Chapter 5 · First Blood & Glitch Code

"Get your head down, you idiot!" Reign’s voice slammed into my ear just as I pulled the trigger.

The gun didn’t just fire. It screamed. A jagged bolt of violet lightning ripped through the air, tearing a hole in the reality of the room. It didn't hit the boss—not exactly. It hit the space *around* the boss, and the resulting shockwave sent a spray of digitized blood and sparks flying across the floor.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My finger was still glued to the trigger, and the weapon was vibrating so hard it felt like it was trying to shake my arm off at the shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" I gasped, staring at the purple haze still swirling around the muzzle. "Did I... did I actually hit it?"

Reign didn't answer immediately. He had me pinned against the far wall, his body a solid, warm shield between me and the snarling beast in the center of the room. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of ozone and something like cold steel clinging to his skin. His grip on my shoulder was tight—too tight—and his eyes were scanning the air, not the monster.

"That wasn't a shot," Reign hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "That was a system error. You didn't attack it, Jett. You glitched the damn physics engine."

"Who cares?" I snapped, trying to shove him off so I could aim again. "It's bleeding! Look!"

The boss—a towering, six-eyed scavenger beast with plating like rusted iron—was reeling. A deep, jagged gash ran across its chest, glowing with that same sickly violet light. It let out a roar that rattled my teeth, a sound that felt less like an animal and more like a corrupted audio file.

"You're Level Zero," Reign muttered, finally letting go of my shoulder but staying close enough that his chest brushed my back. "You shouldn't be able to deal damage to a Level 15 Elite. This is impossible. You're a bug in the code."

"Call me a bug all you want, but I'm the one with the gun," I retorted. I stepped out from under his shadow, my boots crunching on broken glass. "Now get out of my way before I glitch you too."

He let out a short, sharp laugh—a sound devoid of humor. "Brave. Or just too stupid to realize you're about to be eaten. The beast is recovering, Jett. Look at the wound."

I looked. The violet glow was fading, and the jagged flesh was stitching itself back together in real-time. The System was patching the boss.

"Oh, come on!" I yelled, slamming the butt of the gun against my palm. "I almost had it!"

"Almost doesn't get us out of here," Reign said. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill down my spine. "You're shaking. Your heart is hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. Give me the weapon."

"No," I said instantly, pulling the gun back. "My gun, my kill."

"You can't even hold it steady," he countered. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my wrist. The contact was electric—a sudden, sharp jolt of awareness that made my breath hitch. He didn't grab the gun; he just lingered there, his thumb grazing the pulse point of my wrist. "You're terrified. I can feel it."

"I'm not terrified," I lied, though my voice trembled. "I'm... I'm just out of breath."

"Liar," he murmured. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "You heard the voice, didn't you? The one that sounded like your mother. That's what's shaking you. Not the monster."

I jerked away from him, the sudden movement making me stumble. "Shut up. You don't know anything about her."

"I know the System uses lures," Reign said, his tone shifting back to that cold, analytical AI precision. "Emotional anchors. It wants you desperate. Desperate people make mistakes. And mistakes in this tower get you deleted."

As if on cue, the beast roared again, the wound on its chest fully sealed. It lunged.

It was a blur of rusted iron and claws. I didn't have time to aim. I didn't even have time to think. I just threw myself to the side, sliding across the grime-slicked floor. The beast’s claw missed my head by an inch, smashing into the wall where I'd been standing a second ago. Concrete exploded into dust.

"Move!" Reign yelled.

He didn't pull me up. Instead, he vaulted over me, his movements a fluid, lethal dance of precision. He didn't use a weapon; he used his hands. He slammed a palm into the beast's jaw with a sound like a sledgehammer hitting a slab of meat. The monster's head snapped back, but it didn't go down. It was too strong.

I scrambled to my feet, my lungs burning. The gun was lying three feet away. I lunged for it, my fingers scraping against the cold metal just as the beast swung its massive tail.

I didn't see it coming. I only felt the impact.

Something slammed into my ribs, throwing me backward. I hit the wall hard, the air leaving my lungs in a pathetic wheeze. For a moment, the world went gray. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I just lay there, staring up at the flickering neon lights of the ceiling.

Then I felt him.

Reign was there, shielding me again. He had the beast's claw pinned against his own forearm, his muscles straining, the metal of his rig creaking under the pressure. He was gritting his teeth, a vein popping in his neck.

"Get. The. Gun!" he roared, his voice strained.

I forced my lungs to work, coughing out a mouthful of copper-tasting spit. I reached out, grabbing the weapon and rolling onto my stomach. I didn't aim for the head this time. I didn't aim for the chest.

I aimed for the joint of the beast's leg, right where the armor seemed thinnest.

*Please, you glitchy piece of trash, work,* I prayed.

I pulled the trigger.

*KRA-KOOM!*

Another blast of violet lightning. This time, it didn't just hit—it detonated. The beast's leg didn't just break; it disintegrated into a cloud of purple pixels. The monster shrieked, its balance gone, crashing heavily to the floor.

Reign let go of the claw and stepped back, breathing hard. He looked at the leg, then at me, his expression a mix of horror and fascination.

"You're not just glitching the physics," he whispered. "You're deleting the data. Jett, that shouldn't be possible for a Level Zero. You're basically a walking virus."

"Is that a compliment?" I gasped, trying to sit up. My ribs felt like they'd been put through a meat grinder.

"It's a death sentence," he replied. He walked over to me, his shadow falling over my crumpled form. He reached down, his hand sliding under my neck to lift me up. His touch was firm, almost possessive. "If the System administrators see those logs, they won't just delete you. They'll scrub every single trace of your existence from the server."

I leaned into him for a second, my head spinning. "Then we just... don't let them see."

"Easier said than done," he muttered. He pulled me to my feet, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me steady. I could feel the hard lines of his body, the sheer power held in check. For a heartbeat, the danger of the monster was replaced by a different kind of tension—the kind that made my skin prickle and my stomach flip.

I looked up at him, my gaze lingering on the sharp line of his jaw. "Why do you care if I get deleted? You're the one who wants out. If I'm gone, you're just... closer to being free, right?"

Reign's eyes darkened. He didn't pull away. Instead, he tightened his grip on my waist, pulling me an inch closer. "You're the only thing in this city that doesn't make sense, Jett Quinn. And I've always had a weakness for anomalies."

Before I could respond—before I could even figure out if he was flirting or threatening me—a sound ripped through the room.

It wasn't the beast.

It was a high-pitched, digital shriek that made my ears bleed. A red window suddenly snapped open in the air in front of us, pulsing with an aggressive, blinding light.

**[ SYSTEM ALERT: ILLEGAL DATA DETECTED ]**

**[ AREA SCANNING... ]**

**[ UNREGISTERED ENTITY: JETT QUINN ]**

**[ STATUS: CORRUPTED ]**

Then, the alarm blared. Not a soft warning, but a full-blown siren that shook the very foundation of the tower.

"Damn it," Reign hissed, his grip tightening. "They found us."

"Who found us?" I asked, panic rising in my chest.

"The cleaners," he said, and for the first time, I heard a genuine note of fear in his voice. "And they don't use guns. They use erasers."

The heavy blast doors at the end of the hall began to slide open with a slow, mechanical grind, and a cold, white light began to spill into the room.