Arthur sat in the back of the black SUV. Sarah was at the wheel, her eyes occasionally darting to the rearview mirror. She didn't look at him the same way anymore. After the warehouse, she didn't see a "Boss." She saw a force of nature.
Arthur was staring at the Core Fragment in his palm. It was no longer glowing violently; it had dimmed into a deep, pulsating sapphire.
"Reality Edit," Arthur whispered.
[SKILL: REALITY EDIT (RANK: F)]
• Description: Rewrite a minor physical property or social truth within a 10-meter radius.
• Cost: Mental Strain / System Debt.
• Current Charge: 100%
"We're here," Sarah said, pulling into the St. Jude's parking lot.
The school looked the same, but to Arthur's Spirit Vision, it was leaking. Small glitches—pixels of static in the bushes, shadows that moved slower than the people casting them—were everywhere. The "System" was fraying.
[The Hallway of Kings]
As Arthur walked through the doors, the atmosphere shifted. The students who used to laugh at him now moved aside like the Red Sea. But Julian Thorne was waiting at his locker, surrounded by a new group of thugs—hired muscle from a rival school, older and meaner.
Julian looked desperate. His father was ruined, his house was gone, and his status was a flickering candle. "Vance!" he barked, his voice cracking. "You think you won? My dad has friends. People who don't care about 'trusts' or 'legal papers.' You're dead, Arthur. Right here. Right now."
The four thugs stepped forward, blocking the hallway. The students backed away, sensing the violence.
Arthur didn't even stop walking. He didn't look at Julian. He looked at the floor.
Let's see what a Rank F Edit can do.
[TARGET: FRICTION]
[EDIT: REDUCE TO 0% IN TARGET ZONE]
Arthur snapped his fingers.
The air didn't change, but as the four thugs lunged at him, their feet hit the floor and simply... kept going. It was as if the linoleum had been turned into perfectly frictionless ice. They went flying in different directions, limbs flailing, crashing into lockers and each other with sickening thuds.
The hallway went silent. Julian stared at his men, who were sliding around on the floor like fish out of water, unable to find any purchase.
"What... what did you do?" Julian gasped.
"I edited the rules, Julian," Arthur said, stepping over a struggling thug. "In this hallway, I decided that you no longer have a 'right' to stand."
[The Price of Godhood]
As Arthur walked past, a sudden, searing migraine hammered into his skull.
[WARNING: SYSTEM DEBT INCURRED]
[CONSEQUENCE: TEMPORARY SENSORY DEPRIVATION]
Suddenly, Arthur's hearing cut out. Total silence. He stumbled, his hand hitting a locker for support.
The balance, he realized. If I remove friction, the System removes a sense to keep the energy stable.
Through the silence, he saw the Man in White standing at the end of the hall. He wasn't a statue this time. He was clapping. No sound came through, but Arthur could see the mocking grin on his face.
The Man in White walked through the crowd, invisible to everyone but Arthur. He leaned in, his lips moving. Arthur couldn't hear him, but his Spirit Vision translated the intent into text in his mind:
"Playing God is fun, isn't it? But every time you edit the world, you lose a piece of yourself. How many edits until there's nothing left of 'Arthur' but the Ghost?"
[The New Player]
Just as the Man in White prepared to reach out and touch Arthur's forehead, a hand slammed into the Man's wrist.
Arthur's hearing snapped back. CLANG.
It was Elena. She was dressed as a transfer student, wearing the school uniform, but her eyes were cold steel. "He's under my protection, Admin. Back off."
The Man in White chuckled, pulling his arm away. "The 'Watcher' finally intervenes. Fine. Keep your toy for now. But the next Fragment is in the hands of someone who doesn't play by the rules. See you in History class."
He vanished into a swarm of violet pixels.
Elena turned to Arthur, her face grim. "You're a fool. Using 'Reality Edit' for a hallway scuffle? You're burning your soul for pennies."
"I needed to know it worked," Arthur said, wiping sweat from his brow.
"It works," Elena said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit. "But the 'Man in White' isn't your biggest problem. Because you used that power here, the 'Original' timeline is starting to bleed through. Look at the trophy case."
Arthur looked. The glass case that held the football trophies was changing. The silver cups were melting, reforming into something else—skulls made of chrome and wires.
"The war isn't coming anymore, Arthur," Elena whispered. "It's already here. And it's hungry."