The sound of boots pounding on metal grated in Leo's ears, echoing through the shattered corridors like a death knell. The Régime's patrol was close—too close. Shadows leapt at every flicker of Aïcha's staff, the runes etched into its length glowing dimly with each hurried step.
"Faster," Leo growled, his voice low and ragged. His pulse raced, the System's cold power simmering beneath his skin like a beast on a leash.
Camille limped behind him, his breathing ragged. The thin black scar on his cheek—Leo's doing—stood out starkly against his pale skin. Every time Leo's eyes fell on it, guilt twisted in his gut.
"I'm—trying," Camille panted, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Just—give me—"
"No time," Aïcha cut in, her tone sharp. "They're right behind us."
A burst of gunfire rattled through the tunnels, a staccato beat that set Leo's teeth on edge. The Régime's patrol was methodical, disciplined—a pack of predators hunting wounded prey.
Leo's knuckles whitened on his machete. He could feel the System's voice whispering at the edge of his thoughts, promising strength, an easy kill.
Let me in, it purred. You can end this.
He clenched his jaw. "Not yet," he muttered.
They rounded a corner, the tunnel opening into a vast chamber lined with broken columns and shattered stained glass. Once, it might have been a grand library; now it was a ruin of crumbling shelves and drifting ash.
Aïcha's staff cast a trembling light across rows of books half-eaten by time. "Here," she said, voice low. "If the old records are right, this place held archives—histories of the System, of the Judgement."
Leo's breath came in harsh gasps. "And you waited until now to tell us?"
Aïcha's eyes met his, defiant. "I didn't know we'd end up running for our lives."
Camille collapsed against a broken pillar, one hand pressed to his cheek. "Can we—just rest—a second—?"
A scream echoed behind them, a sound that scraped Leo's spine raw. The patrol was close, too close.
"No time," Leo growled. He scanned the shadows, searching for anything that might offer cover. His eyes landed on a half-collapsed archway leading deeper into the library's belly. "There," he said, pointing. "Move."
Aïcha didn't argue. She pulled Camille to his feet, the boy's legs shaking beneath him. Together, they stumbled through the archway, the darkness swallowing them whole.
Leo's mind buzzed with the System's pulse, each beat louder than the last. The darkness pressed closer, like a living thing waiting to pounce.
Use me, the voice whispered. Let me make you strong.
He gritted his teeth. Not yet.
They disappeared into the shadows, the Régime's boots hammering the stone behind them.
Dust choked the air, each breath heavy with the scent of decay. Leo led the way, his machete raised, eyes darting across rows of shelves that leaned like drunks in the dark. Cobwebs hung like funeral shrouds, every surface layered in centuries of neglect.
Aïcha's staff cast a wan glow, painting the broken floor in trembling light. Her eyes were sharp, scanning every shadow. "This place is old," she murmured, voice hushed as if the walls themselves were listening. "Older than the Collapse."
Camille clutched his cheek, where the thin black scar still oozed a faint darkness. His eyes were wide, every movement uncertain. "Leo…," he began, but his voice faltered.
Leo didn't look back. He could feel the System pulsing in his veins—a cold, alien rhythm. Shadows shifted at the edges of his vision, shapes that shouldn't exist. "We keep moving," he said, voice flat. "We need answers."
A sound—like a book sliding from a shelf—made him spin, machete at the ready. Nothing but dust and darkness.
"Careful," Aïcha warned. "This place might be warded. Old magic, old traps."
Leo grunted. "Let them try."
They reached the far end of the library, where a massive stone table stood beneath a collapsed dome. Faded symbols crawled across its surface—runes Leo didn't recognize, their shapes shifting in the staff's light.
Aïcha approached, her fingers brushing the carvings. "This is old. Very old. Pre-System, maybe."
Leo's eyes narrowed. "What does it say?"
Aïcha's brow furrowed. "It's a warning. Something about…'the seed of judgment'…'the price of power.' It's not complete."
Camille let out a strangled sound. Leo turned just in time to catch him as his legs gave out. The boy's face was pale, the black scar on his cheek spreading like ink.
"Camille!" Leo hissed. He lowered him to the ground, eyes wide. "What's happening to him?"
Aïcha knelt beside them, her staff trembling. "That mark you gave him… it's feeding on his energy. The System's corruption. I—I've seen this before."
Leo's stomach twisted. "Can you stop it?"
Aïcha shook her head, eyes fierce. "I can slow it, but not here. We need to get him out."
