Rain tapped gently on the rusted awning above Raen's makeshift shelter. Morning in the Fringe Sector came not with light, but with a thinning of shadows. No sun pierced through the layered concrete, glass, and steel—only diluted brightness filtered by smog and technology.
Raen sat cross-legged beneath the overhang, eyes fixed on the obsidian egg in front of him.
It no longer pulsed.
It breathed.
Slow, rhythmic pulses of mist exhaled from its cracked shell and dissolved into the air, vanishing as though consumed by an invisible force. He didn't know if it was alive in the traditional sense, but it felt like it listened. Every time he looked away, it changed. Shifted slightly. Never enough to catch in the moment, but always different when he returned his gaze.
It wasn't just sleeping.
It was waiting.
---
Raen's breath caught as the Codex UI shimmered faintly before his eyes. Unlike the common grid-bound interfaces he'd seen used by others—projected from smart lenses or neural taps—his system wasn't hardware-dependent. It responded directly to intent.
He focused.
> [Ascendant Codex - Interface Booted]
User: Raen Virell
Gene Classification: UNKNOWN (Legacy: Primordial Thread)
Coreline: Voidbeast [Stage 1 – Unhatched Form]
Codex Status: Bound (Irregular)
[Current Stats]
Strength: 6
Agility: 8
Endurance: 7
Perception: 11
Willpower: 14
Aether Resonance: 0
Genetic Sync: 3.2%
Mutation Factor: Active [Low Stability]
Traits:
Shadow Respiration (Basic)
Neural Echo Perception (Dormant)
Codex Tier: [Prototype]
System Compatibility: Rejected by Central Network Grid
Warning: You exist outside the Codified Genetic Order. Expect anomaly monitoring.
The numbers meant little yet. But what caught his attention was the Mutation Factor.
It pulsed irregularly.
> "Mutation isn't just alteration," Raen muttered, brows furrowed. "It's deviation. From everything."
The others in the Awakening Hall were bound to clean bloodlines—optimized traits filtered over centuries. He had nothing. No lineage. No compatibility.
And yet… he felt stronger.
Not physically, but aware—like his thoughts moved more efficiently. Like the shadows no longer ignored him.
---
His stomach growled.
No system-subsidized rations. No credits. Even slum-tier nutrient packs required a baseline citizen score—his had been voided after the null reading.
He stood, slinging the egg into the makeshift sling of cloth he'd torn from an old tarp. Despite its size, it was nearly weightless. As if it carried potential, not mass.
The rain had thinned. Time to move.
---
Fringe Sector – Subzone B12: The Scrap Spine
The Fringe wasn't a place—it was a fracture. A broken mosaic of failed infrastructure and deregulated zones, patched together by gangs, guilds, and forgotten AI routines. Beneath Sector 9's shining towers, this was where anomalies were quietly erased.
Raen ducked into a narrow corridor between half-collapsed commerce stalls. The AI vendors had long since shut down. No holo-signs. No auto-welcome messages. Only cold stone, static, and silence.
He moved fast, avoiding eyes.
The Codex pinged silently again—this time not from within, but around him.
> [Local Entities Detected]
Three Grid-Aligned Users
One Beast-Bonded Host (Bronze Tier)
One Combat Drone (Outdated Model)
Status: Neutral/Unknown
Recommendation: Avoid Direct Conflict
Raen exhaled slowly. He didn't know how the Codex could sense this—it felt like sonar woven into his nerves—but it worked. The moment he felt the presence, the UI confirmed it. Some part of his mutation had rewired how he interfaced with the world.
He slipped around a junction and into a lower tunnel.
Here, graffiti adorned the walls—some old gang markings, others far stranger: eyes drawn in repeating spirals, numbers carved in impossible sequences, beast symbols that had long gone extinct.
Then he heard it.
A soft metallic scrape.
He froze. Behind him.
Footsteps.
Not heavy. Not rushing.
Stalking.
---
He turned slowly, one hand sliding to the sling on his back.
They appeared from the mist: two young men, both wearing dark jackets embedded with red hex-patches. Gene-level thugs. Likely enforcers from one of the minor Fringe guilds. One of them had a low-grade eye implant; the other had visible beast tattoos etched into his throat.
They didn't speak at first. Just studied him.
Then the taller one stepped forward.
"Well, well. You smell… strange."
Raen said nothing.
