“Engage target!” Verek’s voice cracked, sharp against the cavernous hall. His finger remained leveled at Daris, trembling with a fury that bordered on seizure. The air thickened, charged with the sudden shift from ceremonial grief to sanctioned murder. A dozen riflemen began unclipping their energy weapons, their attention darting between Daris and the enraged Overseer. They were paid to follow orders, no matter how illogical. But Senna didn't move. Her gaze, usually sharp and clinical, was now fixed on the crimson ichor blooming on Verek's pristine trousers, then on the S-rank core at his feet – the core Daris had thrown, not given. The core of the beast Daris had slain, not Verek’s fallen team. Her hand, instead of reaching for her carbine, dropped to the datapad holstered at her belt. “Overseer, with all due respect,” Senna’s voice cut through the growing tension, surprisingly calm. “Identifying a corrupted hacker requires due process. Field execution is… premature.” Verek’s head snapped towards her, his eyes bulging. “Premature? This *thing* just desecrated a memorial! He’s a proven rogue element! Are you questioning my authority, Vangath?” Senna met his gaze unflinchingly. “I’m suggesting we follow protocol. A guild-sanctioned interrogation will extract more useful intel than a quick bullet. He clearly possesses… unique abilities. We should understand them before silencing them permanently.” It was a lie, a thin veil over insubordination. She saw the calculation in Verek’s eyes, the moment he weighed the optics of public execution versus potential intel. “Fine,” Verek spat, his voice still ragged with rage. “But he is to be taken alive, under maximum restraint. Any resistance, any attempt to escape, is met with lethal force. Take him, officer.” Before any other guard moved, Senna strode toward Daris. She grabbed Daris’s arm, her fingers clamping down just above his bleeding wrist. “Move,” she hissed, not waiting for his consent. She steered him towards a service corridor, away from the grand hall's main exits. The rest of the unit hesitated, confused by her rapid compliance. “This way, Overseer requested a secure processing route,” she called over her shoulder, her voice carrying an unshakeable authority. A low-level recruit, about to follow, caught her glare and flinched back. “Stay put. This is S-rank security clearance.” She shoved Daris through a fire door, the heavy clang echoing behind them. The corridor was narrow, dimly lit, and smelled of stale cleaning solvents. Daris stumbled, his vision blurring, but Senna kept him moving, her grip surprisingly strong. “Don’t resist,” she murmured, her voice losing its professional edge, now urgent. “We’re making a run for it.” “Run where?” Daris gasped, his side throbbing. He still felt the faint, itching sensation of the Hunter-Virus’s bite, a phantom limb that spoke of lingering poisons. “He’ll deploy the entire base.” “He’s arrogant, not stupid. He wants you alive for ‘interrogation’,” Senna replied, pulling a small, discreet stun-grenade from her belt. She tossed it ahead into a small junction where two guards were visible, talking lazily. The crack of the stun-burst was muffled, followed by two thuds. “And he’ll want that core. He thinks he can break you. He thinks he owns you.” Her expression was grim. “He doesn’t. And neither does the Apex Algorithm.” They moved fast, a blur through service tunnels and maintenance shafts, Senna navigating with a chilling efficiency. She disabled security cameras with quick, precise jabs to control panels, her movements fluid and practiced. They emerged onto a lower-level transit platform, typically used for cargo haulers. A dilapidated hover-skiff, usually reserved for garbage disposal, sat unattended. “Get in,” Senna ordered, her eyes scanning the desolate platform. Daris, battered and bleeding, didn’t argue. He clambered into the passenger seat, the smell of ozone and burnt refuse assaulting his nose. Senna hot-wired the skiff in seconds, the old engine sputtering to life with a groan. The anti-grav plates hummed, lifting them slowly. Then, with a sudden lurch, they were airborne, accelerating out of the deployment hub's lower bay and dropping straight into Neo-Krov’s grimy underbelly. The descent was brutal, a dizzying spiral through layers of urban decay. The polished chrome of the upper sectors gave way to rust-streaked durasteel and sputtering neon tubes. Senna pushed the skiff hard, weaving between decaying power conduits and precariously stacked slum dwellings. She didn’t stop until the skiff shuddered