Khal Dreikov stirred from sleep, breath uneven. His eyes opened not to light, but to the rhythmic rocking of a caravan wagon—wood creaking, wheels biting into the morning soil.
For a moment, there was calm. Birds chirped. The scent of damp pine filled his nostrils. He looked to his left—Lira was sitting nearby, polishing her short blade, humming a tune that made his chest ache with something he couldn’t name.
He shifted to sit up, muscles sore. The training with Brovik had become borderline abusive—swing, parry, roll, fail, again. But the results were beginning to show.
[System Notice: Physical Dexterity +1] [System Notice: Adaptive Combat Analysis - Minor Trait Activated]
He blinked. "Minor trait?"
Lira looked over. "You talking to your invisible friend again?"
"No... I mean yes. I think I unlocked something."
She tossed him a canteen. "Hope it tells you not to flinch when a squirrel attacks."
He grinned despite himself, rubbing his temple. But something gnawed at the back of his mind—a sliver of unease he couldn’t explain. The dream he had just woken from lingered: webs, whispers, a voice that knew his name before he ever spoke it.
That Afternoon
The caravan moved slowly, escorted by three wagons and a rotating group of hired guards. Khal had taken it upon himself to help, lifting crates, organizing supplies, anything to stay moving and learn something.
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But strange things began to happen.
A quest appeared that no one else could see:
[Hidden Quest: 'Bait the Hook'] Objective: Locate the broken blade beneath the rotted altar. Reward: ??? Penalty for refusal: Trait degradation.
Khal furrowed his brow.
“Rotted altar?” he whispered.
When he followed the map marker embedded into his vision, he found only a hollow stump filled with moss. No altar. No blade. Nothing.
He reported it to Lira. She found nothing.
That night, another message blinked in his interface—slightly different font. Almost… mocking.
[Progress Logged: Player response to false marker #1]
His blood went cold.
Later that Night
Khal sat alone under the stars, the crackling fire nearby barely touching the chill coiling in his chest.
He wasn’t paranoid. He knew something was watching him.
“Why would the system lie to me?” he muttered.
[System Query: You are interacting with a forked interface. Would you like to request diagnostic access?] Y/N
He hovered over Y.
[Request Denied: Insufficient clearance.]
He clenched his fists. “Who has clearance above the user?”
Then came another pop-up—brief, flickering:
[Some puppets think they are puppeteers. Keep climbing. Keep breaking. Let’s see what you ruin next.]
Gone.
Lira approached. “You’re shaking. Cold?”
He shook his head. “No. I think... I think someone’s playing with the System.”
She sat beside him.
“Then you better learn to play dirtier.”
Elsewhere…
Mirek Hollowthorn watched through a crystal shard. The boy had begun to feel the threads.
He turned to Velka.
"Two more false quests. Then we'll introduce a real one. Let him think he found it himself."
"And the trait instability?"
"Escalate it gently. It’ll make him desperate enough to exploit the system without understanding the cost."
He folded his hands behind his back, smiling as he stared into the dark.
"Soon enough, he’ll be the one pulling strings for us."