I forced myself upright, brushing at the caked grime clinging to my skin. Pointless — the dirt wouldn't come off.
Not ten meters away, a house loomed — or what was left of one. Its side was blown wide open, like a rotting wound.
I shivered. That hadn't been there before.
I needed information. I dropped to my knees, palms pressed to the crumbling ground, and closed my eyes.
The code pulsed into my mind — warm, alive, rhythmic.
SYSTEM: Cradle ID — ArchitectSYSTEM: Created by Lizma, Caedra, Kaelith, Tyrix. Date: Unknown.SYSTEM: Status — Unstable.
Unstable. The word scraped my insides raw.
The Architect's Cradle — oldest known, most dangerous. I'd studied it in lessons. Once a legend built by four prodigies. Now, a lawless wasteland.
Before my eyes, the leaves around me rotted to dust. Rotcasters. Rage burned low in my chest.
Rotcasters — runners who'd turned traitor, spreading ruin like infection.
I drew in a sharp breath, forcing calm. Anger dulled your edge — made you miss danger creeping up behind you.
I started toward the broken house, boots crunching brittle debris. I felt it in my bones — this place was no place for someone like me.
Or Vivid.
No telling how many Rotcasters were lurking. I needed shelter. I needed a weapon.
The sun sagged behind the crooked skyline — dusk was coming fast.
Inside the ruin, faint light filtered through the ragged hole in the wall. I stepped inside carefully.
The kitchen was a tomb of stale air and splintered counters. I found a stale loaf of bread, a bowl of something that smelled like rotting circuitry — and a multitool: half pickaxe, half hatchet.
Hope flared in my chest. Wood, shelter, fire — maybe I could survive the night.
I tested the tool's edge. Good enough. Maybe enough to keep the monsters at bay.
My stomach growled so loud it echoed.
HUNGER: CRITICAL.
I forced down the dry bread. It tasted like sand but revived me enough to quiet the warnings. My stats flickered upward.
Outside, the dusk curdled to pitch.
Hope trickled out of me again. I wasn't moving tonight — I'd have to hide and pray nothing found me before dawn.
Then the lesson came back to me — monsters. They hunted by movement, by sound, by the heat of your life.
Stillness. That was all that could save me.
I crossed my legs, sank into the dust, and shut my eyes. I slipped my mind into Cyberspace — careful, so careful, not to drift too far.
I traced the hidden lines, looking for runners, any sign of life.
A few weak traces blinked by — worthless. I found my own thread quickly — a bright cord anchoring me here.
And deeper still, I pushed. Searching for Vivid.
Then I felt it — something old. Watching. Its presence brushed across my mind like cold wires.
SYSTEM: Scan — Runners Within Radius.
A sound snapped my eyes open.
I smelled it before I saw it — rot and static, sharp as acid.
Furry legs slipped over the shattered wall — too many eyes, red as blood. The spider locked its gaze on mine.
I didn't dare blink. My eyes burned. Watered.
It watched me. I watched it.
Spiders didn't blink.
I lost.
My lips parted — a tiny breath.
The thing lunged.
I dove sideways, slammed under a half-crushed table. Wood splintered above me. The spider shrieked — a sound that scraped bone.
Other shapes moved in the dark — feet dragging, soft wet slaps that turned my blood to ice.
So this was it.
Was this what happened to you, Vivid?
Did you even get to scream?
I shut my eyes. Prayed to no one.
Make it quick.
A hairy leg scraped my shoulder.
Then — a roar. Not a monster's screech, but a battle cry. Human.
Something slammed into the spider.
I gasped. Hope, sharp and bright, flared inside me one last time.