It started with a body drop.
Sector 5.
A supply runner—a teenager, maybe seventeen—fell straight through a glass walkway in broad daylight. No gunfire. No explosion.
Just a static pulse that hit every sensor in a 4-block radius.
Mira picked it up first.
"Unstable Frame burst," she said, scanning her drone feed. "No ID. No registry. Someone tried to activate raw code without a system anchor."
Kael's blood ran cold.
Juno leaned in. "Nullborn?"
"No," Mira said, voice tight. "This one was human."
They reached the crash site fifteen minutes later.
Crowds had already scattered. The city's AI units hadn't touched the body. They were too busy locking down the area.
The runner's Frame was half-formed—fused into his arms and chest, but glitching wildly. His legs were shattered. His skin pulsed between flesh and data.
Still alive.
Still breathing.
Kael stood over him.
"Why'd you do it?" he asked softly.
The runner looked up.
One eye flickering. The other gone.
"I wanted to be like you."
Kael froze.
He looked at the fragments of red plating on the boy's arms.
Torn, mismatched.
Nothing like a real Frame.
Juno knelt beside him. "This isn't a random accident."
Ryke nodded slowly. "Someone gave him that core."
Mira pulled the data from his arm—just enough before it burned itself out.
"His sync wasn't natural," she said. "He didn't bond. He booted the Frame manually."
Kael turned away, jaw tight.
"How many more are going to try?"
Mira answered without looking up.
"All of them. As soon as they find out it's real."
Back at the shelter, Kael stared at the replica data from earlier.
The rogue Frame-builder. The message in the Obelisk chamber. The copy that called him Redeem.
It all connected.
Juno walked up behind him. "What are you thinking?"
Kael looked down at his own Frame core—glowing steady now.
Not angry.
Just awake.
"We're not the only ones syncing anymore."
"We're just the first who survived it."