Ali stepped through the now-dormant defences, the faint hum of recently deactivated security tech still lingering in the air. The robot ahead climbed the stairs with unnerving smoothness, its joints moving with near-human fluidity. Ali followed, his sharp eyes studying the machine's every motion.
'No delay between motion cues. No mechanical lag. That's not normal… it moves like it's an actual human,' Ali thought, narrowing his eyes.
They reached the second floor. At the far end of the hall was a single steel-reinforced door—featureless except for two long rows of automated machine guns mounted on either side. The moment Ali stepped into the line of sight, every barrel rotated toward him. Thin red lasers danced across his forehead.
He didn't blink.
Above the door, a thin horizontal strip of light scanned the robot's core as it approached. The line flickered from blue to green. Then, a click sounded—locks sliding free with a hydraulic hiss.
'Overkill… especially on a level where killing's banned. Someone's paranoid,' Ali thought with a half-smirk.
The robot placed a metallic hand on the door and pushed. The thick slab groaned open.
Inside was something out of a cybernetic fever dream. Dozens of thick carbon fibre tubes glowed with electric blue light, branching out like arteries from a massive supercomputer mounted against the wall. From that computer, a single primary tube extended toward a tall, cylindrical pod filled with chilled water and floating ice.
Suspended within was a boy. Thin. Fragile. No older than seventeen.
HAAAAAAAH
With a shuddering breath, the boy emerged from the water like a drowned phoenix gasping for life. He instinctively reached behind his head and pulled out the thick black cable that was lodged in his spinal port. The wet pop of synthetic tissue disconnecting from metal echoed in the cold silence. It was the kind of moment that might have made a lesser man recoil.
Ali didn't even blink.
The boy's black hair was plastered to his face. His pale skin was covered in glowing lines that pulsed softly beneath his skin, trailing from beneath his eyes and down his throat—circuitry woven through flesh.
HAAH—HAAH
Still recovering, the boy tried to push himself upright. The robot that had escorted Ali stepped forward, supporting its creator with calm precision, helping him onto a desk chair facing a wall of screens.
On those monitors were live feeds from all across the second level. Streets. Shops. Training halls. Headquarters.
Surveillance.
Ali's presence filled the room like a storm cloud.
"Your life sits on your next words, kid," Ali said, his voice sharp as a blade's edge.
The boy—Miles—looked up at him with steady eyes, not flinching despite the obvious gap in their size and power.
"I want to enter the gate," Miles said calmly. "And I want you to help me do it."
Ali didn't speak. He simply watched.
"The Tech Guild has forbidden entry," he replied at last. "Especially for their little prodigy apostle."
"They don't know," Miles replied immediately. "If they did, they'd never let me leave this house. But I have my reasons."
He shifted in the chair slightly, wincing at the cold still in his bones.
"The Administrator chose Fantasy. That's not just a disadvantage for Technomancers like me—it's a death sentence. Magic overpowers science on a systemic level. Tech skills are weakened. Artifacts malfunction. There are players—who are boosted in such worlds and would kill me without hesitation," Miles explained. "That's why I need you."
His eyes looked up at Ali with no sign of begging—just clarity.
"You'll protect me."
Ali stepped forward slowly, his expression unreadable. "Show me the footage."
Miles raised a single finger, not even turning to the terminal. A crackle of blue light arced from his fingertip, lancing into the system. Code scrolled across the monitors before the screens flickered—and then lit up with a crystal-clear view from above.
Ali versus Toji.
Everything was there.
The start. The brutality. The damage. The gold circle. The dragon head summoned from Toni's shadow then sliced into pieces.
Ali stood there and watched the whole thing play out.
Miles leaned back in the chair, his chest still rising and falling from the ice chamber. "I'll delete this footage—and any other footage I have of you," he said. "I'll sign a contract myself, enforced by the Judgment Guild."
"In return," Miles continued, "you accept my offer."
Ali didn't speak. His eyes were on the screen, but his mind was somewhere else.