to a halt in a darkened alleyway, a few blocks from Daris’s tenement. “Tila,” Daris muttered, pushing himself out of the skiff, ignoring the fresh burst of pain from his ribs. “I have to see Tila.” Senna followed, her hand already reaching for a med-kit on her belt. “I know.” Her voice was softer now, devoid of the earlier urgency. She followed him into the cramped, low-ceilinged room, the air thick with copper and burnt ozone. Tila lay on her cot, her skin unnaturally pale, a faint, sickly green glow emanating from beneath her eyelids. Her breathing was shallow, ragged. Daris knelt beside her, his hand hovering over her forehead. The S-rank core he’d absorbed had granted him an immense surge of raw mana, a wellspring he hadn’t fully tapped. He focused, pushing a controlled stream of energy into her, not to cure, but to stabilize. Tila’s tremors lessened. The green glow subsided, replaced by a faint, healthy flush. Her breathing deepened, evening out. The effect was temporary, a band-aid on a gaping wound, but for a moment, the room settled into an uneasy quiet. Senna watched, a strange, unfamiliar ache in her chest. She tore open the med-kit. “Your side,” she said, her voice a little rougher than intended. “Let me see that.” She gently pushed Daris’s tattered tunic aside, revealing the angry, festering bite mark left by the Hunter-Virus. She worked in silence, cleaning the wound, applying an antiseptic gel that stung, then bandaging it with practiced ease. Her fingers brushed his skin, lingering against the fevered muscle. She met his stare, cataloging the tremor in his hands and the deliberate steadiness behind it. She saw a man fighting against impossible odds, for someone he loved. Suddenly, Senna’s data-pad, which she had snatched from her hip holster and was idly toying with, chirped. It was a standard-issue guild pad, packed with unexpected counter-encryption. She had been picking at it during their escape, a nervous habit. Now, a pale prompt locked onto the glass: ‘Access Granted: Verek Private Logs.’ “What is it?” Daris asked, his voice low, still watching Tila’s serene face. Senna’s fingers flew across the holographic interface, her analytical mind immediately recognizing the structure of the data. She drew a sharp, silent intake of air. The logs, crude and unrefined, detailed a series of covert operations, ‘nutrient harvesting’ of lower-tier awakened, disguised as standard rift deployments. Not just feeding them to the rifts, but to the Apex Algorithm itself. Verek knew. He knew the System was parasitic, a slow-growing cancer feeding on humanity’s lowest tiers. He knew, and he actively participated, funneling fodder into the maw, all to maintain his gilded cage of orbital luxury. “Verek…” Senna whispered, her face pale with disgust. “He’s not just corrupt. He’s a collaborator.” She held out the data-pad to Daris, the stark red text of the logs flashing across the screen. “He knows the System is alive. He’s feeding it.” Before Daris could react, a colossal thrum vibrated through the floorboards. A sound like grinding gears and tearing metal, rapidly approaching. The dim light of the alley outside was suddenly eclipsed by a monstrous shadow. Then, the entire slum perimeter erupted in a cataclysmic roar of explosions. The ground buckled, sending them stumbling. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling. A deep, guttural laugh, amplified by external speakers, boomed through the shattered air. “Daris Renok! You didn’t think I’d let a valuable asset like you just… walk, did you?” Verek’s voice, distorted and metallic, echoed through the blast zone. Through the sheared plaster, Daris saw the plated mass: a towering S-Rank Mech Suit, its heavy plasteel frame catching the streetlamps while its arm cannon whined to life. Verek, inside the cockpit, was visible through the reinforced viewport, a wide, maniacal grin plastered across his face. “I’m here to reclaim my property! And if I have to glass this entire block to bury my secrets, then so be it!” The mech’s cannon whined, a high-pitched shriek of building energy. Daris threw himself in front of Tila’s cot, shielding her with his body. Senna scrambled for her rifle, her face a mask of shocked fury. Before the ordnance could cycle, a harsh glow cut through the pulverized drywall. Not from the mech, but from Tila. Her eyes, open now, glowed with an eerie, pulsing red. A spectral projection of jagged crimson digits hovered above her. The words were stark, horrifying, and utterly alien. [WARNING: SERVER WIPE IN 24 HOURS.]

Stacked Deck