“Then, I’ll take my leave.” “Good. Go.” Flicker’s retreating back is a blur as Malek turns, dismissing her from his mind. Their partnership is dissolved. Her utility, for now, expended. His next destination is predetermined: the Aethelburg Data Vault. The sterile hum of active servers washes over him, a cold counterpoint to the city’s roar. The air carries the faint ozone tang of quantum processors, a scent far removed from the stench of blood and fear he’d grown accustomed to. Holographic projections flicker silently, displaying endless streams of information, while cloaked Archivists glide between stacks of crystal data-slates, their movements precise, almost ritualistic. Malek, still bearing the faint scent of the Gauntlet, the rough fabric of his outer tunic a stark contrast to their pristine robes, feels like a crude anomaly, a misplaced fragment of a violent past. A low growl, more a rumble of discontent than a sound of hunger, echoes through the vast chamber. Malek’s head snaps up. Another outlier. Another Unsanctioned. He notes the posture, the broad shoulders, the crude synth-leather armor peeking from under a borrowed robe. Not quite as out of place as himself, but close. He approaches, his heavy boots making no sound against the polished floor, a skill honed by countless hunts. He reaches out, a controlled tap on the shoulder plating. “Zyra. Penelin’s third daughter, isn’t it?” The Unsanctioned jolts, spinning with a surprising speed, hand instinctively dropping to where a blade might have hung. Recognition flickers in her feral eyes. “Kai? Malek?” “Good to see your circuits are intact,” Malek replies, his voice a low rumble, devoid of warmth. “You too!” Zyra’s voice carries, echoing in the hushed space. Several Archivists pause, their heads turning with a slow, deliberate disdain. Malek registers the irritation, the barely concealed contempt. “Lower your vox-unit,” he advises, his gaze flicking to the staring Hegemony Loyalists. Zyra’s face flushes, and she instinctively quiets. “My apologies. I wasn’t expecting another of us here.” *Nor I,* Malek thinks, his internal analysis confirming the shared sentiment. *A lapse in environmental prediction. Unacceptable.* “Why the archive, Zyra?” She shifts, an uncomfortable shuffle. “You said… last time, that I needed to think before I acted. Out in the Void-Scarred Expanse, I realized I needed more data to think properly.” Malek processes this. *Insightful. For her. A rare spark in the primitive mind.* He observes the open data-slate in her hand, the faint glow illuminating her face. Then he notes the slight tilt of her head, the heavy eyelids. She was dozing. *Naturally.* “Something happened to you out there,” he states, not asks. Zyra’s expression sours. “It was… more than just the Terrors. The fights, they weren’t the problem. But…” She trails off, a bitter twist to her lips. “It wasn’t just the beasts I had to watch out for.” Malek files the data. Most Unsanctioned would boast of kills, of overcoming challenges with brute force. She speaks of unseen threats, of strategy beyond pure aggression. She *is* different. A useful anomaly, perhaps. “So, this is your solution. Data acquisition.” “Yes. But… it’s not for me. The text feeds. It’s too slow, too dense. Should have focused more on data-scripting when I was a pup.” She sighs, a sound of genuine frustration. *Inefficient processing. Predictable.* Malek catalogs the weakness. “Starting today, I’m heading to the Synthesist Convent. Learn from the Data-Priests again. Though now I’m an adult, it’ll cost credits.” Malek feels a flicker of mild surprise. His rough advice, his calculated suggestion, had genuinely altered her trajectory. *Unexpected collateral effect.* Zyra closes her data-slate with a soft click and rises from her seat. “Going now?” “If you don’t act when the thought strikes, the thought dies.” Her words resonate with a crude, direct logic that Malek can appreciate. *Impulse, but channeled.* *The more I observe them, the more I see a tragically limited species,* he muses internally, his cynicism a familiar shield. “Then, I am gone.” With a quick nod, Zyra turns for the exit. But then she pauses, spinning back as if a newly uploaded data-packet had just pinged. “Ah! I remember. I swore to repay you, if I came back from the Expanse alive. If you ever need help, find me at The Cobalt Engine Cantina. Anything. I’ll assist as much as I’m able.” “Understood.” Malek gives a perfunctory nod. *A conditional asset. Worth noting.* He hopes she won’t purge that memory in the next twenty-four cycles. He has a feeling he’ll be making that call sooner rather than later. After Zyra leaves, Malek allows himself a moment to survey the Data Vault. *A single structure, the size of a Hegemony Senate Spire, dedicated to information storage.* Even in the Pre-Collapse Simulations, such archives were often ‘under construction’ and inaccessible. How does one navigate this ocean of data? There’s no interface for a simple keyword search, no direct neural link in his current physiological state. He decides on professional assistance. “*Khm*.” The sound, deliberately rough, cuts through the quiet. An Archivist, dozing at a console, stirs slowly. “State your query.” Her voice is flat, devoid of emotion. “Data-slates. Historical records.” “Designation: Parstyev.” Before he can elaborate, the Archivist intones the word. A faint energy pulses around Malek, a cool, invasive sensation that briefly tickles his neural network. *A psychometric interface? Biological integration?