The Exiles emerged from the shadows like specters, their makeshift weapons glinting in the dim firelight. They formed a loose, threatening circle around us. There were five of them, plus Glitch. Each one was a unique collection of scavenged parts and grim determination. They were the forgotten inhabitants of this digital purgatory, and we had just trespassed on their delicate peace.
"You've put us all at risk," Glitch rasped, his red optic eyes burning with accusation. He gestured around the cavern with his staff. "This place, the Undercroft, it survives because it is quiet. It is a shadow. A piece of code the System has forgotten about. But you... you just went and kicked the Warden's door."
He took a menacing step forward. "The System now has a scar. A wound. It will look for the source of that wound. It will trace the connection back here. You've brought the eye of the storm right to our doorstep."
One of the other Exiles, a large brute with a massive, hydraulic claw for an arm, slammed his metal fist against a server rack. The sound echoed through the cavern. "We should throw them out," he boomed, his voice a distorted growl from a cheap speaker in his chest. "Let the System have them. They are not our problem."
The others muttered in agreement. They were hostile, afraid. And I understood why. We had endangered their sanctuary, the only home they had.
Anya pushed herself up, leaning heavily against the server rack. She tried to aim her pistol, but her hands were shaking. She was in no condition to fight. I put a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back. Violence was not the answer here. This was not a fight I could win with a gun. This was a negotiation. A sales pitch for our very lives.
"He's right," I said, my voice calm and clear, addressing Glitch directly. Every Exile turned to look at me. "We did bring danger here. I won't deny that. But we also brought something else."
I materialized the [Exile's Path: Fragment Alpha]. The glowing blue crystal pulsed in my hand, its clean, orderly light a stark contrast to the dim, chaotic Undercroft.
"This isn't just about me escaping," I said, my voice ringing with a conviction I truly felt. "This is Caden's work. This is a map. A way out of the game. A way out for everyone."
I looked from Glitch to the other Exiles, meeting their glowing cybernetic eyes one by one. "You've survived here by hiding. By scavenging. But that's not living. It's just... waiting. This fragment is a chance for a real life. A chance to go home."
Glitch was silent for a long moment. He was a pragmatist, a creature of logic and survival. I could see the gears turning behind his red eyes. He was intrigued by the promise of escape, but terrified of the risk.
"Words are cheap," he finally rasped. "Hope is a currency we don't trade in down here. You have a piece of a map. You have made yourself an enemy of the System. You are a liability."
"I am a key," I countered, my voice firm. "I am the only one who can do this. The Oracle needs me to plug this fragment into the live servers. I am the only one who can get the rest of the map. I am your only hope of true freedom. But I can't do it alone. I need your help. Or at the very least, I need you to not stand in my way."
The big Exile with the hydraulic claw took a step forward. "Help you? We should crush you and take the fragment for ourselves!"
"And what would you do with it?" I shot back, turning to face him. "The Oracle needs a player with my status, a 'Marked Man,' to access the servers. The System is looking for me. It will give me access where it would delete you on sight. You need me, whether you like it or not."
My words hit their mark. The Exiles looked at each other, a new uncertainty in their mechanical postures. I had turned my greatest weakness, my "Anathema" status, into my greatest strength.
Glitch raised his hand, silencing the others. He hobbled closer to me, his red eyes scanning the data fragment, then me. "The boy makes a logical point," he said. He was all business now. The threat had subsided, replaced by negotiation. "A direct alliance is too risky. We will not fight your battles for you. But... casting you out would be a waste of a potential asset."
He proposed a new deal. A new set of rules for our unstable alliance.
"You and your wounded friend may have continued sanctuary in the Undercroft," he declared. "We will not hinder you. We will let you use this hub to rest and prepare between your... missions."
He paused, leaning heavily on his staff. "But sanctuary has a price. This place runs on scavenged parts and clean data. If you are going to be bringing the heat down on us, you are going to pay a tax for our trouble."
"What kind of tax?" Anya asked, her voice wary.
"You are the only one here who regularly enters the 'clean' world," Glitch said, pointing at me. "The arenas are filled with system-minted items. We need them. Ammunition. Armor plating. And most of all..." he looked at Anya's glitching leg, "...medical supplies. Med-Syringes are worth more than gold down here."
The deal was clear. He wanted us to loot our matches, to bring back supplies to pay for our safety. My matches were no longer just about my own survival or my quest. They were now supply runs for an entire community of outcasts.
I looked at Anya. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. We had no other choice. "We agree," I said.
"Good," Glitch rasped. "Then your first payment can be information." He gestured to Anya's leg. "The Oracle needs components from 'Cleaner' maintenance drones, yes? Those drones only activate on maps undergoing a 'System Sterilization' protocol. A very rare event. Very dangerous." He tapped a few commands into a datapad on his arm. A notification appeared on my HUD, marking a potential match type. "Keep an eye out for that map type. It's your best chance to find what you need."
Just as the deal was struck, the world around me and Anya began to glow with that familiar, inescapable blue light. The System was pulling us into our next scheduled match. We were being summoned.
Glitch and his Exiles took a step back, their forms becoming blurry as the teleportation sequence initiated.
"Time to pay your first tax, Marked Man," Glitch's voice echoed as we faded away. "Don't come back empty-handed."
The Oracle's voice then whispered in my mind, a final piece of information she must have transferred to me before we left. A crucial detail for the next step of the Exile's Path.
"The next server is on Titan Hangar. But the server room is protected by a quantum-locked door. It requires two simultaneous authorizations. You'll need two people to press two separate panels at the exact same time to open it."
The teleportation completed. The white light of the new staging area solidified around us. We were in a Duos match. We were a team. I felt a small sense of relief. The quantum-locked door would not be a problem.
But then I looked at the lobby list. I saw who we were matched against.
A two-person team from Ouroboros.
One of them was a massive brute I did not recognize, with the name "Goliath." He was listed as the new faction leader.
And the other... my blood ran cold. The other player was Kain.
He was alive. He was standing across the staging area, his Ouroboros armor repaired. He was not respawned by a system mercy. He must have had a backup. A second chance. And he was staring right at me.
There was no smirk on his face this time. Only a look of pure, undiluted hatred. He slowly raised his hand, pointed a single finger at me, and then drew it across his own throat.