Chapter 4 — Four at the Hinge
He rose, tied his scarf, and inventoried his field kit: no steel drawn, blades folded, mask steady, heart unreadable.
Across campus, Kara woke to the smell of rosemary and raw iron. She looked at the vial of tincture on her desk. It had settled clear, true river color. She wrote on the label's edge: Remember the smell before fear.
Down in Mechanum, Jax had been listening to the bay talk all night. When the turbines sighed in harmony, he smiled into the pillow. He rose, scribbled a Counter-glyph Array on a scrap of paper, muttered, "Breakfast later," and went hunting for coffee that hadn't learned despair.
The first bell rang soft as breath. Students moved through colonnades like migrating ideas. Bells tolled again: one, three, one. Field rotation.
At the east yard, fog lifted across the grass. Warden Aria Senn checked her ledger, closed it, and nodded to Ronan Veyne striding out of the fog.
"Veyne," she greeted.
"Warden. Your Cohort Nine ready?"
"They think so. Make them right."
Ronan's gaze moved to Kara, Jax, and KrysKo. "Morning," he said.
"Morning," Kara replied. "Where are we bound?"
"South Farms," Ronan said, looking east. "And whatever waits beyond the fence."
Senn's tone cut through the chill. "Cohort Nine—load up. The University keeps your beds; the world keeps nothing. Bring it something worth keeping."
They moved. Harness leather creaked; wheels found rhythm. The gate yawned open on the dawn.
As they crossed beneath the arch, the warm system whispered: You are leaving the map, but not the meaning. Remember what holds. Remember who walks beside you.
The cold system followed: [FIELD INITIATED — COHORT NINE] [Status: Active | Capacity check: pending.]
The University's bells faded until the wind carried only the road's voice: gravel, breath, and the slow, steady sound of beginnings.
The Copper Taste of Night
Night came with a copper taste. KrysKo crossed the quad, his coat whispering in rhythm with the soft, internal hum at his chest.
[Status: Environment stable. Scent profile—human-normal. Threat index—nominal.]
You should rest, the System's warm side spoke.
"I don't sleep," KrysKo thought back.
Then dream awake. It's cheaper.
Then a shout cut across the lawn—sharp, startled, and wrong. The air carried mechanical ozone—Ophilim pulse technology. KrysKo pivoted.
The Gate
The south Mechanum gate hung open a hand too wide. Two wardens peered down, too late.
Three intruders hunched, faces wrapped, dragging a dolly bearing a sealed trunk—Architect ceramic, half-scraped sigils, and a low, insistent hum.
Lanterns flared, then snuffed. Someone had studied the grounds. KrysKo shortened his body into silent, devastating speed.
He turned the corner. Kara stood at the step's edge, looking puzzled. Jax emerged from the shadow behind her.
"Raiders," KrysKo said. "Mechanum gate. Three—no, four. Pulse-rigged."
"Campus lockdown?" Jax asked.
"Not yet. We'll make our own."
The First Strike
The raiders reached the courtyard. The first pulse discharge hit a stone pillar; it screamed—blue fire, white core.
KrysKo slid into motion. No blades. Campus law in his blood.
He flowed into ginga—a half-circle step drew the pulse aim off course. A leg sweep—rasteira—hooked the dolly's axle. The raider stumbled.
Kara dropped beside a fallen student, pulled a vial, and pressed it to a bleeding temple. "Hold still—river mix, breathe!"
The lead raider lunged, knife up. KrysKo moved inside the blade's intent and struck—a spinning heel that kissed the man's wrist, then ribs. The knife clattered.
The second raider swung the pulse toward Kara. The air changed.
Ronan Veyne entered from the dark. A scaled forearm collided with the gunner's wrist; bone split with a sickening crack. The pulse muzzle dove into the dirt. A knee drove up, clean and brutal.
"Down," Ronan said. The man obeyed.
The last raider hesitated. Jax appeared from the shadows with a wrench the size of regret. He swung once.
"Mechanum says goodnight," Jax muttered.
The trunk rolled to a stop. "Don't open that," Jax said, chest heaving.
Wardens poured from the north arch—Aria Senn at their point. The surviving raiders bolted.
The Aftermath
Smoke clung to the air. Kara sat beside the injured girl. Senn's boots echoed. "Who brought that trunk?"