The man continued. "You're off-grid, yeah? Not tagged. No core trace. You're not from B12."
The other one sneered. "Smuggling? Or you some failed Tier trying to play ghost?"
Raen's eyes narrowed.
The Codex flickered.
> [Threat Level: Low – Recommendation: Evade or Dismantle]
Dismantle?
He didn't even know how to fight yet.
The taller man raised a hand.
"Hand over your bag."
Raen's gaze flicked to the sling. The egg. Something inside twitched—no, coiled.
"I don't think you want to touch this," he said evenly.
The man laughed. "Listen to this one."
He reached out—
Raen moved.
Not by instinct.
By design.
His hand lashed upward, knocking the man's wrist away, then pivoted his body sideways. The motion felt like memory—etched in his bones, not taught.
A beat later, he'd grabbed the guy's forearm and twisted sharply.
Snap.
The man screamed as his arm bent backward at an unnatural angle.
The second thug moved—pulling a shock baton.
Raen stepped inside the swing, ducked low, and breathed.
Shadow Respiration activated.
The thug's eyes lost focus. For a moment, Raen's presence disappeared—not vanished physically, but blurred at a cognitive level. He twisted, drove an elbow into the man's gut, and swept his legs.
Both men collapsed.
Raen stood over them, panting.
What the hell was that?
> [Trait Activation Confirmed]
Shadow Respiration (Basic): Successfully disrupted target perception
Instinctive Combat Response: Synaptic Flex Adaptation triggered
Mutation Factor: Increased to
3.7%
The egg pulsed faintly in its sling.
Raen's hand gripped the edge of the cloth.
Something had changed.
Not just in the Codex, not just in his body.
But in the way the world responded to him.
---
The thugs lay groaning behind him. One clutched a twisted arm, the other curled around his gut. They wouldn't be getting up soon.
Raen didn't linger.
He slipped through the junction like shadow drawn into a crack, boots silent against the fractured concrete. He didn't know exactly where he was going, only that his instincts—enhanced by the Codex, perhaps—tugged him deeper into the spine of the Fringe.
The Codex flickered again.
> [Neural Heat Map Updated]
Local Awareness Levels:
38% elevated near last known position
5% elevated in Sector B14
Recommended Path: [Eastern Drains → Collapsed Rail Tunnel]
Risk Assessment: Reduced
He didn't fully understand the Codex's sensory map system, but it worked. It read the world like a living thing, predicting attention, aggression, even danger based on invisible metrics.
Raen's body still ached from the earlier feedback surge. The fusion with the egg wasn't stable—it hadn't hatched, but it had changed him.
He touched the sling again.
The egg felt colder now. Not weaker. Just...dormant.
Sleeping.
Waiting for him to grow.
---
The collapsed rail tunnel was buried under old signs and shattered magnetic tracks. He squeezed through a rusted service gate and dropped into the shadowy underbelly of Sector 9. His boots landed with a soft squelch in algae-coated muck. The air was humid. Heavy. The faint hum of abandoned power cores echoed like dying beacons.
But he wasn't alone.
The moment he stood, he felt it.
Eyes.
Raen turned slowly.
A girl sat on a bent pipe twenty meters away, one leg swinging casually. She wore a patched black coat too big for her frame and a tattered scarf stained with old blood. Her hair was jet-black, cropped unevenly, and her left eye glowed faint blue—a sign of embedded perception tech. But it wasn't active.
She studied him with her real eye.
Then spoke.
"You move like you've been hunted before."
Raen froze.
"…Who are you?"
She tilted her head. "I could ask you the same. Off-grid kid. Prototype Codex. Fractured heatprint. And you're carrying something that shouldn't exist."
She saw through him—no, she read him. The way his posture shifted. The shadows that clung to him unnaturally. Even the faint shimmer of Codex threads dancing around his body.
"You're not tagged," she added, voice thoughtful. "And yet, you're alive. That means you either stole a Voidline Relic...or it chose you."
Raen's pulse quickened.
"Who are you?"
The girl smiled faintly.
"No one important. Not yet."
A soft beep echoed from her collar. Her expression darkened.
"They're looking for you. Not those thugs from before—real ones. Codex Hunters. Ghostwalkers."
Raen's blood chilled.
He had no idea what those were, but the tone in her voice didn't leave room for misinterpretation.
"You've got two choices," she said. "Run blind until they catch you. Or follow me."
Raen hesitated. Then asked the only question that mattered.