*. “Now, observe your surroundings. Relevant data will present itself. Retrieval is permitted, but data-slates must be returned to their precise coordinates.” With that, the Archivist slumps back, her systems apparently resetting to idle. Malek doesn’t bother waking her again. He simply follows the new internal directive. As he moves, certain data-slates glow faintly, almost calling to him. He slowly grasps the function of the interface. *Void-Entities. History. Expanse Anomalies. Unsanctioned. Essence Shards.* As his mental keywords shift, so too do the highlighted data-slates. *Convenient. A neural-driven filtering system. Elegant, for such a crude setting.* With such an interface, a single, semi-functional Archivist is all that’s needed. The sheer scale of the vault, compared to its sparse users, is now explainable. Malek selects the most resonant data-slates, one by one, opening their interfaces. *The Sundered Cycles: Volume I*. The first seven hundred pages describe the early history of this world. Most of it aligns with his Pre-Collapse simulation data. Millennia ago, the core sectors became uninhabitable due to a Chrono-Rift Anomaly. Only Aethelburg, the last stronghold, escaped the immediate devastation. With resources dwindling, the Imperium excavated a dimensional breach, which eventually became the Void-Scarred Expanse. *Standard. Confirmed.* *Essence Forging Principles: Tier IV*. This data-slate describes the transformation of Essence Shards, harvested from Terrors, into nutrient paste, purified hydro-gel, and synthesized alloys. Malek understands none of the underlying principles. He simply absorbs the information, raw data to be processed later. *The Unification Campaigns: Sector Three*. This provides details on the Synth-Folk, their uneasy alliance with the Unsanctioned Factions, and the nature of Void-Entities. People are aware of Void-Entities: extra-dimensional parasites capable of body-snatching. *Not incorrect, strictly speaking.* Malek himself is a Chrono-Echo, a variant of the same phenomenon. *Void-Entities: A Proscribed Compendium*. Unfortunately, this data-slate offers no root cause for the Void-Entities’ appearance. But it meticulously details the Hegemony’s efforts to identify and eradicate them. *Useful tips, for a Void-Entity like myself.* According to the data, as long as he avoids uttering specific banned historical terminology, suspicion is minimal. *No shouting ‘The Sol-Forge.’ No screaming ‘The Genesis Codes.’* He needs to purge those hardwired simulation phrases. *The Evolution of the Unsanctioned*. *The Dual Imperiums of Aethelburg*. *Regarding Heroes and Legends*. *Life in the Bifron Exclusion Zone*. He accumulates the necessary data, feeding his internal analytical matrix. *The Fall of Imperator Vash III*. This data-slate details the demise of Vash III, known as the First Imperator, or the Ever-Vigilant. The various conspiracies and resultant power shifts hold little interest for Malek. What matters is the timeline. *Date…* He scans, his eyes burning. “150 cycles ago?” His hypothesis solidifies into grim reality. The Imperator’s death occurred roughly 150 years prior to the standard starting timeline of the Pre-Collapse simulations. *This isn't a variant reality. This is the future. One hundred and fifty years out of sync.* A cold dread coils in his gut, quickly suppressed by a wave of detached resignation. *Damn it. This archive is my new cage, for now.* He closes the data-slate, resting his burning optical sensors. Even with the interface filtering, skimming a dozen data-slates in rapid succession strains his systems. Still, two more remain. *Push through. Critical data may be overlooked.* *Chrono-Rift Anomaly Log*. Was this the data Flicker had mentioned? It contains statistics and case studies similar to his own. Falling into the outermost zone is a century-scale event. “Bullshit.” Based on his experience, the actual frequency must be far higher. Most victims simply don't survive long enough to log their entry. The remaining data is statistical noise. He skips to the final chapter. The author’s reasoning: *entering at the precise moment of portal collapse may correlate with temporal instability.* If true… *A self-inflicted wound, then. How fitting.* He moves to the last data-slate. *Grade-9 Bio-Core Taxonomy*. This is an organized compendium describing the abilities of Essence Cores harvested from Grade-9 Terrors. Unlike the Pre-Collapse data, there are no precise numerical values. *[Goblin: Threat Level – Medium].* Medium appears to signify a baseline stat of twenty-one or higher. High-grade standards are left undefined. The introductory guide states that data on Grade-8 and above must be purchased from the Hegemony Sanctioned Bounty Network. Malek closes the final data-slate. The information now resides within him. The fear is still there, a constant hum beneath his calculated exterior, but the ambition, the drive to survive and conquer, remains a colder, sharper force. He begins to formulate new strategies, leveraging the newly acquired data. The Iron Hegemony is a complex organism, and he, Malek, is now its most dangerous, calculating parasite.

The Data Vault and the Chrono-Echoes