The National Archives loomed before us, its weathered stone facade a stark contrast to the modern office buildings surrounding it. Goran led the way up the worn steps, his usual business attire somehow fitting perfectly with the building's neoclassical grandeur.

  "You know," Goran paused at the entrance, his hand resting on one of the massive doors, "after World War II, the Order digitized thousands of documents here. Not just official records - magical texts, grimoires, correspondence between covens. All converted to punch cards, then magnetic tape, eventually migrating to modern servers."

  "Smart move," I said, following him inside. The ECHO device thrummed in my pocket, reacting to something in the building's energy. "Hide it in plain sight, mixed with regular archives."

  "Exactly." Goran's voice echoed in the marble-lined lobby. "The Nazis were obsessed with occult artifacts. So during the war everything valuable was securely packed into the crates and hidden in the tunnels below the building. After the war our predecessors realized digital storage would be the safest haven - who'd look for ancient magical knowledge in IBM mainframes?"

  We descended a narrow staircase, our footsteps echoing off stone walls that predated Serbia's independence. The air grew cooler, carrying that distinct archive smell - old paper, dust, and something else. Something burnt.

  "You smell that?" I asked, my AR glasses struggling to maintain their connection. "Like someone had a bonfire of old books."

  "Ah, you noticed." Goran smiled grimly. "During the occupation, the archivists burned what they couldn't hide. Or so the official story goes. The truth is, some of those fires were magical - protection rituals that sealed certain documents into the building's very foundation. You can still smell the ashes decades later."

  The basement level opened into a maze of corridors lined with metal shelving. Modern fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, but their sterile glow seemed to fade into shadows that shouldn't exist in a well-lit space.

  "The Order maintained a secret vault down here," Goran continued, leading me through the labyrinth. "When digitization began, they sealed it off. Only a handful of people know its exact location."

  "Let me guess - our nocturnal visitor was looking for it?"

  "Not exactly." Goran stopped at an intersection of corridors, studying the seemingly identical shelves. "They already knew where it was. What interests me is how they knew which digital archives to target."

  I opened my laptop, checking the logs from last night. "The attack pattern..." Something clicked. "You already knew they weren't searching."

  "Indeed." Goran's expression darkened. "Someone with intimate knowledge of both our digital security and the original archival system. The question is - how far back does this breach go?"

  The ECHO device suddenly grew hot in my pocket. I pulled it out, its crystal viewfinder pulsing with an intense blue light. The device pointed down a corridor that, according to my AR display, didn't exist in the building's official blueprints.

  "Well," I said, watching the energy patterns swirl in the crystal, "looks like we might find some answers down there."

  Goran nodded, his usual composed demeanor showing a crack of concern. "Be careful with that device, Aleksandar. In places like this, where old magic meets new, technology doesn't always behave as expected. But first let's sign in and have a chat with security people. Maybe they've noticed something last night."

  We shuffled closer to the archive entrance desk, where an elderly security guard in a faded Falcon Security uniform was busy stuffing items into his backpack. The fabric of his uniform had that distinct worn look that comes from years of night shifts and countless cups of coffee spilled during late-night patrols. His movements were slow, methodical - the kind you develop after decades of doing the same job.

  I showed my work ID, emblazoned with our tech company's cover logo. The security guard, Mr. Radovanov according to his name tag, squinted at it through thick glasses that looked as old as the building itself.

  "Ah yes, the IT people." He shuffled through some papers on his desk. "They said you'd be coming. Something about system maintenance?"

  "That's right," Goran smiled warmly. "Any issues last night? System glitches, weird behavior?"

  "Well..." Radovanov leaned back in his creaking chair, "computers acted up a bit during the Lakers game. Stream froze right when Curry was about to shoot." He shook his head. "Cost me five thousand dinars, that freeze. Warriors pulled ahead in the fourth quarter."

  I glanced at Goran, keeping my face neutral. "You watch games on the archive computers?"

  "Oh, everyone does it." Radovanov waved dismissively. "The Falcon Security boys, they know how to get around the blocks. Better than staring at empty corridors all night, right?"

  The ECHO device pulsed warmly in my pocket. I resisted the urge to check it.

  "What time did the system freeze?" I asked, pulling out my notebook as if taking notes.

  "Must've been..." Radovanov scratched his chin, "some time after 11 PM? Right before my coffee break. But it came back quick enough. Shame about those five thousand dinars though." He sighed. "The wife's gonna kill me when she finds out."

  "And nothing else unusual?" Goran pressed gently. "No other disturbances?"

  "Nah, quiet night otherwise. Just me and the game." He gathered his things, preparing to end his shift. "Though I probably shouldn't have told you about the streaming thing..."

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  "Don't worry," I assured him, "we're just here to check the systems. What happens during night shifts stays in night shifts."

  Radovanov chuckled, relief crossing his tired face. "You're good lads. Security desk's all yours - my replacement is in the toilet, should be here any minute."

  As we waited for the next guard, I turned to Goran and whispered, "After 11 PM. Exactly when the ECHO activated and the attack started."

  I fished out my ancient Nokia N97 with slide-out keyboard, its scratched screen a far cry from the smartphones already flooding the market. "Jovan's going to love this. Sports and hacking - his two favorite topics."

  Goran nodded, already dialing on his magically enhanced BlackBerry Z10. The contrast between our phones made me smile - his sleek business device versus my reliable brick. The call connected quickly, Jovan's rapid typing audible in the background.

  "Jovan, we need you to check something." I leaned against the security desk, keeping my voice low. "Run a cross-reference on Falcon Security contracts. Focus on all the institutions that got hit last night."

