We passed a bullpen. Someone whispered, "That's him." The whisper spread like static down the row of desks.
"Solo clear," another voice said. "An F-rank. No party."
That one hit harder than the ogre's club. My ribs remembered. My stomach dropped like an elevator with cut cables. I kept walking, because stopping meant admitting it was about me.
The system had quietly handed me a shiny new title when the Core went dark. Cute little badge nobody else could see. Which was great, because if Central ever got a look at it, I'd probably wake up in a basement with wires in my teeth.
All they saw was an F-rank walking out of a gate that should've smeared me across tile. Alone. No party. No survivors. Just me and a face that didn't match the math.
That was enough to make me dangerous. Or suspicious. Or both.
We kept walking. Past desks that pretended not to be watching, past hunters who stared too long, past doors that hummed with rune locks. My shoes squeaked once on the polished floor and it sounded like a gunshot in church. The Incident Lead didn't slow down. I didn't either, but my stomach tried to crawl the other way.
At the end of the hall, a steel door waited. Black letters across the top: RESONANCE — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. It hissed open like it had been waiting to eat me. Cold air rolled out.
Inside was a ring carved into the floor, glowing runes that made my teeth itch. Glass panels on the walls. And a control room behind a billboard-sized window, already filling with gray suits, the kind of people who probably had clipboards for clipboards.
Incident Lead peeled off toward the glass booth. Examiner Vale stayed with me, chin tight, finger stabbing toward the glowing ring. "Center."
"What's it do?" I asked.
"Baseline profile," some guy answered through a mic. Older voice, all wire and rust. White coat, smoke hair, hands on the console like he wanted to rearrange my organs alphabetically. "Mana, aptitude, rank drift. Stand still. Do not exit once the coil engages."
"Define 'engages,'" I said, stepping onto the etchings anyway. Because apparently my survival instinct had clocked out early.
"You'll know," he said. Which was not helpful.
"Lose the weapon," Vale ordered.
"Yeah, so here's the comedy bit," I said. I set Fangpiercer down on the floor outside the circle. Blink. Back in my hand before I'd even stood up straight. "I swear, that's not me. That's it."
"Again," Vale ground out, jaw twitching.
I dropped it faster this time and hopped back into the circle. Blink. The dagger tucked itself at my hip like the jacket had sprouted a holster I didn't approve. Vale looked from my side, to the empty floor, back to my side. His face said he'd trained for smug criminals, liars, even mana junkies. Not haunted knives.
"Fine," he said. "If it interferes, we call Containment."
Containment sounded like a room with straps and people who didn't hear 'no.' I stayed very still.
Behind the glass, white-coat leaned into his mic. "Subject Cross, this is noninvasive. Breathe normally."
"You people love that word," I said. "Noninvasive. You guys keep saying that like it's foreplay."
The ring woke up one notch at a time. The runes filled in, bright and smug. The air inside went heavy, pressing at my collarbones, cool at my wrists. A high whine started behind my eyes, the kind that makes dentists rich.
"Baseline resonance—" white-coat started, then frowned. "Profile reads… zero mana."
"Zero. Yeah, story of my life. Bank account: zero. Love life: zero. Mana: zero. At least I'm consistent."
"Impossible," someone muttered behind the glass, loud enough for me to catch.
"Hi," I said to the window. "It's me. The impossible."
Another voice cut in. Older. Calmer. A voice cut in. Old. Calm. Heavy. The kind that didn't ask, just assumed your spine would listen. "Proceed to aptitude."
The coil's hum climbed until my molars buzzed. The runes brightened, pressure pushing at my chest. Fangpiercer hummed along like it wanted to join the choir. A faint system box flickered at the corner of my vision, shy, then vanished.
Nothing. No fireball. No glow. Just me standing there like a guy waiting for a bus.
"What is your ability?" the voice pressed.
"Working on a name," I said. "Taking suggestions."
"Demonstrate," white-coat demanded. "Anything. Manifestation, aura, physical alteration—something."
I spread my arms. "What do you want, a dance? My aura is sarcasm, my manifestation is bad decisions, and my physical alteration is—" I patted my shredded jacket— "this fashion statement."
The only sound was keys clicking and people pretending they weren't staring at me like I'd just sprouted horns. Nobody laughed.
Then the voice again. "Enough. Show us proof, or we escalate."
Escalate sounded like straps and fewer lights. My stomach did a drop. They weren't going to let me walk until I gave them something. Anything.
I looked down at my arm. At the old blood crusted into the skin. At Fangpiercer, smug and humming like it knew where this was going. If I wanted to leave this room without getting disappeared, I had to give them a trick.
So I pressed the tip until it nicked me. A millimeter of red. Stupid. Small.
Heat rushed under the cut, fast as a match dragged through my veins. The line zipped shut like it was embarrassed it had ever existed.
I held the arm up to the glass.
"Ta-da," I said.
For a second the whole room on the other side froze. Typing stopped. Suits leaned in. The kind of silence where you knew you'd just made yourself ten times more suspicious.
Nobody clapped.
The silence stretched. Then the voice came again, lower this time, the kind that didn't need to yell because walls did the yelling for it.
"Again," he said.
I stared at the glass until my reflection looked like someone else. "You guys ever get tired of not saying please?"
"Again," he said, same tone, because men like that don't have more than one.
Incident Lead's voice came through, even. "Mr. Cross, compliance helps us help you. Right now you're a statistical red flag. A bound A-rank artifact. Zero mana. Solo emergence with no exterior wounds. If you can't explain that, the math gets ugly."
"I know what ugly math looks like," I said. Rent lived in my head like a cockroach. "I'm intimately familiar."
Sweat finally found my lower back, late to the party. I didn't cut myself again. Couldn't. My hand just wouldn't do it while three dozen strangers leaned in like I was their afternoon science fair. Call me shy.
The voice came back, lower, steady. The kind that didn't need to shout because the walls did it for him.
"Fine. Verification," he said. "Awakening chamber."
Vale's mouth did a small nope when I glanced at him, which told me he didn't enjoy that room either. He opened the door. We walked.
They took me down a hall bleached clean of accidents. Through double doors with hazard sigils stamped across the frame. Into a space that felt like a dentist's office built by a cathedral: high ceiling, machines in a circle like saints that had gone into engineering, and a chair in the middle with too many straps and a halo that promised to learn my secrets whether I liked it or not.
"Have a seat," a tech said, neutral like yogurt.
"This is where I say no and you all get mad," I said.
The boss voice cut in from behind the glass. Calm. Cold. Weather talking.
"This is where you sit."
I sat. Leather crossed my chest, my wrists, my ankles. Not tight. Not yet. Fangpiercer pulsed against my palm once and settled, like even it wanted to see what happened next.
The halo lowered until cold air breathed on my scalp. Machines decided which lights to be. In the reflection of the glass I could see myself: a guy in someone else's shredded tee, crusted in old blood, grinning like an idiot because that's the face my nerves wear.
A quiet line tiptoed into the corner of my vision.
[Warning: External probe detected.]
Advice: Remain calm.
I almost laughed. "Great note," I whispered, so quiet it felt like thinking. "I'm incredibly calm."
On the other side of the glass, suits arranged themselves for maximum concern. Incident Lead's eyes were too steady. The white-coat's hands rested on his panel like supplicants. Kline leaned forward enough to make the room lean with him.
"Begin," he said.
The switch lifted.
And I was about to find out what kind of thing the system thought I was.