"Why help me?"
Her gaze sharpened.
"Because the last time I ignored someone like you… a whole district died."
---
She led him through a maze of old tech ruins. They passed through locked nodes, scavenger checkpoints, even a crumbling vault door that should've been inaccessible. She bypassed each with quiet confidence—hacked panels, disabled traps, used old retinal overrides that hadn't been active for years.
Raen watched every movement.
This girl wasn't just surviving. She belonged here.
Eventually, they reached a sealed chamber buried beneath a transport line. It had once been a tech lab—now, its walls were plastered with maps, threadlines, and stat-grids rendered on flickering holo-panels.
The girl snapped her fingers.
Lights flared to life, revealing two more figures—a tall man with dreadlocked silver hair and a woman wrapped in full-body synth mesh, her eyes covered by a band of sensor fabric.
They looked up as Raen entered.
The man grunted. "Another one?"
"He's different," the girl said. "Void-threaded. Not just mutated. Bound."
Raen stepped forward.
"Start explaining. Who are you people?"
The girl turned.
"We're not a faction. Not a guild. Not part of the Core or the Grid. We're what's left of something that never officially existed."
The woman with the sensor-band spoke, voice low and metallic.
"We are the Forgotten."
---
They told him what the world didn't.
About the Codex Culling—a century-old purge that had eradicated all who bore non-standard genetic paths. The official story was that these early Codex users were unstable, dangerous. The truth? They couldn't be controlled.
Their abilities broke the hierarchy.
The Grid system—the government's global interface—relied on clean statistics. Predictability. Compatibility. But the old Codexes? They adapted. Grew. Defied templates.
"Too many anomalies started surviving," the dreadlocked man said, voice like gravel. "People like you."
Raen absorbed every word, silent.
He knew nothing of this.
The world taught you to awaken, sync with a beast, enter the Ascendant Track, rise by tier, and become useful. But these people spoke of freedom from that system entirely.
Of self-determined evolution.
Raen's voice cut through the silence.
"Why do you hide?"
The girl answered. "Because anyone not on the Grid is a threat to their order. They hunt us because our growth can't be measured."
She nodded toward the sling across Raen's shoulder.
"That egg you carry? It's not a beast. Not exactly. It's a root. A seed of something that predates Codex logic. Something Primordial."
Raen's jaw clenched.
"What happens if it hatches?"
The woman with the sensor-band whispered.
"You die. And become something else."
Raen said nothing.
He'd already known.
---
Later, as the others went quiet and began powering down their systems to avoid trace signals, Raen stood at the edge of the chamber, staring into the flickering glow of an old stat-screen.
He didn't know who he was anymore.
Not fully.
But he knew what he wasn't.
He wasn't going back to being powerless.
And he wasn't staying invisible forever.
The girl—her name still unspoken—approached him quietly.
"There's something else," she said. "Something you're not telling us."
Raen didn't answer.
She studied his face.
"You didn't accept that Codex out of chance or curiosity. You needed it. Like breathing."
A pause.
"Why?"
Raen looked at her, and for the first time, something flickered behind his eyes.
"Because if I didn't…" he said softly, "someone else would have died."
She didn't ask more.
And Raen didn't say who.
---
[Codex Update – Hidden Flag Activated]
> Motivational Catalyst Unlocked: [REDACTED]
Voidbeast Resonance: Increased
Codex Instinct Mode Evolving
Mutation Factor: 4.8%
---
Chapter 2: The Egg That Shouldn't Exist
Part 3: Steel in Silence
Raen's breath fogged lightly in the cool air of the chamber. Morning in the Fringe was never bright, but down here, beneath the city's bones, time didn't matter.
He stood barefoot on a wide metal platform, surrounded by half-lit lanterns and old generator coils. His coat and boots lay neatly beside a training rack, replaced by sleeveless black utility wear from the Forgotten's stash.
The girl—still unnamed—stood in front of him.
A long black staff rested across her shoulders. Her eyes studied his posture critically.
"You have no formal training," she said bluntly.
Raen nodded.
"No one teaches martial arts in the Fringe. You're expected to either shoot or die."
"Unacceptable," she said.
Then she struck.
---
It wasn't a full-strength attack. But it was fast. The staff snapped toward his chest with a low whump of compressed air. Raen moved to block—but the staff twisted mid-arc and tapped his shoulder with pinpoint precision.
He stumbled.
