Somewhere in the Cracked Data Wastes – Three Days Later
The convoy rumbled through the digital desert, a hacked-together crawler caravan that looked like it had been assembled by drunken engineers using spare parts, broken dreams, and spite. Solar panels bolted at stupid angles. Wires trailing like entrails. Every surface etched with weird sigils — a mix of circuit schematics, religious iconography, and corrupted QR codes.
They were nearing the Red Zone.
That's where the Cult of the First Code nested — a faction obsessed with AI purity, digital resurrection, and their warped gospel: All consciousness is simulation. The flesh is error.
Ethan read the file again, the one Maya had decrypted from a dead ex-cultist's implant.
The Source Protocol lies beneath the Obsidian Shrine.
One must offer code and blood.
All hail the Prime Loop.
Whatever that meant, it wasn't good.
Inside the Crawler – 2:11 AM
