“I do not fear invaders from the stars, nor enemies driven by hunger or desperation.

  Those threats announce themselves.”

  “I fear the ones who observe, catalog, and wait.

  Because they only strike once the outcome is already decided.”

  — Midorikawa Hirotaka, Founder of Midorikawa Corp

  Comma was already sprinting back up the stairs, taking them two at a time with the energy only a gleeful younger sister could muster. I followed, half-scared and half-furious, my boots clomping against the steps loud enough that she glanced back with that infuriating grin still plastered across her face.

  “Comma—” I started, but she was already through the doorway into the living room.

  I emerged behind her and stopped dead.

  Dante sat in a chair, looking completely at ease. He’d removed his jacket, revealing a tactical shirt that probably cost more than my entire order had. In his hands was a delicate porcelain teacup, steam rising gently from whatever was inside.

  He held it with the same casual expression he probably used when handling weapons.

  Mom sat across from him on the sofa, her own teacup resting on the side table, taking sips periodically. She looked... not relaxed, exactly, but resigned. Like she’d already fought this battle and lost before I’d even arrived.

  Comma dove onto the couch beside Mom, curling into the corner and immediately pulling out her holoband. But I could see her eyes flicking up every few seconds, tracking the conversation even as she pretended to scroll through whatever feed occupied her attention.

  Dante’s gaze found me, and he smiled.

  Not the almost-smile from the garden. A real one, warm and familiar, which made my stomach drop for entirely different reasons.

  I remembered that smile. From when I was twelve and Grandpa had decided I needed to learn “operational security” because I’d almost overheard something I shouldn’t have during a workshop visit.

  Dante had spent three weeks teaching me—well, his words—though “drilling into my skull through repetition and mild psychological torture” felt more accurate.

  How to keep my mouth shut, how to recognize when I was being probed for information, how to lie convincingly when necessary. And at the end, he handed me a pistol with a choice that wasn’t really a choice: standard S4 clearance protocol required proving loyalty to Kallum.

  The man zip-tied to the chair had been the proof.

  I’d been twelve.

  That memory wasn’t exactly my favorite, and the smile meant he was about to teach me something, whether or not I wanted to learn it. “Dash,” he said. “Heard you fought incursions.”

  Mom’s teacup clinked against its saucer as she set it down with more force than necessary. “Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair opposite Dante. Her tone left no room for argument. “And Dante, tell him how dangerous it is.”

  I sat, my spine rigid, hands awkwardly resting on my knees. I managed a nod, not trusting my voice. Comma snorted from her corner of the sofa, a sound suspiciously like suppressed laughter. “Comma,” Mom said without looking at her. “Go to your room.”

  “Mooooom!“ The protest was immediate and theatrical. “I was here first! This is the living room! I live here!”

  “Room. Now.”

  “But—”

  Mom turned her head slightly, and whatever expression Comma saw made her deflate instantly. She slumped off the sofa with all the drama of someone being sent to their execution, trudging toward the stairs with heavy footsteps that echoed her displeasure.

  The door to her room slammed shut moments later.

  Silence settled over the living room like fog. Dante took a sip of his tea, completely unbothered. Mom’s fingers drummed once against her armrest before stilling. “Sooo...” I broke first, unable to stand it. “Grandmother asked you to check on me?”

  “Dash.” Mom’s voice cut through whatever response Dante might have given. Her expression was tight, worried in a way that made my chest constrict. “Do you have a license? Diving license?”

  I nodded and fumbled for my license, pulling it from back pocket and tossing it to her. She caught it; her eyes scanned the text, and I watched her face shift from worry to confusion to something harder to read.

  Her brows furrowed. “Dash.” Her voice had gone quiet in the dangerous territory.

  Mom stared at me for a long moment without saying more, then glanced at Dante and held out her hand. He leaned forward slightly, his chrome eye whirring as it focused on the card while taking it.