Camille's hand trembled, reaching for Leo. "Leo… I—I don't… want to die down here…"
Leo's jaw clenched. "You won't," he growled. The darkness inside him surged, hungry, eager to devour.
Use me, it whispered. I can save him. I can save all of them.
He wanted to believe it. Gods, he wanted to.
Aïcha's eyes met his, sharp and knowing. "Don't you dare," she hissed.
Leo's hands trembled. "I have to—"
"No," she snapped. "If you give in now, we all die."
Silence settled, heavy and suffocating.
The System pulsed, cold and patient.
Leo forced a breath. "Then we move. We find another way."
Aïcha nodded. "There's a lower passage—records vaults. Maybe… maybe there's something there."
Leo lifted Camille in his arms. The boy's head lolled against his chest. "Lead the way," he said, voice hard.
Together, they turned their backs on the table and the shifting runes, descending deeper into the darkness, the System's whispers following like a promise.
The lower vaults felt colder than death, the air heavy with damp and the scent of old paper and rust. Leo's boots crunched on broken glass and ancient scrolls turned to dust. Camille lay limp in his arms, breathing shallow, every exhale a battle.
Aïcha's staff glowed softly, casting broken shadows on the walls—shadows that shifted, shapes that felt wrong even when he blinked.
"This place…" she murmured, eyes scanning the darkness. "I can feel the wards. Whatever they kept here—it wasn't meant for mortal eyes."
Leo ignored her, focusing on the corridor ahead. Every step felt heavier, as if the shadows themselves dragged at his feet. The System pulsed inside him, slow and deliberate—a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
You're weak, it whispered, a voice made of ice and broken glass. You let them suffer. Let me in, and I'll save them.
He clenched his teeth. "No," he hissed.
A shape loomed at the end of the corridor—a tall, cracked mirror, its frame warped and tarnished. A jagged fracture ran down its center, like a wound that would never heal.
Aïcha's staff flickered. "Leo, don't—"
But the darkness coiled tighter, dragging him forward. His boots scraped on the stone, his pulse roaring in his ears. He felt Camille's weight in his arms, every labored breath like a dagger in his chest.
He stood before the mirror, breath ragged. His reflection stared back—a tattered figure in a torn jacket, eyes sunken, hair matted with sweat and grime. But something was wrong.
The reflection moved on its own, head tilting, a grin splitting its face. Its eyes glowed black, shadows leaking from the corners like tears.
"Hello, Leo," it purred, voice dripping with malice. "You look… tired."
Leo's heart stuttered. "What the hell are you?"
The reflection's grin widened. "I'm you, Leo. The you that's strong enough to save them. The you that doesn't hesitate."
"I'll never be you," Leo spat, his voice hoarse.
The thing in the mirror laughed—a sound like shattering glass. "You already are," it whispered. "Every time you call on me, every time you listen, I grow stronger."
Leo's hands trembled. Camille's breathing hitched, weak and ragged. Aïcha's staff crackled with light, her voice distant, as if coming from underwater. "Leo—don't listen to it—"
The reflection pressed its hand to the glass. Shadows crawled along its fingers, reaching for him. "Give in," it crooned. "You're too weak to save them without me."
The System's pulse thundered in his veins. He felt its power, cold and intoxicating, promising an end to the fear, the guilt.
"Leo!" Aïcha's voice, sharp, urgent.
His eyes snapped to hers, and for a heartbeat, the darkness recoiled. Her gaze was fierce, unwavering. "Fight it," she hissed.
Leo roared—a sound of rage and defiance—and swung the machete. The blade crashed through the mirror, shattering the glass into a thousand screaming pieces.
Shards rained down, cutting into his skin, but he didn't stop. He kept swinging until nothing remained but twisted metal and blackened dust.
The darkness receded, leaving him breathless and shaking. Camille whimpered in his arms.
Aïcha's staff lowered, her eyes wide but resolute. "You're stronger than it," she said.
Leo's chest heaved. "Not by much."
Shadows still lingered in the corners of his vision, but for now, he held them at bay.
Leo's breath rattled in his chest as the last shards of the mirror clattered to the ground, glinting like malevolent stars. Dust hung thick in the air, every breath a battle. Camille whimpered in his arms, his pulse a fragile thread.
Aïcha stepped forward, staff lowered, her eyes hard. "Leo," she said, voice tight. "You almost gave in."
Leo's jaw clenched. "I didn't."
She glared at him, the staff's glow casting harsh shadows across her face. "You listened to it. That… thing. The System. You let it in."
Leo's fingers flexed around the hilt of the machete. "I fought it," he growled. "I broke the mirror. I won."
