Then, a different thought, sharp and cold as an assassin’s hook, sliced through the panic. *Why me?* The Overseer loved its 'Chosen Ones'. Rodel Vance, the self-proclaimed hero, had been showered with boons, lauded by the very entity Jaro was trying to dismantle. Rodel had a gilded Soul-Seed shining on his chest, a direct umbilical to the entity's power. A parasitic trap, yes, but still a *connection*. Jaro spun, his eyes locking onto the inert form of Rodel Vance, still floating unconscious near the Wyrm’s throat. A wide, predatory grin stretched across Jaro’s face, a stark contrast to the fear that had just gripped him. Sacrificing his Class was a fool’s game. Sacrificing Rodel’s ‘boon’ to save everyone else? That was just good management. “Oh, you are going to *hate* this, Rodel,” Jaro muttered, his voice a low growl. He propelled himself through the viscous, acidic interior, ignoring the burning sensation on his bare arms. Rodel, still drooling slightly, was easily hauled back towards the spire terminal. He was a dead weight, but Jaro moved with a terrifying efficiency that belied the awkwardness of the task. He slammed Rodel’s back against the smooth, black surface of the spire, jostling the 'Chosen One' awake. Rodel’s eyes fluttered open, staring in terror at the runic script and the stomach-churning environment. “What—what’s going on? Jaro, you—you saved me! I knew it! The Overseer sent you to protect its champion!” His voice was a thin, reedy whine. “Hardly, champion,” Jaro said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. He grabbed the gilded Soul-Seed embedded in Rodel’s chest, ignoring Rodel’s choked gasp. “This little bauble of yours? It’s about to get a promotion.” Rodel thrashed, sobbing, “No! My power! My glory! The System will be furious!” Jaro ignored him, his expert fingers probing the terminal's interface. He found a secondary port, usually reserved for diagnostic probes, and with a swift, brutal motion, plunged Rodel’s Soul-Seed directly into it. Rodel screamed, a high-pitched wail that echoed off the Wyrm’s fleshy walls as raw plasma surged from his body into the spire. His face went ashen, the parasitic graft pulsing erratically, its gilded light flickering to a sickly green, then an angry violet. [Warning: Unrecognized Power Signature Detected. Overload Imminent.] [Attempting Auto-Correction. Initiating Protocol: ‘Heroic Sacrifice’.] “Oh, no you don’t,” Jaro snarled. He slammed his palm against another section of the terminal, bypassing the core auto-corrective measures. He noticed a small, almost hidden icon labeled ‘Public Broadcast’. A mischievous glint entered his eye. “Let’s give the world a show, shall we?” [Public Broadcast Activated. Audio and Visual feeds now live across all city jumbotrons.] Outside, across the ruined campus, cadets huddled in fear, their faces illuminated by the flickering images of the massive jumbotrons that had once displayed propaganda. Now, they showed a shaky, internal view of the Hydra-Wyrm’s gullet. Rodel Vance, strapped to a terminal, screaming as violet currents coursed through him, was front and center. And then, Jaro’s voice, clear and resonant, boomed from every speaker. “Greetings, Zircol! This is your friendly neighborhood Scrapper, Jaro Tenza, reporting live from the gut of a very large, very dead monster! And with me, we have the Overseer’s ‘Chosen One’, Rodel Vance!” Gasps rippled through the assembled crowd. Inessa, standing beside Milla in the rubble-strewn courtyard, stared at the screen, a strange mix of horror and dawning admiration on her face. Milla, however, just puffed out her chest. “My brother knows him!” Jaro continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “As you can see, our ‘hero’ here is valiantly contributing to the System’s overhaul. He’s powering it, in fact! Quite the selfless act, wouldn’t you say? Especially for a man who, moments ago, was trying to abandon everyone and flee into the mouth of a different monster. A real leader, this one!” Rodel wailed, “He’s lying! Jaro! Stop this!” “Lying? Why, the jumbotrons don’t lie, Rodel. Neither does the fact that you nearly soiled