Chapter Five
The room was quiet. Peaceful. Dark.
Aiden slept like someone who had spent the day fighting for his life, getting clawed by an unidentified nightmare, gaining several levels, and discovering his Support had no concept of appropriate student-faculty boundaries.
Brittany, meanwhile?
Wide.
Fucking.
Awake.
She lay across the desk beside his bed.
At least he'd put her somewhere respectable this time.
Apparently nearly dying together had upgraded her from discarded on the floor to placed carefully on furniture.
Growth.
Brittany stared into darkness.
She didn't have eyes.
That continued to be weird.
She didn't technically see the room so much as remain vaguely aware of it through whatever connection persisted between herself and Aiden while he slept.
She also didn't have eyelids.
Or lungs.
Or a heartbeat.
Or any apparent biological mechanism for becoming unconscious.
Which presented a problem Brittany hadn't considered when she'd been promised a glorious magical reincarnation.
"How the fuck do I sleep?"
Aiden snored.
Brittany waited.
Nothing.
"Cool."
More snoring.
"Excellent."
Apparently death had cured her need for sleep by replacing it with the inability to sleep.
She'd always wanted more hours in the day.
This felt spiteful.
Brittany stared at the ceiling.
Or perceived the ceiling.
Whatever.
She tried counting.
Made it to forty-three.
Tried remembering song lyrics.
Got halfway through one and couldn't remember the second verse.
Tried remembering her first husband's middle name.
Nothing.
Second husband's birthday.
March?
No.
August?
Who cared.
Denise's employee identification number.
Brittany stopped.
"Oh, fuck you."
Aiden rolled over.
Brittany returned to staring at the ceiling.
She lasted another thirty seconds.
Then yesterday crawled back into her thoughts.
The creature.
Found you.
Dead thing.
You're awake.
Brittany's runes flickered faintly.
No.
Absolutely not.
She had spent seven years in management.
She knew what happened when you ignored a problem because nobody wanted to deal with it.
It became your problem.
Usually on Friday at 4:47 p.m.
That thing hadn't been a plague rat.
It hadn't been part of Aiden's assessment.
And whatever System nonsense lived inside Brittany had recognized something about it.
LEGACY SIGNATURE DETECTED
EXTERNAL QUERY DETECTED
SOURCE AUTHORIZATION: INVALID
Then afterward:
ANOMALOUS CONTACT: SUPPRESSED
She didn't know what any of that meant.
She intended to find out.
"Knowledge is power."
Aiden snored.
"And apparently I have nothing but time."
Brittany focused inward.
Her interface opened.
SUPPORT INTERFACE
USER STATUS
SKILLS
ATTRIBUTES
BOND
OBJECTIVES
SUPPORT FUNCTIONS
She selected the last one.
More options unfolded.
MANIFESTATION
COMMUNICATION
COMBAT ASSISTANCE
SYSTEM ACCESS
W.A.R.D.E.N.
Brittany stopped.
That hadn't been there before.
Or maybe it had been locked.
She selected it.
Nothing happened.
Then:
W.A.R.D.E.N. ACCESS AVAILABLE
ACTIVATE EXTENSION?
Brittany stared.
"That acronym better be good."
She accepted.
The interface expanded.
Windows unfolded around her awareness.
Directories.
Search fields.
Indexes.
Threat classifications.
Public Academy records.
Support documentation.
Field reports.
Message boards.
Brittany went very still.
Then—
"Oh my God."
Aiden shifted.
She lowered her voice instinctively despite communicating directly through their bond.
"There's a fucking sword internet."
A line appeared.
W.A.R.D.E.N.
Weapon-Assisted Registry for Defense, Evaluation, and Networking
Brittany considered it.
"Blade Internet."
The System did not object.
Therefore, Blade Internet.
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Brittany immediately searched for the creature.
Or tried to.
She didn't have a name.
Tall fucked-up stitched-mouth thing returned zero results.
Rude.
She tried the location of Aiden's assessment.
That worked.
A field report appeared.
INCIDENT RECORD
ZONE: Academy Assessment Sector 3
EXPECTED THREAT: F–D
RECORDED THREAT: UNRESOLVED
ENTITY CLASSIFICATION: PENDING
STATUS: CLOSED
Brittany stared.
"Closed?"
She opened the report.
Most of it was exactly what she expected.
Three plague rats.
One unexpected hostile entity.
One injured student.
One damaged Support manifestation.
One emergency extraction request—
Brittany stopped.
"What emergency extraction request?"
Nobody had come.
Bell hadn't entered the zone.
Aiden had killed the thing himself.
She selected the entry.
ACCESS RESTRICTED
Of course.
Brittany tried another field.
ACCESS RESTRICTED
Another.
ACCESS RESTRICTED
"Oh, I hate you."
She searched the entity classification.
Nothing.
Searched the phrase legacy signature.
Nothing.
External query.
Nothing.
Source authorization.
Nothing.
Every search returned the same response.
NO PUBLIC RECORDS FOUND
That was worse.
Brittany backed out.
A threat classification directory sat nearby.
Fine.
If she couldn't learn what the thing was, she could at least learn how catastrophically underqualified Aiden had been to fight it.
She opened the scale.
ACADEMY THREAT CLASSIFICATION
F - MINIMAL
Brittany considered it.
"Weak-ass bitch."
E - LOW
"Weak bitch."
D - MODERATE
"Bitch."
C - SIGNIFICANT
Brittany paused.
"Hmm."
B - SEVERE
"Oh shit."
A - EXTREME
"Death."
