The glow from the shattered terminal bathed the alley in a sickly azure light, illuminating Xander's stunned expression. The code-web that had erupted seconds ago now fizzled like burnt paper, leaving behind charred glyphs floating in the air. His hands trembled—not from fear, but recognition.
That sigil. He'd seen it in his dreams.
Lyra stood beside him, her breath short, cheeks flushed from the sprint. "That wasn't just a trap," she whispered. "That was a beacon."
Xander swallowed the lump in his throat. "Then someone knows I accessed the code."
"Someone," Lyra said, "or something."
Behind them, a low rumble echoed.
Raid—still in his feline form—emerged from the shadows, tail twitching, jade-green eyes aglow. But this time, his tattoos pulsed with a strange rhythm, each mark humming with residual energy. His fur bristled.
"Raid?" Xander turned to him. "You felt that too?"
Raid stared silently, gaze fixed on the remains of the code-web. And then he spoke.
Not through voice, but telepathically. Words burned directly into Xander's mind, cold and resonant.
"You are being watched by something older than code. Older than this city."
Xander staggered back. "You… you can talk?"
Lyra gasped. "Wait—Raid, you—?"
Raid's form shimmered. For a brief moment, his body pulsed with luminous veins—thin streaks of light branching like ancient circuitry across his limbs. In that instant, he was no longer a cat or even a beast. He was something between realms. His shadow stretched in jagged angles, and his gaze held intelligence that felt… unearthly.
"I was silent because I had to be," Raid said. "Because once I spoke, they'd know I survived."
"Who are they?" Xander asked, voice low.
"The ones who created the Soul Circuit. The architects of the first harvest. And I—I was once their sentinel."
Lyra's lips parted, eyes wide. "You're not just a beast…"
Xander stepped forward, memories flooding back. The day he found Raid half-starved and trembling in the shell of an abandoned subway station. The way Raid had immediately trusted him, as if they'd met before.
"You saved me," Raid said, breaking Xander's thoughts. "But I once saved you, long ago. You just don't remember yet."
Something deep inside Xander twisted. "What do you mean?"
But Raid's form flickered again. His tattoos dimmed. The power that had flared moments ago was retreating.
"My time is not yet," he said. "But it's coming. And when it does, you'll remember everything."
Before Xander could press further, the sound of heavy boots echoed in the alley.
Multiple footsteps. Armed.
"Run," Raid commanded, shifting back into his silent form.
Xander grabbed Lyra's hand and darted into the crumbling side corridor. A burst of gunfire cracked behind them as they ducked into the old sewer passageway.
Lyra stumbled. "Those weren't just city enforcers—they were Reclaimers."
Xander cursed under his breath. "Then the Soul Harvesters are already moving."
They didn't stop until they reached the rusted blast door embedded in the concrete. Xander pulled out the makeshift code spike he'd scavenged earlier, jabbing it into the port. Sparks flew, and the mechanism groaned.
"Come on… come on…" he muttered.
Behind them, Raid hissed at the dark.
The door finally clicked and slid open.
Inside was the chamber they'd only heard rumors about—the Black Archive. A vault of forgotten blueprints, magical algorithms, spell-weaves that predated even the first Circuit War.
And at its center, floating in a tank of humming black liquid, was a severed mechanical hand—ornate, covered in runes and circuitry that pulsed like veins.
Lyra stared. "What is that?"
"A hand of the Codeseers," Raid answered grimly. "One of the few who resisted the Forgotten Awakening. A relic—and a curse."
Xander stepped forward. The hand twitched, responding to his presence.
He felt it again—that eerie, magnetic pull. Not from the hand—but from within him. As if a part of him already knew this place. Knew its secrets.
Memories surged—blinding flashes of surgical circuits, blood rituals, an underground chamber lined with screaming souls suspended in glass.
Then he saw it—a face, half-obscured by smoke and static. Crimson eyes. A voice whispering promises of resurrection.
Ralph Thorne.
The image vanished.
Xander collapsed to one knee.
Lyra rushed to him. "Xander! What's wrong?"
Raid's tail lashed. "He's awakening. Faster than expected."
"I saw him," Xander whispered. "The man behind it all. He wants to bring her back."
Lyra froze. "His love?"
Xander nodded. "And he'll sacrifice us all to do it."
From behind them, a siren wailed.
The Archive had been breached.
Raid growled. "It's him."
Xander rose, fists clenched. For the first time, something inside him felt... anchored. Ready.
Lyra reached into her coat and handed him a cracked sigil chip. "You'll need this. It's a Spellcode Amplifier. It'll let you control raw weave energy—but only once."
Xander held it tightly. "Then let's make it count."
They turned as the main corridor lights dimmed.
A shadow stepped into view. Tall, draped in a coat that shimmered like heat haze, his face hidden beneath a veil of mechanical threads that flowed like liquid.
Ralph Thorne.
He raised a single hand—and the walls around them groaned as veins of dark circuitry spread like roots, alive and hungry.
Xander's heart pounded.
This wasn't just the beginning of a battle.
It was the start of a war.