  He read it in maybe two seconds, then leaned back and casually flicked his hand in my direction.

  “It’s legitimate,” Dante said. “Scavantis doesn’t make mistakes with licensing. If he has it, he earned it.” His gaze settled on me, that warm smile still in place. “Have you dived, Dash? Into a shard?”

  I glanced to the side, suddenly very interested in the pattern on Mom’s decorative throw pillow. “Yes?”

  Mom shot to her feet so fast her teacup rattled on its saucer. “So it’s true!“

  “It was—” I started.

  “You went into a chaos shard?!” Her voice pitched higher. “Dash, those things are—people die in those! Licensed hunters die! You’re—you’re—”

  “It was necessary!” I blurted, raising my hands defensively. “To get the license! Everyone does it! It’s literally part of the certification process!”

  “Everyone with proper training!” Mom shot back. “Everyone who’s been through academy programs! Not mining school students who just—just—” She gestured wildly at me. “—decided to walk into a reality-warping death trap!”

  “I had armor,” I offered weakly. “And weapons. And I survived, so—”

  “Survived.” Mom’s laugh was slightly hysterical. “Oh, wonderful. My son survived something that kills trained professionals. What an achievement!”

  Dante cleared his throat softly, and both of us turned to look at him. He set his teacup down with care, the porcelain clicking against the saucer.

  “If I may,” he said, his tone still conversational but carrying enough weight that Mom actually sat back down. “The boy’s license is legitimate. Which means Scavantis evaluated him and determined he met minimum competency standards.”

  He paused, his chrome eye focusing on me uncomfortably.

  “The question isn’t whether he should have dived,” Dante continued. “He did. It’s done. The question is whether he understands what he’s gotten himself into.” His smile widened slightly. “So, Dash. Do you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

  I swallowed hard. “I... fought incursions and killed them like I killed bugs in the mines. Got my license and started building equipment.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  “That’s what you’ve done,” Dante corrected. “I asked what you understand.”

  The room felt smaller suddenly. “I understand it’s dangerous?”

  “Mm.” Dante picked up his teacup again, taking another sip before continuing. “Dangerous. Yes. But that’s not the interesting part.” He set the cup down. “The interesting part is that you went from ‘failed to manifest’ to ‘licensed diver’ in less than forty-eight hours.”

  Dante’s gaze didn’t leave my face as Mom sat back down, absorbed in her own thoughts.

  “That’s... unusual. Unusual enough to make people ask questions. Unusual enough that it creates attention.” His smile never wavered. “And attention, Dash, is the most dangerous thing you can have in our world.”

  He shifted in his seat. “So I’m going to teach you something, just like your grandfather asked me to years ago. And you’re going to listen very, very carefully.”

  I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

  “Good,” Dante said. “Lesson one: You’re already a target.”

  I scoffed before I could stop myself. The fear of Dante wasn’t gone, would probably never be gone, but I felt the need to defend myself bubbling up through the terror. “I know I’m a target. I’m being drained. Should have over 80% compatibility, and I’m sitting under 20%.”

  Dante’s expression didn’t change, but I saw his chrome eye whir, focusing on my eyes. “Mrs. Lien,” he said, not looking away from me. “I want to talk about the system with Dash. Can we have some space?”

  I glanced at Mom, who was already rising from the sofa. She looked between us, worry flickering across her face, but she nodded. “Talk some sense into him,” she said in a tight voice.

  Dante’s expression softened. “Mrs. Lien. I promise you he’ll be in one piece when we’re done talking.”

  She studied his face for a long moment, then nodded stiffly. Her footsteps faded down the hallway toward the kitchen. The moment the door closed, I continued. “I think I was targeted by a rival corporation. Someone trying to hurt Kallum by weakening the family bloodline, targeting weak links, you know? I’m nobody, but I’m still a Kallum, and—”

  Dante shook his head, cutting me off mid-explanation.

