They called it The Drop—a sunless pit of Neo-Ilium where abandoned sects, failed implants, and forgotten disciples went to rot. Even the city's auto-police avoided it. Holo-ads flickered like ghosts on cracked walls: "Awaken Your Inner Power™", "Fight For Glory in the Olympus Trials", "Yulan Ascension Protocol—Now Accepting Applicants."
Jian Lin didn't look like much anymore—scarred lip, secondhand armor, and boots held together by adhesive wrap. But under his skin, something new pulsed.
Something stolen.
Something illegal.
He stepped off the back of a supply truck, hood pulled low. His spine itched as the subdermal implant synced to the local chi grid.
> [BOOTING INTERFACE...]
[WELCOME, USER: UNREGISTERED]
[CHI CORE: LEVEL 0 | STATUS: STABLE]
[NO AFFILIATED SECT DETECTED]
"Perfect," he muttered.
No Sect. No protection.
But also—no restrictions.
---
Three days earlier, Jian had stood center stage in the Olympus Trial League. The crowd's roar had been deafening, a thousand chi-streams lighting up the coliseum's dome.
At seventeen, he was the youngest finalist in open-tier league history.
House Yulan had raised him from age twelve—funding the implants, refining his motion, filtering his diet, dictating his sleep. He'd mastered twelve forms, six licensed, three black-market, and one Yulan-exclusive prototype.
Then came the crash.
Mid-fight.
His HUD exploded with warnings.
> [SYSTEM VIOLATION DETECTED – ILLEGAL MOD SIGNATURE FOUND]
[MATCH DISQUALIFIED]
[YULAN CONTRACT VOIDED – DISCIPLE STATUS REVOKED]
[ALL SECT PRIVILEGES REMOVED]
Jian had dropped his guard. His opponent hadn't.
He awoke in the med-bay with a broken jaw and a black mark that locked him out of every style license he'd ever earned.
Framed. Deleted.
Just another burned scroll.
---
Now he was back in the Drop, following a single lead: a rogue style-forger with ties to MicroSects and outlaw graft surgeons.
He ducked through the skeletal remains of a noodle shop and into a back alley. AR graffiti buzzed on the walls: a snarling wolf, a lotus blooming in fire, a monk with too many eyes.
All gang tags.
All warnings.
He reached a steel door hidden behind a false utility panel. No lock. No handle.
Only a retinal scanner rimmed with dried blood.
He leaned in.
The door hissed open.
---
The room inside was thick with heat and the chemical stench of old implants. Light pulsed from floor strips like veins. A woman sat cross-legged on a raised table, her eyes sealed shut by grafted dermal wire. Her arms were a patchwork of ports, scars, and embedded interface sockets.
"You're late," she said.
"You're blind."
"I'm enhanced."
She sniffed. "Yulan-born. The scent of perfection, covered in shame."
Jian didn't rise to it.
"Not anymore."
She smiled. "Good answer."
She rose with a mechanical twitch and swiped her palm through a holographic control field. A menu spun into view.
"Name?"
"Jian Lin."
"Alias?"
He hesitated. The name came without thinking.
"…Stray."
The interface blinked.
> [ALIAS: ACCEPTED]
She nodded. "Fitting."
She pulled a cold injector from the wall—neon blue inside—and jammed it into his neck.
Jian convulsed.
> [WARNING: UNLICENSED STYLE DATA DETECTED]
[INITIALIZING NODE: WHITE NEEDLE FORM v1.0]
[STATUS: DIRTY CODE – COMPATIBILITY: 64%]
[FORCE-SYNC TO CHI CORE...]
His back arched.
His scream echoed off steel.
---
When it was over, Jian collapsed to the floor, breath ragged, skin soaked in sweat.
"What the hell was that?"
"A base layer," she said. "A foundation. Street chi. Not polished. But it'll hold."
He rolled to his side, still shaking.
"What's the price?"
"Everyone pays," she said, walking away. "In blood, or in breath. Or both."
Jian sat up slowly.
His vision blurred, then cleared.
And the world looked… different.
The room vibrated with color. His fingers buzzed with power. Motion had weight again.
His HUD blinked alive.
> [NEW QUEST: RECLAIM YOUR NAME]
[Objective: Locate the source of your implant corruption]
[Reward: Identity Restoration | Sect Clearance | Chi Core Stabilization]
He rose to his feet.
Whatever he had now—it wasn't much.
But it was his.
He walked back into the city, alone.
Burned. Branded.
And finally free enough to fight back.
---