The worker's shock hung in the air like static before a storm. His name tag read "Jaxx"—ironic, Kairos thought, given his recent run-in with another Jax. The man's fingers hovered over the azure shard, trembling slightly, as if afraid it might vanish like a mirage. The faint shadow crystal in his wrist flickered erratically, betraying his composure.

  "These... these aren't slum finds," Jaxx whispered, voice cracking on the last word. He picked up the emerald one next, holding it to the low crystal-lamp overhead. Soft green light danced across his face, highlighting the scar running from his left eyebrow to his cheekbone. "Pristine lattice structure. No cracks, no dilution from overuse. Echo purity at... gods, near 98%. Where did you really get these?"

  Kairos kept his expression neutral, leaning casually against the counter. The hall around them buzzed with subdued activity—hooded Crystos murmuring deals in corners, faint hums of power clashing as affinities tested boundaries. No one paid them much attention yet, but he knew eyes were everywhere in Shadow Nexus. "Undergrid tunnels. Anomalous nodes. Nothing special—just persistence and luck."

  Jaxx laughed, short and disbelieving. "Luck doesn't yield genesis-grade fragments. These could be from the Fall's first wave—untouched by twenty years of scavenging. One of these azure ones might hold a clean Tesla echo—wireless flow, unpolluted by modern aether noise. And the crimson? Pure kinetic potential. Newton's shadow, maybe. You have any idea what Vesper Noir would pay for shards this clean?"

  Kairos shrugged, but inside, calculations spun. He needed credits—enough for gear, transport to a coastal outpost, maybe even a submersible rental for the Arabian Sea quest. But rushing would draw attention. Slow. Careful. The Seed's advice echoed: preserve purity, build heavy foundation.

  "Name your price," he said quietly.

  Jaxx's eyes darted left and right, then he leaned in, lowering his voice. "Standard appraisal for minor shards is 500-800 credits each. Diluted ones go for half. But these..." He counted them again, fingers tracing each hue. "Twelve pristine. I'd lowball at 2,000 per shard to test you—24,000 total. But that's insulting. Real value? 5,000 to 8,000 each, depending on buyer. Auction them properly, you could hit 100,000 credits or more. Shadow Nexus takes a 15% cut on trades, but for shards like these, the house might waive it for a cut of future dealings."

  Kairos felt the weight of the pouch lighten in his mind—not from loss, but potential. 100,000 credits was life-changing down in the slums: better rations for Lumen and the elders, reinforced hut walls, maybe even passage out of Nexus toward the coast. But auction meant exposure. Waiting meant risk—someone might trace the shards back to him.

  "No auction," he decided. "Direct sale. To you, or whoever handles high-purity here. Quick and quiet."

  Jaxx rubbed his scar thoughtfully. "Smart. Auctions draw eyes—hunters, rival organizations. Vesper herself might want first look, but she's in seclusion today. Training a new prodigy." He paused, appraising Kairos anew. "You're no ordinary scavenger. No visible bond mark, no aura leak. Yet you walk in with genesis shards. Who are you really?"

  "Someone who needs credits, not questions," Kairos replied evenly.

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  Jaxx nodded slowly. "Fair. Let me run a deeper scan—non-invasive. House policy for high-value items."

  Before Kairos could protest, a soft violet light washed over the mat from a hidden emitter above the counter. The shards glowed in response, data overlays flickering in Jaxx's augmented vision—though Kairos couldn't see them, he felt the Seed stir protectively in his chest, a faint warning pulse.

  [Scan Detected – Low Threat. Purity Mask Active. No Seed Signature Leaked.]

  The light faded. Jaxx's eyes widened further. "Clean. No tracker implants, no affiliation stamps. These are ghosts—unclaimed echoes. Perfect for private sale." He exhaled. "Alright. I'll buy them outright. 60,000 credits, flat. Cash transfer or encrypted aether-voucher. No haggling—take it before I regret."

  Kairos considered. 60,000 was solid—more than he'd hoped for direct. Enough to gear up without selling his soul to the organization. But something nagged: the worker's eagerness. Greed, or caution?

  "70,000," Kairos countered softly. "And throw in info. Anything recent on ocean routes—safe paths to the Arabian Sea. Submersible rentals, avoided zones. Crystos who dive there."

  Jaxx hesitated, then smirked. "You're pushing it, stranger. But... deal. 70,000. And info packet—encrypted, one-time decrypt. Shadow Nexus has contacts in coastal outposts. Word is, the deep's stirring worse than broadcasts show. Leviathans aren't just emerging—they're coordinating. Pods forming alliances, like pre-Fall wolf packs but with telepathic shards. A diver team vanished last week near your coordinates—20° N, 65° E. Last transmission: 'Time... bending. Can't... escape.' Sound like your target?"

  Kairos's pulse quickened. The Chrono Echo Crystal—time-related, as the interface promised. "Send the packet with the transfer."

  Jaxx tapped a sequence on a concealed pad. A soft chime—transfer initiated. Kairos's scavenged wrist-comm buzzed: incoming encrypted funds. He accepted, feeling the digital weight settle.

  As the credits hit, Jaxx slid a small data chip across the mat. "Decrypt code: 'EchoesWhisper'. Destroy after reading. And stranger..." He leaned closer. "If these shards came from the Undergrid, watch your back. Purity like that draws attention. Crystos aren't the only ones hunting echoes."

  Kairos pocketed the chip and shards' empty pouch. "Noted."

  He turned to leave, weaving through the hall's shadows. Crystos glanced his way—curious, assessing—but no one followed. Yet.

  Outside, midday had shifted to late afternoon. Nexus's fusion lights began to dominate the sky, holographic ads flickering: "Join Tempest Syndicate—Command the Storms!" "Eternal Forge: Live Forever!" The air carried salt now—distant ocean winds pushing through the megacity's vents.

  He found a quiet alcove near an abandoned walkway, cracked open the data chip on his comm. Files unfolded: maps of coastal approaches, avoided beast migration routes, rental contacts for submersibles in old Mumbai remnants. And a warning addendum:

  "Arabian Sea Anomaly Zone – High Risk. Temporal distortions reported. Time dilation pockets: minutes inside feel like hours out. Recommend anti-temporal wards. Last known safe dive: 3 days ago. Team status: Missing."

  Kairos stared at the screen, the Seed humming in agreement.

  [Quest Update: Threads of Eternity – Tier 1]

  [Additional Intel Acquired. Preparation Recommended: Secure transport, anti-aqua gear, temporal countermeasures if possible.]

  [Integration Stability: 94% – Minor fluctuations from external echoes. Rest advised.]

  He pocketed the chip, crushing it under his boot as instructed. Credits burned in his account—real power, the kind that bought survival. But the ocean called louder now, its secrets whispering through the data.

  Back toward the slums, he moved with purpose. Lumen would be waiting, probably helping Mei mend nets or listening to Ivan's old Moscow stories. Rations first—then planning. The Chrono Echo wasn't going anywhere, but neither were the leviathans.

  Slow steps. Heavy foundation.

  As evening crept in, painting Nexus in bruised purples, Kairos felt the first real pull of destiny—not overwhelming, not explosive. Just inevitable.

  Like gravity.

  Like time itself.