S - CATASTROPHIC
Brittany stared.
"Instant death."
Then:
SS - EXISTENTIAL
She went quiet.
The description beneath it was considerably less funny.
Threat capable of mass casualty events, systemic destabilization, or permanent regional loss. Direct engagement prohibited without authorization.
Brittany read it twice.
"Instant death with total annihilation."
That sounded better.
Mostly because it sounded less real.
She searched Aiden's creature again.
THREAT CLASSIFICATION: UNRESOLVED
"Useless."
Then she noticed something else.
A tiny icon at the edge of the interface.
Messages.
Brittany opened it.
And discovered chaos.
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There were hundreds of threads.
Thousands.
Supports complaining about Users.
Users complaining about Supports.
Training advice.
Combat strategies.
Manifestation questions.
An entire discussion titled:
MY USER KEEPS THROWING ME. ADVICE?
Brittany opened that immediately.
Twenty-seven replies.
The first:
Have you tried asking them to stop?
Second:
Mine threw me off a cliff last year. They don't learn.
Third:
Increase feedback sensitivity until dropping you hurts.
Brittany paused.
"Saved."
She backed out.
Another thread:
USER WON'T CLEAN MANIFESTATION PROPERLY
Saved.
IS IT NORMAL TO FEEL USER DIGESTION THROUGH HIGH SYNCHRONIZATION?
Absolutely fucking not.
Closed.
HUMAN MANIFESTATION - TROUBLESHOOTING
Brittany's attention caught.
She selected it.
ACCESS REQUIREMENT NOT MET
Her runes flickered.
"What?"
She tried again.
ACCESS REQUIREMENT NOT MET
Brittany stared at the words.
Then slowly backed out.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She searched human manifestation.
Results appeared.
Most were locked.
A few public entries discussed advanced Support development, but the previews were frustratingly vague.
Physical autonomy may become available following
Locked.
Manifestation permissions vary according to
Locked.
Support embodiment requires sufficient
Locked.
Brittany vibrated on the desk.
"I fucking hate paywalls."
No payment prompt existed.
That somehow made it worse.
She returned to the main feed.
A new thread had appeared near the top.
ANYONE ELSE FEEL THAT SYSTEM PULSE YESTERDAY?
Brittany opened it.
The replies were recent.
Yeah. Thought my User leveled but it wasn't ours.
Academy network hiccup. Ignore it.
That wasn't a hiccup.
Something triggered a legacy handshake.
Brittany stopped.
Legacy.
She read on.
You don't know that.
I know what my logs said.
Mine deleted itself afterward.
Same.
Mods are already removing posts.
Brittany scrolled faster.
Was it Sector 3?
The next reply had been deleted.
Then another.
[CONTENT REMOVED]
Another.
[CONTENT REMOVED]
Brittany's runes began to glow.
Aiden shifted in his sleep.
"Stop..."
Brittany froze.
Aiden rolled onto his side.
"...don't call her good girl again."
Silence.
Brittany stared at him.
Then, despite everything, amusement flickered through her.
"You're so lucky you're cute."
Aiden snored.
She returned to the thread.
It was gone.
Not closed.
Gone.
Brittany searched the title.
Nothing.
Searched legacy handshake.
NO PUBLIC RECORDS FOUND
"Well, that's not suspicious at fucking all."
Then a notification appeared.
NEW DIRECT MESSAGE
Brittany stopped.
She hadn't posted.
Hadn't commented.
Hadn't introduced herself.
Slowly, she opened it.
SENDER: UNKNOWN
No profile.
No Support designation.
No User.
Just one message.
You shouldn't be able to access this network.
Brittany stared.
Another message appeared.
How did you get in?
She considered answering.
Didn't.
A third arrived.
Who is your User?
Her runes dimmed.
Nope.
She closed the conversation.
Immediately another notification appeared.
NEW DIRECT MESSAGE
Same sender.
Brittany ignored it.
Another.
Then another.
NEW DIRECT MESSAGE
NEW DIRECT MESSAGE
NEW DIRECT MESSAGE
"Jesus Christ. Take a hint."
She opened the thread.
One final message waited.
I found you.
Brittany went still.
The words from the creature returned immediately.
Found you.
Her interface flickered.
For half a second, the entire W.A.R.D.E.N. network vanished.
Something else appeared beneath it.
Black.
Empty.
One line of text.
SESSION IDENTIFIER: 07A
Brittany stared.
"What the fuck is 07A?"
The screen disappeared.
W.A.R.D.E.N. returned.
Normal.
Bright.
Busy.
A new notification appeared.
SESSION ERROR
PLEASE RECONNECT
Brittany didn't.
She shut the entire interface down.
Darkness returned.
The room was quiet again.
Aiden slept.
Brittany lay motionless on the desk.
07A.
It meant nothing.
Probably.
Some technical identifier.
A session number.
Server.
Account.
Whatever magical Systems used.
She was not going to invent conspiracy theories at two in the morning.
She was thirty-five years old.
She was rational.
She was mature.
She was...
Aiden snorted in his sleep.
Brittany stared into the darkness.
"...We're absolutely investigating this tomorrow."
Aiden continued sleeping.
Then, somewhere deep inside Brittany's awareness, something chimed.
Not W.A.R.D.E.N.
Not Aiden's System.
Something else.
One notification appeared.
EXTERNAL CONNECTION CLOSED
Beneath it:
WELCOME BACK, 07A.
Brittany didn't move.
For the first time since she'd discovered she apparently couldn't sleep. She wished she could.
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