The girl exhaled slowly and stepped back.
"Your instincts are decent. That much was clear in the alley. But instincts aren't enough. You're carrying something unstable—your power will grow unpredictable. You need structure."
Raen straightened, chest burning.
"What kind of structure?"
She tapped her staff on the floor.
"Voidflow Form One. Breath and Blade. I'll teach you the physical aspect. Later, if you survive long enough, we'll talk about the spiritual side."
Raen frowned. "Voidflow… sounds ancient."
"It is," she said. "It was banned after the Codex Culling. The forms were said to shape not just the body—but the very threads of a person's fate."
She stepped into stance—wide footing, loose shoulders, hands moving like water.
Raen mimicked her.
And so began his first lesson.
---
The training lasted hours.
The movements weren't complicated—but executing them under pressure was. Each form emphasized redirection, silence, and misdirection. No brute strength. No flashy strikes. Only precise, minimal violence.
As they practiced, the Codex hummed softly in Raen's vision.
> [Motion Analysis Engaged]
Voidflow Form: Breath and Blade – Basic Patterns Uploaded
Muscle Memory Synchronization: 9%
Codex Suggestion: Begin Weapon Integration Soon
Mutation Factor: 5.2%
---
By the time they stopped, Raen was soaked in sweat, muscles trembling.
He sat with his back to the wall, sipping nutrient water from a metal flask. The egg rested beside him. Still quiet. Still watching.
The dreadlocked man—Harn, as he introduced himself earlier—walked over and dropped something wrapped in black cloth.
Raen unwrapped it slowly.
A katana.
Long. Black. Voidsteel-forged.
The blade shimmered faintly—not with polish, but with density. It was heavy for a weapon its size. Perfectly balanced. The hilt was wrapped in textured leather, and the tsuba bore an abstract sigil: a spiral carved into obsidian.
Raen looked up.
Harn's expression was unreadable.
"That sword was made for someone who never lived long enough to use it," he said. "Now it's yours. Until you're strong enough to earn it."
Raen nodded silently.
He wrapped the weapon in cloth again, then slung it over his back—opposite the egg. Two futures now clung to him.
One forged in metal.
The other born in shadow.
---
That night, while the others powered down for rest, Raen sat alone in the training chamber, blade resting across his knees.
He stared at the egg again.
Its cracks had changed.
Just slightly.
The violet glow within had deepened—grown denser. Not brighter, but more defined. And something inside... was no longer passive.
It felt like pressure. Presence.
Raen reached out—not physically, but mentally. The same way he interacted with the Codex.
He wasn't sure what he expected.
But something answered.
> Hungry.
Grow.
Danger.
Blood needed.
Raen flinched.
It wasn't a voice. More like an impulse. A need.
But it wasn't violent. It was simply truth.
The egg… needed him to grow stronger.
To become more.
Raen exhaled and pressed a hand to the shell.
"I will," he whispered. "But not as your host."
He closed his eyes.
"I'll become your other half."
---
Beyond Sector 9 – Classified Zone: Outland Watch
The city's walls were seamless, their defense grids monitored by layers of automated sentry drones, mirror satellites, and awakened sentries. Nothing entered or left unnoticed.
And yet… high above, in an invisible orbit channel, a figure stood.
Or floated.
It was difficult to define.
Wrapped in layered plates of organic armor that shimmered like starlight, its form constantly shifted. Eyes that weren't eyes scanned the city, focusing on a single sector. On a single thread.
> "It has begun again," the being whispered.
A second form shimmered into visibility beside it—a woman encased in lightweave, her mouth hidden behind a breathing veil.
"He activated the Codex?"
The armored figure nodded once.
"But not a replica. The original."
The woman's voice turned brittle.
"That's impossible."
"No. That's legacy."
A pause.
"Should we alert the Grid Council?"
"No. Not yet. If we move too soon, we destroy the last proof of the ancient breach. Let him grow. Let him reveal them. Then… we cull."
They turned back to the world below.
And vanished.
---
[Codex Ping – Unseen Protocol Triggered]
> A new presence has marked you.
Codex Instinct Response: Shadow Layer Initialized.
Surveillance Suppression Engaged.
Mutation Factor: 6.4%
Raen j
erked upright in the dark.
He looked around.
No one. No sound.
But something cold pressed against his spine. A feeling he couldn't shake.
Something… or someone… had seen him.
And it hadn't blinked.