The Beta officer gritted her teeth, defiance burning in her eyes. She wasn't a Gamma left to die in the dark; she was an enforcer of Aethel's order, and she would not be unmade by a glitch.
With a roar, she abandoned her broken defenses and lunged forward, her armored fist swinging in a powerful, precise arc. The suit whirred, channeling kinetic energy into the blow. It was a strike that could dent alloy plate.
Her fist passed through the Hardlight Phantasm's chest as if it were smoke.
The creature didn't even flinch. It turned its blank, glowing face towards her, its own light blade rising. The officer's momentum carried her past it, and she stumbled, her face a mask of shocked disbelief. Her best weapon, her raw physical power, was useless.
Ren watched from the shadows, a cold, analytical part of his brain cataloging the event. Threat: Intangible. Conventional force: ineffective. The Beta was dead. A foregone conclusion.
His first instinct was to slip away. One less Beta in the world was no loss to him. She would see him as a freak, a Gamma with an ability. A problem to be contained or eliminated. Leaving her to die was the safest, most logical option.
But logic had layers.
He cataloged her, too. Asset: Armored. Trained. Possesses a powerful, if situational, Covenant. Knows the layout of the upper sectors. A dead Beta was just a corpse. An indebted Beta… an indebted Beta was a resource. A key. A shield.
Survival wasn't about avoiding every risk. It was about taking the right ones.
He stepped out from behind the server rack.
The Beta officer scrambled back, putting distance between herself and the Phantasm. She saw him, and her eyes widened in a mix of fury and disbelief.
"What are you doing here, Gamma? Get out! This is a restricted—"
"Quiet," Ren said, his voice cutting through her panic. He didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on the Aberration, which had turned its attention toward the new arrival.
He could see it now, clear as day. The Phantasm wasn't a solid being. It was a knot of corrupted light, a dozen golden Covenant threads twisted into a malicious, semi-stable form. And in its very center, a single, pulsing thread of violet—the glitch, the anchor, the seam.
The Phantasm drifted towards him, its ethereal sword raised. The officer shouted something, a warning or a curse, but Ren didn't hear it. The world was already fading, narrowing to that single point of violet light.
He reached out with his mind. The headache was instant, a familiar spike of agony. This Covenant was more complex than a simple lock, more volatile. It fought back, its corrupted energy flooding his mind with static and the ghostly sound of a thousand screaming voices.
[System Lag] critical…
The Phantasm was almost upon him, its blade descending.
He locked onto the violet thread. You are not real, he thought, a cold, vicious certainty cutting through the pain. You are a mistake. And I am the editor.
He pulled.
For a heartbeat, the world went white. The Covenant shattered.
The Hardlight Phantasm stopped. It looked down, its form flickering violently. The ethereal sword dissolved into a puff of light. The glowing, humanoid shape began to unravel, its golden threads unspooling into the air like a cheap sweater. Within seconds, it was gone, leaving behind only a faint, lingering scent of ozone and a corridor plunged into an unnerving silence.
Ren gasped, the world crashing back in on him. He had done it. It was the "wow" moment from the blueprint, a definitive proof of his unique power.
Then the Flaw claimed its due.
He staggered, the floor tilting beneath him. The officer's sharp intake of breath reached him a second later, a distant, phantom sound. He dropped to one knee, his vision a nauseating blur, his entire body screaming in protest. He was completely, utterly vulnerable.
He looked up, his unfocused eyes finding the Beta officer. She was standing a few meters away, her own sword half-drawn. She wasn't looking at him with gratitude. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe, suspicion, and a deep, primal fear.
It was the look one gives not to a saviour, but to a monster far more dangerous than the one he had just unmade.