The alley reeked of stale ale and decay, a stark contrast to the sterile hum of the Bureau. Elias knelt beside the body bag, his stomach churning. The city guards had already left, dismissing the death as a drunken accident. But Elias knew better. He had seen the Naga charm, the symbol of a life dedicated to espionage and illusion. And he had felt the chilling absence in the Ledger, the void where the Naga's karmic signature should have been.
He accessed the Bureau's secure network on his wrist-mounted terminal, pulling up the dead Naga informant's case file. The file was surprisingly thin, almost nonexistent. A routine surveillance assignment, a few lines of basic biographical data, and a final entry: "Case Closed. Subject Deceased." There was no mention of the circumstances surrounding the death, no karmic analysis, no spiritual trace. It was as if the Naga had never existed.
Elias ran a deeper diagnostic, bypassing the standard protocols and accessing the Ledger's core memory. The result was even more disturbing. The Naga's karmic thread, which should have been woven into the fabric of Jadeheart, was severed. Not faded, not diminished, but erased. The Ledger showed no record of his actions, his intentions, his very being in the karmic flow. This was near-impossible.
Only a Rank 6+ cultivator, a master of the Law of Soul with profound access to the Ledger's core architecture, or someone with equally deep access to the Bureau's most restricted systems, could achieve such a feat. It required not just manipulation, but a complete rewriting of the karmic record, a violation of the fundamental laws of reality.
Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through Elias's carefully constructed detachment. Was the Grand Council itself involved? Were they covering something up, silencing a loose end? Or was there another manipulator, someone far more powerful and ruthless than himself, operating within the Bureau, capable of wielding the Ledger like a weapon?
He looked down at the cobblestones, at the faint smear of blood where the Naga had died. This wasn't a game anymore. This was a war. And he was caught in the crossfire.
Back in his cubicle, the hum of the Ledger felt like a suffocating shroud. Elias knew he couldn't continue his work as before. His carefully crafted notes, his meticulously detailed case files, were a liability. If someone was powerful enough to erase a person from the Ledger, they could easily access his private data.
With a heavy heart, he activated the self-destruct sequence on his personal storage unit. The holographic display flickered, then went dark. His notes, his observations, his growing understanding of the Ledger's flaws, were reduced to digital ash. He would have to rely on his memory, on coded messages, on a new, far more cautious approach.
He began drafting a new set of coded Sutra AI logs, using obscure legal jargon and references to ancient philosophical texts to record his findings. He would bury them deep within the Bureau's archival system, accessible only through a complex series of layered access codes. It was a risky solution, but it was the only way to preserve his knowledge without leaving a trail.
As he worked, his hand unconsciously drifted to his pocket, touching the cool, smooth surface of the Karma Lens. It was his only weapon now, his only way to see the truth in a world where reality itself was being rewritten. The game had changed. And Elias Thorne, the quiet, meticulous analyst, was now a player in a deadly, invisible war.