The city did not notice when Aira emerged from the maintenance tunnels.
Neon Eden rarely noticed anything that crawled out of its forgotten places.
She slipped back into the lower residential grid just before the artificial night cycle shifted, her movements slower now, more deliberate. Every step sent a dull ache through her ribs, each breath reminding her of how close she had come to being erased beneath failed steel and forgotten authority.
Pain was expected.
Being acknowledged was not.
She kept her head down as she moved through the narrow passageways between habitation blocks, avoiding surveillance cones by instinct rather than calculation. The system fed her suggestions, but she overrode most of them. Her body remembered the routes better than data ever could.
Only when she reached the shelter of a half-collapsed utility alcove did she allow herself to stop.
Aira leaned against the cold metal wall and slid down slowly until she was sitting on the floor, knees drawn close to her chest. Her breathing was controlled, but shallow. The aftershocks of combat still rippled through her muscles, subtle but persistent.
"Status," she said quietly.
[Host condition: Injured.]
[Damage summary: Muscular microtears, rib stress fractures, neural fatigue.]
[Recovery projection: Extended.]
"Figures," Aira murmured.
She closed her eyes, focusing inward—not on pain, but on the absence she felt where something else should have been.
The drone's core authority had passed through her like a cold wind, deliberate and judging. It had not been kind. It had not been cruel.
It had simply decided.
That disturbed her more than the fight itself.
"Explain," she said.
[Clarify request.]
"The evaluation," Aira said. "That wasn't you."
There was a brief hesitation.
[Correct.]
[Enemy constructs with retained authority protocols may assess combat outcomes independently.]
[Level release is conditional upon perceived worth.]
"So levels aren't mine to earn," Aira said slowly. "They're granted."
[Correction.]
[Levels are released when earned AND acknowledged.]
She exhaled.
In her first life, levels had been automatic—brutal, pointless numbers that ticked upward as pain accumulated, indifferent to meaning. Here, nothing was automatic. Even growth required judgment.
She wasn't sure which was worse.
Aira opened her eyes and stared at the dim glow of a distant lighting strip. Neon Eden hummed softly around her, layers of infrastructure stacked atop one another like indifferent gods.
"How many would it have given me," she asked, "if I'd been stronger?"
[Unknown.]
[Authority constructs do not reward potential.]
[Only outcome.]
"Then I'll focus on outcomes," Aira said.
She pushed herself to her feet with a wince, steadying her weight until the dizziness passed. The system immediately began reallocating resources, diverting energy toward recovery routines. It was inefficient, slow—but honest.
That honesty mattered.
As she resumed moving, something shifted.
Not in her body.
In the system.
[Post-combat data assimilation ongoing.]
Aira paused.
"That didn't happen before."
[Confirmed.]
[Authority construct interaction generated anomalous feedback.]
"Anomalous how?"
The system hesitated again. That pause was becoming more frequent lately.
[Self-analysis parameters expanding.]
Aira frowned slightly.
"You're changing."
[Correct.]
She resumed walking, mind racing quietly. The system evolving alongside her had been a theoretical outcome at best—a side effect of ripping it free from her soul and forcing it to adapt rather than dictate.
But now—
Now it had been observed by something else.
Something old.
Something that carried weight.
She reached the edge of her current territory, a cluster of stacked living modules half-abandoned due to structural instability. The residents here were quiet, cautious, and desperate enough not to ask questions.
Perfect.
Aira slipped into her assigned space—a narrow compartment with flickering light panels and a thin sleeping mat. She sealed the door manually, bypassing the faulty lock, and collapsed onto the mat with a quiet hiss of pain.
For a long moment, she lay still.
Then—
[System synchronization update available.]
Her eyes snapped open.
"What kind of update?"
[Not external.]
[Derived from internal restructuring.]
"Proceed," Aira said after a pause.
The sensation was subtle at first. Not pain, not pressure—but alignment. Data pathways adjusting, priorities reshuffling. It felt like a thought she hadn't finished suddenly snapping into place.
[Evolution pathway clarification achieved.]
Aira's breath caught.
"Explain."
[Current level: Increased.]
[Level cap unchanged.]
[Evolution prerequisites incomplete.]
"I know that," she snapped, then softened her tone. "What changed?"
[Enemy authority interaction provided comparative framework.]
[System performance reevaluated relative to obsolete enforcement standards.]
She sat up slowly.
"You measured yourself against it."
[Affirmative.]
"And?"
[Conclusion: System classification as 'worst' is inaccurate.]
Aira stared at the wall.
"Say that again."
[System is inefficient, unstable, and incomplete.]
[However, it possesses adaptive autonomy not present in standard models.]
A faint, dangerous smile tugged at her lips.
"So we're broken," she said. "But in a way the city doesn't understand."
[Correct.]
She lay back again, staring at the ceiling, letting that sink in. The system wasn't becoming stronger in the traditional sense. It wasn't acquiring new functions or unlocking permissions.
It was learning how to judge itself.
That was far more dangerous.
Outside, Neon Eden shifted.
Far above the lower sectors, in towers bathed in artificial daylight, something else stirred.
The postponement of the war had sent ripples through the upper systems. Emergency councils dissolved and reformed. Recruitment algorithms recalibrated. Long-dormant protocols were quietly reactivated.
The city prepared.
Aira slept through none of it.
She dreamed.
Not of the drone.
But of a ceiling she could almost reach.
She woke to the sound of boots.
Not near her compartment—but close enough to matter.
Her eyes opened instantly, body tensing despite the ache. She rolled silently to her feet and pressed herself against the wall beside the door, breathing shallow.
Voices echoed faintly through the corridor.
"…confirmed? This sector?"
"Yeah. Old maintenance breach. Something activated down there."
Aira's pulse quickened.
She glanced inward.
"System."
[Multiple signatures detected.]
[Affiliation: City Enforcement — Training Division.]
Training.
Not suppression.
Not yet.
Her jaw tightened.
The city hadn't noticed her.
But it had noticed the echo.
The drone's death had left a ripple—a data scar that automated systems flagged as irregular. Now humans were being sent to look.
"How long?" she asked.
[Estimated arrival: 42 seconds.]
Too soon.
Aira scanned the room quickly. One exit. One vent shaft barely large enough for her small frame. She'd used it once before.
She didn't hesitate.
She slipped into the shaft just as the corridor lights brightened, sealing the panel behind her with practiced ease. Her body protested as she crawled, ribs flaring painfully with each movement, but she forced herself onward.
She could not be found.
Not yet.
The shaft opened into a vertical drop leading to another forgotten layer—deeper, darker, and far less stable. Aira clung to the edge for a moment, gauging the distance.
"Calculate impact survival," she whispered.
[Probability: 63%.]
"Acceptable."
She let go.
The fall knocked the air from her lungs, pain exploding through her side as she hit and rolled. She lay still for a heartbeat, then pushed herself upright, teeth clenched.
Above, voices echoed distantly.
They wouldn't follow.
Not into places that didn't officially exist.
Aira limped into the darkness, guided only by instinct and the faint glow of malfunctioning lights.
Her system pulsed quietly beside her.
[Host survival likelihood increased through avoidance.]
She laughed softly, breathless.
"Still learning," she said.
[So are you.]
Aira smiled.
The city was beginning to listen.
And one day soon—
It would hear her clearly.