CHAPTER 2: THE WARDEN’S ARCHIVE

The television’s muted glow flickered across the small living room.

A figure stood in the middle of it, his exhaustion a physical weight in the room, radiating outwards. This was Marcus. This was Tired Dad Mode.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t rage. He just looked at Michael.

"Times Square," Marcus said, his voice quiet, a low whisper that carried immense pressure. "The news said it was a Class-3 Gate."

"I’m fine, Dad," Michael said automatically. He couldn’t meet his father’s gaze, his eyes fixed on a scuff mark on the dirty floor.

"Are you?"

Marcus took a single step forward and the atmosphere in the room warped. The Tired Dad mask flickered and for a fraction of a second, the S-Rank Hunter looked out. His eyes weren’t just looking at Michael; they were scanning him, analyzing him for damage.

"No scratches? No mana burns? The report said a civilian engaged with an Alpha." The words were short, clipped, tactical.

"The Hunter got there in time," Michael repeated, the lie feeling flimsy and pathetic. "I just... distracted it."

Marcus’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering along his face. The S-Rank was bleeding through again. "Distracting an Alpha Gutterfang is what gets people killed, Michael."

His voice was still quiet, but it had an edge now, sharp as a broken blade. "It’s what got..."

He stopped, but the name hung unspoken in the air. Elara. His mother.

"Don’t," Michael’s voice was sharp. "Just don’t." He brushed past his father, the weight of his secret pressing down on him, and locked himself in his room.

He collapsed onto his bed, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. "System," he whispered, the single word a desperate prayer.

A blue screen flickered to life in his vision.

Systems are Augmented Reality Interfaces that rewrite a user’s reality according to a set of ancient rules. Having various effects like strengthening the body, granting skills, and with luck, allowing a user to see and absorb Raw Mana.

The main function of a System is to allow a user to quantify their existence into data. Stats, Levels, and Skills are simplified translations for the modern mind to process.

Michael focused his will. Status.

A window materialized before him.

[STATUS]

Name:Michael Arcana

Level: 1

Rank: Unranked (Civilian)

Title: Last Scion

HP (Health Points): 100/100

EP (Energy Points): 15/15

STATS:

Strength: 7

Agility: 9

Stamina: 8

Intelligence: 14

Sense: 11

Mana: 0

Laughably weak. A zero in Mana? He was just a baseline human with a fancy user interface. He mentally navigated to the [Skills] tab. It was a vast tree of abilities, all grayed out and locked. At the very top, a single node pulsed.

[Michaelro-Arcana: Bloodline Trait (Passive)]

Description: The ability to interface with and command the System. All other abilities stem from this root. Higher functions are currently sealed.

Sealed. Just like his father’s past.

He navigated to [Quests]. The "Survive" quest was marked complete. Below it was a new, terrifying entry.

[MAIN QUEST: THE EVER-GATE’S ECHO]

Description: Your mother, Elara, was lost during the catastrophic failure of the ’Ever-Gate’ fifteen years ago. The System holds fragmented data related to the incident. Uncover the truth of what happened and find the echo she left behind.

Objective 1: Reach D-Rank.

Objective 2: ???

Find her.

The words struck him like a physical blow, and the cynical gamer persona dissolved.

For fifteen years, she had been a ghost, a forbidden topic.

Now, a machine in his head was giving him a quest to find her. Hope, sharp and painful, pierced through him. His hands were shaking.

He explored the last tab. [LEGACY ARCHIVE].

[ACCESS DENIED. USER RANK INSUFFICIENT.]

[WARNING: CORRUPTED DATA PACKET DETECTED...EXECUTING SUB-ROUTINE...]

A new voice echoed in his mind, ancient and tinged with weary amusement. "Well now, it’s been a long time since anyone knocked on this door. A child, no less. The last of Elara’s line. How wonderfully tragic."

"Who are you?" Michael thought, his mind racing.

"I am a fragment. A warden, if you will. The System is the engine, but I am the ghost in its machine. It is the Michaelro-Arcana Interface, a tool of immense power left by your maternal ancestors."

This was the legendary NPC who explained the game’s lore.

"The quest... how do I reach D-Rank?"

"By doing what Hunters do, of course," the Warden’s voice hummed. "You must hunt. You must absorb Raw Mana from monsters slain within a Gate. You must temper your soul in combat and forge a Mana Core."

Michael’s heart sank. It was the one thing his father would never allow.

"There is a safer way to begin," the Warden offered. "A training ground. The Simulation Chamber. It will not grant you Raw Mana, but it will teach you how to fight."

[SIMULATION CHAMBER UNLOCKED]

[ENTER?]

He focused his will. ENTER.

His bedroom vanished, replaced by a vast, white grid that stretched to an infinite horizon.

[ENTERING SIMULATION 1-1: BASIC COMBAT TUTORIAL]

[ENEMY: LV. 1 SIM-SLIME]

A blob of shimmering code coalesced in front of him. It jiggled pathetically.

"Your first opponent," the Warden said dryly. "Try not to be too embarrassed when it defeats you."

Michael scoffed and charged.

Humiliatingly, the slime defeated him.

He spent what felt like hours grinding, dying a dozen painless but virtual deaths before he finally won.

Splat!

[SIM-SLIME DEFEATED. 1 EXP GAINED.]

[You have gathered enough experience!]

[LEVEL UP! YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 2!]

[All stats +1. You have gained 3 unassigned Stat Points.]

He pushed on, fighting virtual Gutterfangs and giant rats. He was getting faster, better. But after what felt like two days, he hit a wall: a hulking Sim-Bear he couldn’t even scratch.

"You have reached your Synchronization Threshold," the Warden explained. "Your body and the System are out of sync. To truly grow, you need real-world data. You need to absorb a genuine Mana Signature."

He exited the simulation. Only forty-five minutes had passed.

He knew what he had to do. He had to enter a Gate. He had to hunt for real. He had to defy his father and walk the same path that had swallowed his mother. It was insane. It was suicide.

A new notification pinged silently on his HUD, glowing with an urgent red border.

[URGENT QUEST: LOW-RANK GATE MANIFESTED]

[THREAT LEVEL: F]

**[LOCATION: ABANDONED CITY HALL SUBWAY STATION. 2.3 MILES FROM CURRENT POSITION.]**

[TIME UNTIL COLLAPSE: 58:34]