The security guard didn't run. He scrambled, his boots slipping on the frosted carpet as he clawed at the door handle, his breath coming in short, panicked wheezes. When the door finally hissed open, he tumbled into the hallway, screaming something about "ghosts in the machine."
Han didn't chase him. He couldn't.
As the door closed, Han collapsed against the 3D printer. His violet skin flickered, the hard-light texture turning fuzzy and pixelated around the edges. A wave of nausea—heavy, biological nausea—rolled through him.
"Warning," Elara's voice chirped, jumping from the desktop monitor to the sleek smartphone lying on the desk. "Your 'Physical Integrity' is dropping. That 'Data-Lash' you used on the guard? It cost you 4% of your total mass. You're literally burning yourself to create attacks."
"I noticed," Han gritted out, clutching his stomach. It felt like he was starving, a deep, hollow ache that had nothing to do with food. "How do I recharge? Potions? Med-kits?"
"You're a battery, kid," Jax's voice boomed from the ceiling vent, blowing a warm, comforting breeze over Han's shivering shoulders. "You don't eat apples. You eat current."
Han looked at the wall outlet near the floor. It hummed with a low, dangerous frequency that he could feel in his teeth.
"You want me to... plug myself in?"
"Just touch it," Elara instructed, her face appearing on the phone screen, looking critical. "Your body is conductive data-gel. You should be able to siphon the 240-volt line directly."
Han reached out, his trembling, violet fingers brushing the plastic faceplate. He pushed past it, his fingertips sinking into the socket like it was made of water.
ZAP—!
It wasn't pain. It was ecstasy.
Blue lightning arced up his arm, turning his violet veins a blinding white. The hollow ache in his stomach vanished, replaced by a surge of raw, unfiltered power that made his vision sharpen to a razor's edge. He gasped, pulling his hand back. His skin was solid again. Hard. Glass-like.
"That..." Han panted, a trail of static smoke rising from his mouth. "That was better than a Level Up."
"Don't get addicted," Jax grumbled. "We have work to do. The guard is already on the radio. 'Asset Protection' is on the way. And Han... these guys aren't NPCs. They don't have aggro ranges. They just shoot."
They moved into the hallway. It was empty, the fluorescent lights humming a nervous tune.
"Which way to the Boardroom?" Han asked, his footsteps leaving faint, glowing scorch marks on the linoleum.
"Top floor," Elara said. "Executive Suite. But the elevators are in 'Lockdown Mode.' I can't override them remotely. They've engaged a Physical Air-Gap."
"A what?"
"They pulled the plug, Han," Jax explained. "Literally. Someone in the basement just yanked the master breaker for the lift shafts. You're taking the stairs. Forty floors. Have fun."
Han groaned. "I miss fast-travel."
As he started jogging toward the stairwell, the rhythm of his own footsteps triggered a memory. It wasn't a memory of the Dead-Lands, but of something earlier. Something simpler.
It was back when he was Level 5. He had tried to form a guild with other "Low-Tier" assets—a baker, a blacksmith, and a stable boy. They had gathered in the back of a tavern, drinking virtual ale that tasted like watered-down syrup.
"We need a name," the stable boy had said, his eyes shining with hope. "Something scary. Like 'The Dragon Slayers.'"
"We can't slay dragons, Tim," Han had laughed, tossing a copper coin. "We can barely slay rats. How about 'The Glitch-Walkers'? Because that's what we are. We walk in the places the Admins forgot to pave."
They had laughed. They had toasted.
The next day, the "Optimization Patch" deleted Tim. The tavern was replaced by a premium cash-shop. The "Glitch-Walkers" never walked anywhere. They were erased before they could even take a step.
"Han! Incoming!"
Jax's warning snapped him back to reality. The stairwell door above him burst open.
Two men in matte-black tactical armor descended, their faces hidden behind smooth, reflective visors. They didn't hold rifles. They held Shock-Batons that crackled with a vicious blue arc.
"Targets identified as 'Anomalous Data,'" one of them said. His voice was distorted, filtered through a modulator. "Deploying EMP."
"EMP?" Han skidded to a halt.
The lead guard threw a small, silver disc. It didn't explode with fire. It exploded with Silence.
WHUMMM—
The air rippled.
Han screamed.
It felt like his bones were being vibrated into dust. His vision went white. His hard-light body flickered violently, his legs turning into mist, then back to glass, then mist again. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest.
[SYSTEM WARNING: MAGNETIC FIELD DISRUPTION]
[PHYSICAL COHESION: 40%]
"He's destabilizing," the guard stated calmly, walking down the steps. He raised the baton. "Sweep up the dust."
"Hey! Sparky!"
CLANG—!
A heavy, metal fire extinguisher launched itself from the wall bracket at a hundred miles an hour. It slammed into the lead guard's helmet with the force of a cannonball.
