The wind howled across the jagged cliffs of Snowdonia, Wales. Once a quiet haven of ancient stone and mist, it now pulsed faintly with an unnatural resonance—barely perceptible to the human ear, but vibrating at the edge of existence.
Anderson stood alone near the summit of Glyder Fawr, hood up, his breath visible in the cold. His eyes, once a calm shade of grey, now shimmered faintly with fractal hues—evidence of the formula's slow and mysterious evolution inside him.
He hadn't spoken to anyone in weeks.
Ever since his escape from GASD surveillance and the Emissary activation, he'd vanished into the wilderness. Every night, his dreams were filled with voice not his own and structure impossible to describe. Memories from other lifetimes. Equations in languages humanity had never invented. Visions of Dr. Z, younger, bolder, warning him:
"They will come for your blood. But your mind—your mind holds the map."
That morning, as the first frost dusted the stone beneath his boots, Anderson unwrapped the final relic left behind by his great-grandfather: a smooth obsidian disk engraved with a spiraling sigil. He'd been afraid to activate it, fearing what it might do.
But the time for hiding was over.
He pressed his thumb to the center.
The disk vibrated, then floated gently into the air. A projection burst forth—not just light, but memory. Dr. Z appeared, but not the one Anderson remembered from childhood. This version was worn, gaunt, and... desperate.
"If you're seeing this," said Dr. Z, "then the harmonic pulse has begun. And the Architects have found the Source. That means it's already too late to stop it... but maybe you can redirect it."
Anderson staggered back, heart pounding. The disk shifted its projection—a series of data fragments location coordinates, encrypted formula—and finally, a single name:
"Cadence."
He whispered it aloud. It resonated like a song on his tongue.
Dr. Z message continued: "You must find Cadence. She was the first subject. She holds the other half of the key."
Suddenly, static overtook the projection. The disk flickered, twisted, then imploded into a thin ripple of sound that echoed down the mountain.
Anderson stared into the sky.
Cadence.
The name stirred something in him—an emotion he couldn't place. Was it love? Fear? Guilt?
He turned to descend the mountain, but stopped as he noticed three figures climbing fast toward him—dressed in black adaptive suits, their visors reflecting the sky.
GASD operatives.
They'd finally caught up.
Anderson clenched his fists. For the first time, his body responded before his mind could think. The air around him distorted. A pressure wave exploded outward, hurling the agents back like dolls in a hurricane.
He hadn't touched them.
He had become the signal.
Panting, Anderson knelt beside one unconscious agent. The retinal implant still blinked. He ripped it out and scanned it using the encoded comms embedded in his wrist from a stolen Continuum node. It displayed a classified transmission:
Destination: Arcadia Complex, Berlin.
Asset Priority: Cadence. Recover or Terminate.
His pulse accelerated. They were already hunting her.
He had no choice.
Anderson activated the emergency transport beacon hidden inside the lining of his jacket. It was a one-use device, rigged by a rogue Continuum engineer before he'd fled underground. It would get him near Berlin—but not without risk.
The sky shimmered as the transport initialized. The last thing he saw was the shimmering sigil of the disk, now burned faintly into his left palm.
Then, light swallowed him.
---
He woke in a forest just outside the decaying edge of Berlin. Drones hummed above. Old walls collapsed in silence. The city was no longer what it once was—it had become a fortress, partially digitized by Hesse's AI grid.
But he wasn't alone.
From the shadows emerged a girl with silver hair, wearing tattered research robes and carrying a broken violin.
She looked straight into his eyes. "You're Anderson. I've been waiting for you."
He recognized her from a dream. From something deeper.
"Cadence?"
She nodded.
Behind her, a low mechanical growl echoed through the ruins.
"They're here," she whispered. "And we don't have much time."
Together, they ran into the city.
The signal within Anderson pulsed again—stronger now.
And the war for the formula's soul had officially become personal.