  “I’ve never heard of draining,” he said simply. His tone was conversational, as if he were discussing the weather rather than dismantling my entire theory. “Not saying it’s impossible. Actually, given your change, it’s a fair explanation. But in thirty years of running counter-intelligence? Never heard of it, not once. If it’s true, we're talking about experimental tech. That means a trillion-credit project, not something to be taken lightly.”

  I deflated, slumping back in my chair. “Can you help me?” I asked, desperation creeping into my voice despite my best efforts. “Track down who’s responsible? Find out what they did?”

  Dante’s expression shifted slightly, something that might have been amusement flickering across his face. “Why?”

  “Why?” I repeated, confused. “Because someone’s been actively sabotaging my—”

  “Your clearance is S4,” Dante interrupted, his voice taking on that instructional tone I remembered from years ago. “But your priority is only K1. And that’s only because Katherine gave you store access. Otherwise?” He paused for effect. “Zero.”

  “But I’m—” I tried.

  “Listen, Dash.” He shifted in his chair, perfectly relaxed. “There are rules, and my department is stretched thin. There is a threat to our mining operation on Kalyke. Right now, we have twenty miners, real-miners, not combat-miners, stranded on a moon with failing life support. Why? Who did it?”

  He paused, thinking.

  “Resources are being allocated to extract them before they suffocate and to find out who is responsible. And there are hundreds crisis like this one; someone is indeed targeting us. Even if they also target you, you’re not the only one, and… your life isn’t in danger, unlike thousands of others.”

  His chrome eye locked onto mine. “Do you want to tell me I should prioritize your personal mystery over actual lives? We have a priority for a reason, so our emotions aren’t impeding company interests.”

  The words hit like a physical blow.

  I swallowed hard. “I get it. I haven’t proved my value to Kallum.”

  “Good.” Dante nodded, and there was approval in his voice. “I see your teaching wasn’t for naught; Eldon would be disappointed otherwise. You understand corporate politics.” He picked up his teacup again, examining the contents before continuing. “If Katherine wants to give you her personal resources for free, nobody is stopping her. I won’t be that generous.”

  I glanced at him, trying to read past that pleasant smile. “What do you want?”

  Dante’s smirk widened. “Kallum has a weak presence in Tago. Despite expansion not being my area of responsibility, I’m willing to offer you a deal.” He paused, and something in his expression softened. “For your grandfather. May he rest in peace.”

  I gritted my teeth, forcing down the sudden surge of emotion. “What is it?”

  Dante shrugged casually. “I’ll ask operations what we need done in Tago and find a fixer to work with. You do your best to complete whatever tasks they assign.” He set down the teacup. “And after you finish your tasks, I will look into your compatibility matter personally. Solving it? That will be on you, and you alone. Prove your worth.”

  I couldn’t help it; I smirked. “I’m barred from joining or working for Kallum. Have you forgotten? The board made it very clear that Kallum doesn’t want me.”

  “How does your system look?” Dante asked, ignoring my comment entirely. “Do you have any LP?” His smirk grew; the question without penalty confirmed it for him. Of course he knew; he’d probably known the moment he looked into my background.

  I glanced inward at my system interface, at the glowing numbers that represented my progress.

  [Leveling LP progress: 81%]

  [Plugin LP progress: 29%]

  There was no reason to tell him. No reason to trust him with information that could be used against me. Every instinct screamed to deflect, to lie, to protect myself.

  But.

  If I couldn’t trust the head of counter-intelligence of my own family’s corporation, a man who’d literally been tasked by my grandfather to teach me operational security, then I was truly fucked. And what he’d said... “personally looking into it.” That meant resources, attention, and an investigation that could actually find answers, instead of me running around like a broken cable.

  He was the best lead I had.

  “So that fixer—” I started.

  “Dash.” Dante cut me off. “Not me. You’ll bargain with a fixer, not me. I’m just making the introduction; they’ll contact you on the weekend.” He stared at me. “LP?”