"They did," Jax said. "Hums like a promise, smells like trouble."
"Mechanum will secure it," Senn said. "Nobody opens it. Nobody talks about it."
She locked eyes with Ronan. "You're a student."
"Ronan Veyne," he said evenly.
"You defended this campus," Senn said simply. "You did well."
Ronan nodded.
"You saved her," Kara said, nodding toward the student.
"She saved herself," Ronan replied. "I chose a sequence that helped."
Jax snorted. "Oh good, he talks like you," he told KrysKo.
Ronan's mouth curved the smallest fraction.
KrysKo met his eyes. "Thank you."
Ronan studied him. "You move like someone who kills well and hates it."
"I remove options," KrysKo said.
Senn's voice cut across the moment. "Dorm curfew in twenty. If you saw something you don't understand, write it before memory makes excuses."
"Walk with us," Kara said to Ronan. He gave a brief, stiff nod.
The Quad
The four of them—a healer, a maker, a hybrid, and a machine that pretended at manhood—walked through the suddenly quiet campus.
"Earlier—your name. It mattered," Kara said.
"It always does," Ronan said softly.
"I don't duel. I walk," KrysKo said.
Ronan's mouth twitched. "Good. I fight. Walking's harder."
They reached the dorm arch.
"Tomorrow," KrysKo said to Ronan. "East yard. Footwork."
"Drills?" Ronan asked.
"Not duels."
"I'll come."
"I love us already," Jax said.
Ronan left. At the corner, he looked back—just once. Two nods crossed the space between them.
Dawn Drills
The east practice yard was already alive with the gold of early light. KrysKo moved through ginga's rhythm.
You like this, the Warm System said gently.
"It's quiet," he thought.
Ronan arrived shirtless. "Footwork," KrysKo said.
"Footwork," Ronan echoed.
They began. Ronan's stance leaned forward—Drakari coil—while KrysKo's flowed. They learned each other's weight.
Tovin Marr paused to watch, gave a brief salute, and moved on.
Ronan lowered his staff. "We'll need a Warden who tolerates us."
KrysKo's gaze flicked to Kara. "We'll need her."
"All right. Let's learn to be a we," Kara said.
Summons
A brass chit slid under three doors—and one that never latched.
COLLEGIUM MARTIAL — CROWN HALL ATTEND: Myles, Marrow, O'Ruadhraigh, Veyne. WARDEN: Aria Senn.
Senn waited beneath the wall of salvaged banners. "Riverward Run. Two days out, one back. Routine, which means it won't be."
She scanned each face. "You're a provisional unit. No duels. No pride. Speak in complete sentences."
"O'Ruadhraigh. Outside, your blades work. You don't test the line."
"Yes, Warden."
"Veyne. You frighten people who need it. Carry twice the courtesy, none of the apology."
"One more thing," Senn added, leaning forward. "The Mechanum trunk recovered last night will ride with our train. You don't open it. You don't think about opening it. You definitely don't name it."
Jax coughed. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"Dismissed. Eat. Sleep. Then the yard."
The yard ran like a machine built of muscle. First bell: KrysKo vs. Tovin. Second: Ronan vs. a young Drakari. Third: Kara used leverage and surprise. Fourth: Jax got bruised, learned.
Senn offered neutral assessment. "You'll do. Barely."
Ronan offered the ladle first; KrysKo honored the gesture.
Convoy Day
The University gate opened. The seed wagons stood ready. The trunk rode the last wagon, tarped, chained, and silent.
"Roll call," Senn said. All four answered.
The world leaned in. They walked.
At midday they rested beneath a viaduct. The right rear wheel of the last wagon had stopped its steady whine.
"Sabotage," Jax whispered. "Cheap. Clever. Evil. Architect ceramic's not scavenger-grade."
Senn's voice stayed level. "Remove it."
Ronan lifted the wheel. Jax unbound. Kara brought fresh leather. KrysKo watched the road's mouth for the watcher.
When they were done, the wagon rolled smooth. They moved.
The Road That Listens
The delta stretched before them. KrysKo walked the outer left.
[Environmental integrity: low. Terrain variable. Threat index rising 14%.]
This land remembers teeth. Don't let it test yours first, the Warm System answered.
