The city never truly slept, not in the way people imagined. Neon reflected off wet asphalt, digital billboards flickered with static advertisements, and somewhere in the maze of alleys, a hidden pulse hummed—a frequency only a trained mind could notice.
Arin Vale walked along the deserted street, hood pulled low, fingers brushing the edge of his pocket. Inside, his miniature encrypted device blinked, mapping probabilities in real time. To anyone else, it was just a blinking dot. To him, it was a map of opportunity.
A faint ripple in the air caught his attention. Nothing visible, but the statistical anomaly in his device jumped—odds shifting unnaturally. He paused, eyes narrowing. Someone—or something—had been here.
He crouched by a puddle, observing the reflection of a graffiti-covered wall. Tiny glyphs, almost invisible to the untrained eye, shimmered faintly. Probability shifted again. That was no ordinary graffiti. Arin's lips twitched in a smirk. Ancient code, disguised as street art.
Pulling out his portable scanner, he traced the pattern. Lines of data scrolled across the screen, merging symbols he hadn't seen in years. The device hummed louder. The Codex… someone had left him a breadcrumb.
He straightened, adjusting his jacket. There was a rhythm to the city's chaos, and he knew how to follow it. Whoever left this clue knew he would find it. That meant two things: one, they trusted no one but him, and two… they wanted a game.
Arin smiled faintly. Perfect.
The first step had begun.