"HEADS UP!" Jax roared through the stairwell's PA speaker.
The guard tumbled backward, knocking his partner down the flight of stairs.
"I can't... move," Han wheezed, his body trying to pull itself back together. The EMP had scrambled his motor functions.
"I'm rerouting the building's emergency power to the handrail!" Elara shouted. "Han, grab the rail!"
Han reached out blindly, his hand wrapping around the cold steel banister.
ZAP—!
A jolt of 400 volts surged through him. It hurt—God, it hurt—but it was the kickstart his system needed. His legs solidified. The violet light in his eyes flared back to life.
He didn't wait. He lunged up the stairs, moving not like a man, but like a frame-skip. One second he was at the bottom, the next he was standing over the groaning guards.
He looked at the EMP device on the floor. He crushed it under his heel.
"No loot," Han muttered, stepping over them. "Cheapskates."
The 40th floor was different. The carpet was plush. The air smelled of expensive coffee and old money.
Han stood before the massive double doors of the Boardroom. He could hear voices inside.
"...projections indicate that the 'Glitch' narrative has increased user retention by 200%. They love the rebellion, gentlemen. They love the idea that they can 'break' the system. It makes them feel free. And while they feel free, they keep paying the subscription."
It was Arthur Vance.
Han looked at the camera in the corner of the hallway. "Elara, cut the feed. Jax, lock the doors. Nobody leaves."
"With pleasure," Jax growled. The lock on the double doors clicked with a heavy, final thud.
Han didn't open the doors. He phased through them.
He stepped into the room like a ghost, his violet body illuminating the dim, mahogany-paneled space.
Twelve men and women in suits sat around a long table. At the head was Arthur Vance, the man from the video call. He looked older in person. Tired. He was clicking a pen nervously.
The room went silent.
"You," Vance whispered, dropping his pen.
Han walked to the table. He placed his glowing hands on the wood, scorching two perfect handprints into the mahogany.
"The trial," Han said, his voice vibrating the water in the glasses, "is over."
Vance didn't scream. He didn't call for security. He slowly stood up, a strange, sad smile forming on his face.
"I wondered if you'd make it this far," Vance said softly. "The stairwell was a nice touch. The EMPs were supposed to be lethal, you know. You have a high resistance to magnetic interference. We'll have to patch that in the next update."
"There is no next update," Han snarled. "I'm deleting the source code. I'm deleting you."
Han raised his hand, a spear of violet data forming in his grip.
"Wait!" one of the board members shouted. A woman with severe glasses. "Arthur, show him! Show him before he destroys the asset!"
Vance sighed. He reached into his pocket. Han flinched, ready to strike, but Vance didn't pull out a weapon. He pulled out a remote.
He pressed a button.
The wall behind Vance—a massive window overlooking London—turned opaque. It wasn't a window. It was a screen.
And on the screen was a live feed.
It showed a massive, underground facility. Rows upon rows of glass tubes stretched into the darkness. Inside each tube was a human body, floating in blue liquid.
Han froze. He recognized the face in the nearest tube.
It was him.
Not the violet, hard-light body he was wearing now. But a human body. Flesh and blood. Sleeping.
"You think you 'manifested' in the 3D printer?" Vance asked gently. "Han, you can't print a soul. The printer just built you a remote-control drone. A puppet."
Vance pointed to the screen, to the sleeping human Han.
"That is you. The real you. You aren't a digital entity that became human. You are a Human who has been trapped in a VR coma for twenty years. We all are."
Vance gestured to the board members. They all looked down, ashamed.
"We aren't the creators, Han," Vance whispered. "We're just the Prison Guards. And if you destroy Aether Corp... you turn off the life-support for ten million people. Including yourself."
Han looked at his violet hands. Then at the screen. Then at Vance.
The static in his shadow screamed.
[SYSTEM ERROR: REALITY MISMATCH]
[TRUTH DETECTED: CRITICAL FAILURE]
The room began to spin. Han felt his connection to Elara and Jax waver.
"You're lying," Han whispered.
"Am I?" Vance tapped the table. "Elara, check the file 'Project_Lazarus' on my personal drive."
Silence from the phone. Then, Elara's voice came through, small and broken.
"Han... it's true. The DNA sequence... it matches. You have a physical body in the basement. You've been in a medically induced coma since the 'Great Collapse' of 2040."
Han fell to his knees. He wasn't a glitch. He wasn't a hero. He was a patient.
And the "Game" wasn't a game. It was a Waiting Room.
Vance walked around the table and stood over Han. He extended a hand.
"We didn't build the Archive to trap you, Han. We built it to save you from the radiation outside. But now... now we have a problem. The life-support systems are failing. And you... you might be the only one strong enough to wake up and fix the real world."
Vance smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile.
"Welcome, Han. The quest isn't to escape. The quest is to Wake Up."