Ahead, Ronan adjusted his pace with unconscious efficiency.
Dusk fell. They camped where the land widened. "Fire only from braziers," Senn said.
Kara knelt by the wagon, checking Jax's rebind. "You think whoever set the wedge wanted to slow us or stop us?"
"Slow," Jax said. "Make us break in the wrong place. Somebody with keys touched Mechanum stores."
Across the circle, Ronan approached KrysKo. "You move like a Drakari dancer. But the rhythm's… different."
"Capoeira," KrysKo said. "A human dance. A fight that hides inside music."
"Drakari teach fighting through song, too. The rhythm's breath. Lose it, and your bones forget their names."
"You trust them," Ronan said eventually.
"I read them."
"That's not the same."
"It's enough."
Ronan leaned back. "The University won't stay quiet much longer. That trunk back there—it hums like my blood before a storm."
"I know."
Night Watch
Second shift: KrysKo and Ronan on the perimeter.
"You were made, weren't you?" Ronan asked without preamble.
"Yes."
"And yet… when you fight, it's not machine logic. It's grief."
"I know that rhythm," Ronan said. "My mother said sorrow moves faster than steel. She was right."
"That's not balance," Ronan said, his tone dry. "That's habit."
A faint tremor ran through the ground.
"Did you feel that?" KrysKo asked.
"Yeah."
The trunk pulsed once. Blue.
Jax's voice called. "Tell me that was just the fire—"
Senn was up. "Clear the wagons!"
The trunk's tarp burned away. Inside, a sphere of glass lattices moved like a slow heart.
KrysKo stepped forward. The System in him flared white-hot.
[Connection attempt detected: Source—Architect Prime Root Sequence.] [Warning: Core recognizing prototype signature.]
It knows you, the Warm System whispered.
The cold Code System overrode: [Override in progress. Network quarantine established.]
"No," KrysKo said aloud. "If it links, it wakes the rest."
Jax and Kara moved: Kara holding the copper grounding rod, Jax wiring the pulse-damp.
Ronan stayed beside KrysKo. "If it's trying to talk—what does it say?"
KrysKo swallowed, tasting iron. "My name."
The sphere brightened—now white. Every blade of grass bent toward it.
[krYs—ko_o'R—uad—] [—child—sequence—lost—] [—unfold—]
Listen to me, boy. This is a recall. It's not calling your body—it's calling your obedience.
"I don't have that anymore," KrysKo said, his voice shaking.
Then you have to prove it.
He knelt by the trunk, palms out. "I am not yours anymore."
The hum spiked, then fractured. The light cut out. Silence slammed down.
"You spoke to it," Ronan said.
"It remembered me wrong," KrysKo answered quietly.
You bought time. That's all any of us ever buy, the Warm System's voice, soft in the aftershock.
Afterlight
KrysKo sat by the firelight. Kara found him, wrapped in her cloak.
"You burned your hands," she said.
"They'll heal."
"I know," she said, then softer, "but that's not the same as not hurting."
"I was afraid," she admitted. "But you looked like someone who needed someone else not to be."
Jax brought caffeine broth. Ronan arrived last. "You didn't run," he said.
"I never do."
"Neither do I," Ronan said. "But it's nice to have company."
[Warm System Note: "They'll call this the night the hinge moved. You didn't break. You turned."] [Code System Addendum: Core classified: PRIME RELIC.] [Human Corollary (unverified): Sometimes a door closes and the world decides you're the one who has to hold it shut.]
KrysKo stared into the fire until dawn began to consider being brave again. The quiet that replaced the hum felt like something waiting for its cue.
The next segment is the Riverward Run itself, leading the convoy toward the markets and the chime-stone retrieval. How should Cohort Nine face the next day—with silence and caution, or with open discussion about the Architect threat? Author's Note – From C. B. GodSent
Project KrysKo is a LitRPG adaptation of my science-fantasy series The Turning of the Hinge.This version begins in the moment of KrysKo's reawakening—where silence meets circuitry and the System learns rhythm.
(The full literary SFF novels—The Hinge Chronicles—exist as separate works for traditional publication. I have 3 books of the SFF novel written while waiting for a book agent. so, I got a lot the turn into this litrpg style. )
I'm also have a Patreon CB GodSent.
here is where you can get the book art wallpaper.