted my approach. "Let's see how smart you really are."
I rewrote the script, bypassing the trigger points with precision, my mind working faster than my fingers. The code bent under my will, each keystroke a calculated move in a game only I knew how to play. And then, with one final command, the layer collapsed, the alert system neutralized.
My smirk faltered, the rush of triumph draining as a cold knot twisted in my stomach. The HUD's glow dimmed slightly, and then a sharp, unrelenting notification blinked into view, its edges pulsing like a warning siren:
[Warning: Unauthorized Activity Detected. Response Time: 60 Seconds.]
My heart skipped, the adrenaline surging as I pulled back from the interface. The overlay flickered, the pixelated world giving way to reality as I deactivated Codebreaker Mode. The static lingered, faint but persistent, like a low buzz at the edge of my senses.
"Dammit," I hissed under my breath. That was too close. I'd underestimated GAIA's response time. It was faster than I thought, more precise. I couldn't afford to make that mistake again.
The alley felt smaller now, the shadows darker. My sanctuary wasn't safe anymore. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, my gaze darting to the sky. No drones yet, but I knew they wouldn't be far behind.
"You're slipping, Adler," I muttered, pushing off the wall and heading back toward the main street. The crowd would be my cover, a sea of faces and datapoints for GAIA to sort through. I just had to blend in, stay invisible. A D-rank nobody. That's all I was.
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.
As I merged with the crowd, my HUD flashed with a new notification. This one wasn't from GAIA. The black-and-green interface of Codebreaker flickered to life, the text sharp and deliberate:
[GAIA System Monitoring Activating...]
[System Activated.]
[Detecting active surveillance from GAIA…]
[ALERT. They Are Watching.]
A chill ran down my spine, my breath catching as the message dissolved into nothingness. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the ambient noise of the crowd.
Questions swirled in my head, sharp and unrelenting, each one clawing for dominance over the rising sense of dread.
Who was "they"?
I clenched my fists, my pace quickening as I weaved through the throng of pedestrians. GAIA wasn't the only one watching. And whatever else was out there, I had a feeling it wasn't playing by the system's rules.
Neither was I.