The warehouse had become more than a workplace. It was a sanctuary, a symbol. Families brought food for the workers, students volunteered to help with packing, and neighborhood tricycle drivers offered free rides for deliveries.
Rafael knew this unity was his strongest shield. But the Codex never let him forget the shadows.
"Warning: Probability of infiltration attempt within AquaPure workforce: 34% and rising. Anticipate hostile sleeper agents posing as volunteers or contractors."
He didn't tell anyone. Not Maria, not Rosa, not Jericho. To them, he was just a tireless leader who somehow saw threats before they appeared. To HydraCorp, he had to remain a genius strategist, not a man with an artifact whispering probabilities in his ear.
The infiltrator arrived on a humid Tuesday afternoon. A young man named Carlo—slim, polite, with a sharp smile—walked in carrying a recommendation letter from a local NGO. He claimed he wanted to "help the cause," and his quick hands and eager attitude made him a natural fit on the assembly line.
Maria was impressed. "Finally, someone who can keep up with soldering without burning his fingers," she joked. Rosa even sent him home with food after his first day.
But the Codex whispered red text only Rafael could see:
"Behavioral anomalies detected. Overeager compliance. Excessive questioning about supply routes. Probability of hostile intent: 68%."
Rafael masked his suspicion. If HydraCorp wanted to play spy games, he would let them—on his terms.
Over the next week, Carlo worked late shifts, always volunteering for tasks near shipping logs or delivery schedules. Workers saw him as helpful; Rafael saw a pattern.
One night, after the others had gone, Rafael "forgot" a set of forged shipping documents on the desk—a decoy route that didn't exist. He lingered in the shadows as Carlo's eyes flicked toward the papers. Minutes later, Carlo slipped them into his bag.
The Codex pulsed: "Confirmation acquired. Hostile agent identified."
The next morning, Rafael gathered the team. "We've had a breach," he said calmly, holding up the recovered papers. "Someone fed this route to hijackers last night. The truck wasn't ours, but the ambush was real."
Gasps erupted. Maria's face hardened, Jericho swore under his breath. Carlo froze, his mask slipping.
Rafael's voice was steel. "We welcomed you, fed you, trusted you. And you sold us out."
Carlo stammered, reaching for excuses, but Jericho and two others had already blocked the exits. For the first time, fear cracked the infiltrator's smile.
"We don't deal with snakes here," Rafael said quietly. "You'll walk out alive, but you'll never walk back in."
They stripped him of his ID, photographed him, and delivered him to the barangay captain with every piece of evidence neatly arranged. By evening, Carlo's face was all over social media—"HydraCorp Spy Caught in AquaPure."
The backlash was instant. Protesters marched again, louder than before. Hashtags trended: #HydraSnake, #HandsOffAquaPure. HydraCorp issued a denial, but nobody believed it.
That night, as calm returned to the warehouse, Maria asked softly, "Boss… how did you know? He fooled all of us."
Rafael offered a thin smile. "Patterns. People who lie leave cracks. You just have to look close enough."
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. To her, it was genius. To Rafael, it was the Codex.
When he was finally alone, the artifact whispered again:
"Infiltration neutralized. But HydraCorp escalation continues. Next vector predicted: financial collapse. Probability: 74%."
Rafael stared out at the glittering Manila skyline, his fists tightening. HydraCorp had tried poison, fire, knives, and spies. Now they would come for his lifeblood—money.
And he would be ready.