'He'll release it if I refuse. He's not bluffing… The moment I walked in, he was ready to burn everything.' Ali measured Miles' conviction. 'And I don't want others to see this footage right now.'
Miles leaned forward slightly. "And I'll give you something else. A digitised copy of the introductory script of a high-level world. Everything from characters to little details is in it."
Ali's expression didn't change. But internally, he was already recalculating.
'That's… absurd. Most players kill for that. Smaller guilds form around even the rumour of a script,' Ali thought. 'But what does a kid like him want from a Fantasy world anyway?'
He folded his arms, still towering over the boy. "What do you want from a fantasy world, Miles?"
"Two things," Miles began, speaking clearly despite the fatigue still clinging to his voice. "First, materials. Fantasy worlds almost always contain resources far superior to engineered alloys—raw substances that are naturally infused with magical properties. They're perfect for machine cores, chassis, even circuit replacements."
He paused just a moment, gauging Ali's expression before continuing.
"Second… attribute points. With the continuous personal missions triggered in the gate, this is the fastest, most efficient way for me to gain power. I don't want to miss out on that."
It was a logical answer. Precise, and free of anything Ali could label as deceit.
Ali nodded slightly, acknowledging the reasoning. "What if your guild leader finds out I helped you?"
"He won't," Miles replied immediately. "I've removed every trace. No signals. No paths that lead back to you. It's impossible—unless you say something yourself."
Ali tilted his head, studying the boy a moment longer. "I won't form a team with you."
"You don't need to," Miles said with a small smile, snapping his fingers.
A slim sheet of paper materialised on the table between them, flanked by two thin black necklaces that shimmered faintly in the blue light.
"This is the contract. Once signed, it binds our agreement. And these—" he nodded at the necklaces "—are Shadow Guild artifacts. They'll ensure we're summoned into the world within five kilometres of each other, no matter where we land."
Ali looked at the contract, then back at the boy.
"Before I sign it… Tell me what you can actually do. You've seen everything I'm capable of, but I know next to nothing about you. I won't partner with a fragile kid who can't hold his own."
Miles didn't hesitate. "I'm a Technomancer. But more than that—I'm a coder. In a world with even a trace of infrastructure, I can rewrite the rules. Unfortunately, Fantasy nullifies that advantage. So I'll be limited to raw assets."
He gestured to the robot standing silently beside Ali.
"I'll bring one main combat unit. It can defeat most rankers between 10,000 and 4,000. I also have stealth drones—camouflaged, airborne, armed. They can scout or self-destruct on command. I can manufacture more with enough time and materials… assuming we find a stable location where I can build a proper signal network. Routers, boosters—anything to expand my reach and reduce technomantic strain."
Ali narrowed his eyes. "So in other words…"
He stepped closer to the desk.
"You're frail. A gust of wind could send you flying. You'd probably pass out if you walked more than ten steps. You need one place to anchor down or you're useless. Your robot's strength is wasted because it'll never leave your side. You're hunted—both as a tech guild apostle. And—"
Ali's tone flattened further. "—you're a kid."
Miles, unfazed, met his eyes. "Is that a yes, or a no?"
Ali didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up the pen beside the contract and signed it in one fluid motion.
The moment the ink met paper, the contract glowed faintly and dissolved into particles of blue light—its terms locked and enforced. A notification pulsed in Ali's interface, confirming the binding agreement.
"You'll follow my lead. Obey my orders until I find a place stable enough for you to set up. And if it ever comes down to it… I'll choose my life over yours. No hesitation."
"I understand." Miles nodded, no complaint or emotion in his voice. "Can I ask one last question?"
Ali paused, hand hovering over one of the necklaces. "Go on."
Miles leaned forward slightly. "How did you get the regeneration?"
Ali didn't answer with words. He picked up one of the black necklaces and turned his back.
"I'll see you on the other side of the gate," he said, voice cold as steel.
Then, without another glance, he walked out.
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