The heavy steel door slid shut with a solid, definitive thump. The world went quiet.
The sounds of the battle—the constant crack of rifles, the roar of Anya's sniper, the explosions, the relentless footsteps of the Enforcer—were all gone. They were muffled, distant echoes from another world, a bad dream we had just woken from. We were inside a small, sterile control room. It was featureless, except for the cold, blue glow of computer terminals and holographic displays that cast long shadows on the walls. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, we weren't being shot at. We could breathe.
Anya collapsed against the thick door, sliding down its cool metal surface to the floor. She was panting, her face slick with sweat and grime. A dark patch was spreading on her pant leg from the wound, but she was alive. I leaned heavily against a console, my own body screaming with a chorus of exhaustion and pain. My muscles burned, my head pounded, and my health bar was a blinking, angry red at 22%. But we had made it. With zero seconds to spare.
The timer on my HUD, which had been counting down the seconds of our lives, vanished. It was replaced by a simple, green message in the corner of my vision: [PROTOCOL SCORCH: TARGETS OUT OF SANITIZATION ZONE]. A confirmation from Seraph's system. We were safe from her snipers.
A heavy, rhythmic BANG echoed from the other side of the door. The sound was deep and powerful, resonating through the floor and up my spine. It was the Ghost Enforcer. It was here. It was trying to break through. A second BANG followed, louder this time, more violent. A visible, spiderwebbing dent appeared in the thick steel of the door, centered at head-height. The door was strong, built to withstand explosions. But the Enforcer was stronger, and it was relentless. It wouldn't hold for long.
"The terminal, Leo!" Anya urged, her voice strained. She pointed with a trembling hand to the main console in the center of the room. "Hurry! Before that thing gets in here!"
I stumbled over to the terminal, my legs feeling like lead. Its screen flickered to life as I approached, my proximity activating it. The idealized Ouroboros logo, a snake eating its own tail to form an infinity symbol, materialized on the screen. This was Seraph's sanctum. Below the logo, text appeared. It wasn't a simple "Scrub Signature" button. Seraph was never that simple. She was too clever, too cruel for that.
[PROTOCOL SCORCH: ASSET RE-DESIGNATION PROTOCOL]
"What is that?" Anya asked, trying to push herself up with her arms, her eyes fixed on the screen. "What does 're-designation' mean?"
I didn't answer. I was reading the text that scrolled onto the screen below, and my blood ran cold. Each word was a nail being hammered into our coffin.
ANALYSIS: [SYSTEM ANATHEMA] status is a core player attribute. Cannot be scrubbed via local terminal access. BOUNTY PROTOCOL is permanently linked to this core attribute. Cannot be deleted.
"It can't do it," I said, my voice hollow. The hope that had carried us through the gauntlet, the hope of a clean slate, evaporated, leaving a cold, hard despair in its place. "This terminal… it can't remove the bounty."
The terminal continued its report, oblivious to my horror.
ALTERNATIVE SOLUTION AVAILABLE: Bounty Protocol parameters can be redirected. The [BOUNTY: LEO] marker can be transferred to another valid player signature within local network proximity.
The console beeped, a soft, cheerful sound that was utterly out of place in this tomb. A list of valid player signatures appeared on the screen. There were only two names on the list, glowing in a soft blue light, floating side by side.
LEO
ANYA
The full, horrifying truth of Seraph's "sanctuary" crashed down on me. This wasn't a way to save me. This was a way to transfer the problem. Seraph didn't care who the target was, as long as the bounty wasn't leading hunters to her doorstep. The terminal wasn't a tool for salvation. It was a tool for betrayal. It was offering me an impossible, monstrous choice. It was the final test of my character. What was I willing to do to survive?
BANG! CRACK! A deep fissure appeared in the metal door as the Enforcer slammed into it again with furious, single-minded force. The lights in the control room flickered violently. We had maybe thirty seconds before the door gave way completely.
The terminal, as if sensing the urgency, displayed the final prompt. Two buttons materialized on the screen, glowing with a terrible, inviting light. One was green, for "confirm." One was red, for "cancel."
[TRANSFER BOUNTY TO: ANYA]
[CANCEL TRANSFER]
My hand hovered over the console. My fingers trembled. I looked over at Anya. She was focused on her leg, tearing open a medical patch with her teeth, trusting me completely to save us. She was wincing in pain, but her eyes were filled with a fierce determination. She had fought for me, bled for me, trusted me when I told her to jump off a thirty-meter gantry. She had no idea that in this small, quiet room, I was now her greatest threat.
My mind raced through the scenarios.
If I pressed cancel, the Ghost Enforcer would break in. With my useless skills and her wounded leg, we wouldn't last ten seconds. It would kill her, and then it would take its time with me. We both die.
If I pressed transfer, the bounty, the System Anathema status, the full, undivided attention of every killer in the game—including the relentless monster right outside the door—would instantly shift from me to her. My HUD would clear. I would be free. The Enforcer would stop trying to kill me and turn its full, murderous attention on her. She would be torn apart. I live, she dies.
The Enforcer roared, a sound of pure, mechanical rage from the other side of the door. The metal screamed as it began to tear at the hinges.
I had to choose. Sacrifice myself and my only friend. Or sacrifice her to save myself. It was the ultimate devil's bargain.
My finger moved towards the glowing green button. The button that would save my life.