  I took a breath and committed. “I’m 81% progress to the next level.”

  “What system do you have?”

  I decided to go all in.

  “It’s super broken. Minor system.” The words tumbled out faster now. I told him about the emergency activation at Ashford Terminal, the ERROR messages scattered throughout my interface, the limited functionality, the way attributes were completely glitched. “Also, I’ve got a tinkerer trait.”

  “Ah.” Dante nodded, and his expression shifted into something that might have been genuine interest. “Minor systems can be activated on some alien worlds Kallum visited. You need at least 15% compatibility to trigger one.” He paused, his chrome eye whirring thoughtfully. “But I’ve never heard of one activating in Sol. That means the system created it on the spot, the moment you needed it. That means the system took a personal interest in you, which is dangerous.”

  I stared at him, mouth slightly open, trying to process that he’d just casually explained something about my system that I hadn’t known.

  “Expect your system to behave… strange.” He fixed me with that gaze again. “By the way, good instincts being vague about your trait. Never reveal trait details to anyone else. Never. Not even Katherine, or me. Traits are exploitable if someone knows exactly what you have.”

  That was the moment he reached for the case beside his chair, and my breath caught as he opened it with a soft click.

  Inside, resting on black foam padding, was the book.

  It looked... smaller than I’d expected. Maybe twenty centimeters tall, fifteen wide. The leather binding was dark, almost black, with silver filigree tracing patterns across the cover that seemed to shift when I looked at them too directly. No title, no obvious markings, just those flowing designs that made my eyes water slightly.

  “This is one of the most precious assets Kallum possesses,” Dante said, his voice taking on a weight I hadn’t heard before. He lifted the book carefully, reverently. “You know what happens when I come to collect it and you don’t hand it back, right?”

  I nodded solemnly, my throat tight. “You kill me and take it back anyway.”

  “Good.” His smile returned. “Just wanted to make sure we’re clear on expectations.”

  Then he threw the book at me.

  “What?!” I lunged forward, hands scrambling to catch it. The book tumbled through the air, and I barely grabbed it before it hit the floor. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Are you insane?!”

  Dante belly-laughed, the sound genuine and completely at odds with the death threat he’d just delivered. “System books are almost indestructible,” he said between chuckles. “But don’t test that. Katherine would be very upset if you somehow damaged it.”

  He rose from the chair with grace, stretching slightly. “Right. Almost forgot… talking sense into you.” His expression shifted back. “Build good gear. Put your LP into the mana subsystem; this is your best bet. Don’t die.” He paused at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “Would be a shame to lose a good asset.”

  “Right...” I managed weakly, still clutching the book to my chest like it might explode.

  Dante gave a small wave and disappeared into the hallway. I heard him exchange pleasantries with Mom, something about the tea being excellent, and then the front door opened and closed.

  Silence settled over the living room.

  I looked down at the book in my hands. The leather was warm to the touch, almost alive. The silver patterns seemed to pulse faintly.

  My system interface flickered.

  [Mana subsystem found!]

  [Equation Mana Subsystem - Enchanting & Combat Magic]

  Level: None (Locked)

  Progress: 0/1 rune, 0/0 spells required for unlocking Level 1

  Unlocked runes to study: 6

  Unlocked spells to study: 0

  Cooldown between revealing (Level 1) runes: 60 hours

  I stared at the notification, my brain doing rapid math.

  Sixty hours. Two and a half days to unlock one rune. And I could unlock two runes, which meant...

  Five days.

  “Seven days,” I muttered, looking down at the book. Its silver patterns pulsed mockingly. “I’ll have to borrow it every time I want new spells or runes, right?” I groaned.

  “This is going to suck.”

  TODAY’S CHAPTER IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY Dash Kallum

  Join me on or

  On Patreon you can read 2 months ahead (~200 pages)