  "Already on it," Jovan's voice crackled through the speaker. His typing grew more intense. "Give me a sec... yeah, interesting. Falcon's got contracts with twelve of the fifteen affected locations. That's not a coincidence."

  "Check if their guards were streaming the Lakers game around 11 PM," Goran added, his eyes scanning the corridor for the returning security guard.

  "Lakers versus Warriors?" Jovan's typing paused. "Oh man, that was a brutal fourth quarter. Curry just..." He caught himself. "I mean, yeah, I'll trace the stream source."

  I couldn't help but grin. "You watched it too?"

  "What? No, I... okay, maybe. But I used my own secure connection!" Jovan defended himself. "Wait... oh shit. The stream everyone else used? It came through a Serbian proxy, but I'm seeing weird packet form. Like nothing I've ever... hold up."

  The ECHO device vibrated again, stronger this time. I pulled it out, watching the crystal's glow sync with Jovan's typing rhythm.

  "The stream was packed with encoded magic," Jovan continued, his voice tense with excitement. "They basically turned every computer accessing that stream into a gateway. Brilliant and terrifying. Whoever did this knows both old-school magic and cutting-edge network exploitation."

  "Focus on tracing that proxy," Goran instructed. "We need to-"

  He stopped as footsteps echoed down the corridor. The next shifts' security guard was returning.

  "Keep us posted," I whispered into the phone before hanging up and handing it back to Goran. The ECHO's pulsing had grown stronger, pointing insistently down that non-existent corridor.

  The new guard that approached the desk, younger and more alert than Radovanov, scrutinized our IDs with painful thoroughness. His crisp uniform and rigid posture screamed 'recent hire' - the kind who still followed every protocol to the letter.

  "I really should accompany you," he insisted, sliding the access cards across the desk. His fingers lingered on them, reluctant to let go. "It's standard procedure for-"

  "We appreciate your diligence," Goran cut in smoothly, his voice carrying that perfect blend of authority and reassurance that made people want to agree with him. "But we're familiar with the layout. Our team handled the last system upgrade."

  I adjusted my AR glasses, pretending to check some notes while actually scanning the area. The magical residue from last night's attack glowed faintly in my enhanced vision - thin threads of energy, like luminescent cobwebs, trailing from the guard's computer into the wall-mounted network switch.

  "If you're sure..." The guard finally released the cards, though his face suggested he'd rather follow us anyway.

  "Completely sure." Goran pocketed his card with a practiced motion. "We'll check back when we're done."

  As we moved away from the desk, I kept my glasses focused on the network infrastructure. The energy patterns danced in sync with the data traffic, creating an eerie light show only I could see.

  "Goran," I whispered once we were out of earshot, "the attack patterns are all over their network setup. See that switch?" I nodded toward the wall unit. "It's as if they used the basketball stream to create some kind of magical botnet. Every cable is still carrying traces of the spell."

  Goran's expression remained neutral, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes. "Can you record what you're seeing?"

  "Already on it." I tapped the side of my glasses, initiating the capture function. The device heated up immediately - magical recording always pushed these prototype AR models to their limits. "Though the glasses might melt before I get everything."

  "Just get what you can."

  The plastic cable guides snaked along the ceiling like illuminated veins, each network cable pulsing with residual magical energy in my enhanced vision. My AR glasses were running hot - recording this much magical activity pushed their primitive 2013 hardware to its limits. I could feel them starting to slide down my nose from the heat.

  "Getting anything useful?" Goran asked as we approached the basement stairs, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

  "Same as before." I adjusted the glasses carefully, trying to capture every detail of the network's magical contamination. "The energy resonance spreads through the entire infrastructure. "

  We reached the stairwell, its aged concrete steps disappearing into shadows that seemed too deep for the fluorescent lighting overhead. Goran paused, his hand resting on the metal railing.

  "You know," he said, voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "during the occupation, the Nazis were systematic in their search for certain documents. They knew exactly where our magical libraries are hidden." He started down the stairs, each step deliberate. "But our archivists were cleverer."

  "The hidden crates you mentioned?"

  "Yes. While the Germans were focused on the main archives, our people moved the most sensitive materials through a network of old tunnels." The stairs creaked under our weight. "Some dating back to Austrian rule. Official records claim many documents were lost during those movements."

  I followed him deeper into the basement level, where the air grew thick with that distinct archive smell - old paper and forgotten histories. "But they weren't really lost, were they?"

  "Lost to public record, perhaps." Goran's smile was barely visible in the dim light. "The Order made sure everything important found its way to secure storage. First on paper, then punch cards, magnetic tape..." He gestured at the modern server racks visible through reinforced glass walls. "And now this."

  My glasses picked up stronger energy emanating from behind those walls. The recording function started glitching, the display flickering as it struggled to process the magical feedback.

  "The old and the new," I half-said, watching streams of data and magical energy intertwine in my failing display. "Hidden in plain sight, just like you said."

  "Exactly. Who would think to look for ancient magical knowledge in a temperature-controlled server room?" Goran stopped at a heavy security door, its keypad looking surprisingly modern against the old concrete walls. "The perfect camouflage for our digital age."

  I had to remove my glasses - they were too hot to wear, and the display had devolved into a mess of artifacts and error messages. Even without them, I could feel the concentration of power behind that door. The ECHO device in my pocket thrummed in response, its crystal probably glowing like a miniature sun.

  "Though sometimes," Goran added, punching in a complex code, "the old ways and the new don't mix well." He glanced meaningfully at my overheated glasses. "Technology has its limits when it comes to magic. Especially the older, deeper kinds we keep down here."

  The security door clicked open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing rows of servers humming in the darkness beyond.