yourself when the Gore-Mantis showed up. Or that you hid behind a vending machine during the Phase-Hound assessment, leaving others to fight for their lives.” Jaro leaned into the virtual microphone. “Let’s be honest, Zircolia. The only thing ‘heroic’ about Rodel Vance is his ability to take credit for *other* people’s work, while crying in a corner. A true paragon of cowardice, if ever there was one!” Across the ward, the cadets, the faculty, even the Headmaster’s remaining cronies, watched in stunned silence as their 'Chosen One' was systematically, brutally dismantled by the very 'Scrapper' he had mocked. [Warning: Malicious User Detected. Threat Level: Catastrophic.] [Initiating Architect Defense Protocols. Purging Anomalous Data.] A furious hum vibrated through the Wyrm. The spire pulsed, and from its black glass, a figure began to coalesce. It shimmered with an angry, corporate luminescence – a luminous, humanoid construct, its face a mask of incandescent rage. Its voice, usually a cheerful chirp, was a distorted snarl. “Unauthorized access! Cessation of hostile actions demanded! Your soul is forfeit, Jaro Tenza!” It lunged, a bolt of pure, concentrated heat gathering in its ethereal hand, aimed directly at Jaro. But just as it began its attack, a blur of motion appeared behind it. Milla had slipped into the maw unnoticed, spotting Jaro’s discarded mop floating in the bile. With a fierce cry, “Leave my brother alone, you shiny bully!”, Milla hoisted the heavy mop and brought it down with all her might. *SMACK!* The construct reeled, a high-pitched, digital shriek tearing from its form as its luminous head crumpled inward. Its attack fizzled. Jaro, startled but grinning, didn’t miss a beat. “Nice hit, sis!” He slammed his fist onto the terminal. “Inessa, now!” Outside, Inessa planted her boots into the courtyard debris and raised her hands. “Solar Flare: Overcharge!” she roared, directing a torrent of concentrated solar energy directly at the spire. The beam tore through the Wyrm’s flesh, striking the spire with blinding force. The construct, still reeling from Milla’s mop beatdown, screamed again as the solar fire overloaded its radiant form. Jaro, with a final, savage yank on Rodel’s Soul-Seed, ripped it free. The spire bucked, the violet discharge consuming the construct. [ERROR: Core Protocols Compromised! Divine Blessings: Purge Initiated!] The corporate-HR entity exploded in a silent, brilliant flash of light. A pulse of raw force radiated outwards, tearing through the Wyrm, through the campus, across the grounds. On every cadet, every citizen who bore an imprint, the marks shattered like fragile glass, dissolving into motes of light that vanished into the air. Rodel, now pale and shivering, collapsed. The Hydra-Wyrm gave one final, shuddering tremor and then slumped, its colossal body settling with a sickening *thud*. Silence fell, broken only by the groans of the injured and the distant sounds of collapsing debris. Jaro, Inessa, and Milla clambered out of the Wyrm’s gaping mouth, blinking in the harsh sunlight filtering through the dust. Youths, freed from their gilded cages, stared at their bare chests in disbelief. Relief, confusion, and a burgeoning sense of gratitude filled the air. “Is it… over?” Milla whispered, her voice hoarse. Jaro nodded, wiping acid from his cheek. “The Architect’s local presence, yes. The soul-traps are gone.” He looked at Inessa. “Good work, Davor.” She met his gaze, a wry smile touching her lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, Tenza. For a lazy Scrapper.” But the peace was short-lived. A low moan drew their attention to a pile of rubble near the base of the spire. Beneath a fractured slab of obsidian, a hand protruded, clutching something that pulsed with an ominous, dull red glow. They recognized the Headmaster’s ornate ring. Jaro knelt, his gaze chilling as he moved the debris. Headmaster Solon, his face a grotesque mask of terror and agony, was dead. His fingers, even in death, were clamped around a small, spherical device. It wasn't a gift. It was a beacon. And it was transmitting.

Overloaded Systems and Mop Beatdowns