Her eyes narrowed, searching his face for any crack. "Did you?" she asked, voice low. "Because I saw your eyes, Leo. They weren't yours."
The darkness pulsed inside him—a low, mocking laugh that only he could hear. His hands trembled. "I'm still me," he rasped.
Camille stirred, his voice thin. "Leo… please… don't fight…"
Leo's chest tightened. "I'm trying," he whispered.
Aïcha's staff crackled with energy. "We need to know we can trust you. If the System takes you, we're dead."
Leo's eyes met hers, his gaze hardening. "You think I don't know that? You think I want this?"
She didn't flinch. "No. But I think you underestimate it. The System doesn't just want your power. It wants you. All of you."
Silence fell, heavy and sharp. Leo's knuckles whitened around the machete. The shadows at the edges of his vision seemed to dance, mocking him.
Camille coughed, weak but insistent. "Please… stop fighting… We need each other."
Leo looked down at the boy, guilt gnawing at his gut. He'd marked Camille—scarred him. And yet the kid still looked at him like he was worth something.
Aïcha's expression softened, but only for a moment. "We're in this together," she said, voice low. "But if you lose control—if you let that thing win—I'll stop you."
Leo's eyes narrowed. "You'd kill me?"
Her jaw tightened. "If I have to."
The System pulsed, cold and eager. Let her try, it hissed.
Leo's breath hitched. "Then let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Aïcha's staff dimmed. "Agreed."
Leo's gaze drifted to the darkness beyond them. "We need to move. The Régime's still out there. And now they know we're down here."
Aïcha nodded, her expression unreadable. "Then let's get Camille to safety. And after that—"
Leo's voice was a growl. "We finish this."
Together, but with a rift between them that no words could mend—not yet—they plunged deeper into the darkness.
The darkness deepened, a suffocating weight that pressed down on every step. The tunnels twisted and split like the veins of a dying beast, each passageway echoing with distant roars and the drip of water from cracked pipes.
Camille's breathing grew ragged, his head lolling against Leo's shoulder as he carried him. The black scar on the boy's cheek seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a reminder of the System's reach.
Aïcha moved ahead, her staff casting a dim glow that barely pushed back the shadows. Her face was drawn, eyes hard, every step tense.
Leo's own breath came in harsh gasps. The System thrummed inside him—a cold, insistent drumbeat that threatened to drown out everything else. He fought it with every scrap of will he had left, but each heartbeat felt like a nail being driven into his soul.
A sudden sound—a scrape of boots on stone—made him freeze.
Aïcha's staff stilled. She turned, eyes wide. "They're here," she hissed.
From the darkness ahead, a figure emerged—a tall, armored silhouette that moved with a predator's grace. The glow from Aïcha's staff revealed a black cloak draped over the figure's shoulders, its hood drawn low over a face hidden by a mask of burnished iron.
Leo felt the System recoil and then surge with excitement. Kill him, it urged, the voice a seductive hiss. End the threat.
The hunter's voice was cold, mechanical. "Leo Dormien," he said, each word like a blade. "You are marked for Judgment."
Leo's grip on the machete tightened. "You want me?" he growled. "Come and get me."
The hunter tilted his head, studying Leo like a scientist studying a specimen. "The System is inside you. We will extract it."
Behind him, Camille moaned. Aïcha's staff crackled with a faint hum. "Leo—"
Leo's vision blurred. The darkness inside him writhed, eager. Shadows flickered at the edges of his sight, forming tendrils that licked the ground.
The hunter stepped forward. "Surrender, and your death will be swift."
Leo's laugh was low, dark. "I'm not much for surrender."
The hunter moved—too fast, a blur of steel and shadow. Leo barely raised his machete in time to block the first strike. Sparks flew. Pain flared in his shoulder.
The System screamed inside him. Use me. Let me fight.
Leo's breath ragged, he felt the shadows surge. His hands moved without thought, weaving darkness like a blade. The machete struck with impossible force, black tendrils lashing the hunter.
The hunter staggered, his mask cracking. "Interesting," he rasped. "But incomplete."
Leo roared, darkness exploding from his core. The world blurred—a rush of shadows and teeth and rage. He felt himself slipping, the System's voice merging with his own.
Kill him. Kill them all.
A scream—Aïcha's voice—pierced the fog. "Leo! Don't!"
He hesitated, the darkness hesitated. The hunter lunged, blade aimed for Leo's heart.
Leo's eyes widened, every muscle screaming. The world tilted.
And then—
Everything went black.