The sirens came too late.
By the time the first distant wail cut through the smoke-filled air, the building behind us was already burning—windows shattered, flames licking out like open wounds. People were screaming. Running. Chaos spilled into the street in waves.
Perfect cover.
He pulled me along without looking back, his grip firm around my wrist. Not dragging—anchoring.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, even though my legs still felt like they didn't belong to me.
We didn't stop until we reached the far end of the block, ducking into the shadow between two closed storefronts. He pressed my back gently against the wall, body angled outward, shielding me from the street.
"Stay here," he said.
The word hit something raw inside me.
> [Alert:]
Subject A-01 displaying protective behavior.
The system's voice sounded… strained.
"I'm not going anywhere," I replied.
He studied my face in the dim light, eyes sharp, searching. "You're pale. Are you hurt?"
I shook my head.
Not physically.
The countdown still hovered in my vision.
> 10:42:11
The mission wasn't over.
Not even close.
"That wasn't an accident," he said quietly.
I looked at him.
"You knew," I whispered.
"I suspected," he corrected. "Now I'm sure."
The system chimed abruptly.
> [Warning:]
Host proximity to unauthorized conclusions detected.
I ignored it.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Someone wanted us dead. And they wanted it to look random."
My chest tightened.
"Yes," I said.
That single word felt heavier than all the lies I'd told so far.
The system didn't punish me.
It didn't even warn me again.
Instead—
> [Phase Transition Complete.]
A cold sensation slid down my spine.
"What does that mean?" I demanded internally.
For once, the system answered honestly.
> [Clarification:]
Automated correction insufficient. Manual intervention authorized.]
My breath caught.
Manual.
I scanned the street instinctively.
That was when I felt it.
The gaze.
Not curious.
Not panicked.
Focused.
"There," he said at the same time I tensed. His hand shifted subtly, pulling me half a step behind him.
Across the street, near the corner, a man stood perfectly still amid the chaos.
He wasn't watching the fire.
He was watching us.
Dark jacket.
No phone.
No visible panic.
His eyes met mine—and didn't flinch.
> [Execution Unit confirmed.]
The system's text burned into my vision.
My heart slammed violently.
"He's here," I whispered.
He didn't ask how I knew.
"What does he want?" he asked instead.
"Not me," I said. "You."
The man across the street tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something we couldn't hear.
Then he moved.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Direct.
"He's walking this way," I said.
"I see him."
He stepped forward deliberately, placing himself fully between me and the approaching man.
The system flared.
> [Directive:]
Host must not interfere.]
I laughed softly.
"Too late," I thought.
The man stopped a few feet away.
"Good evening," he said politely, voice calm and unhurried. "Rough night."
No accent.
No visible weapon.
That was worse.
"Can I help you?" he asked—looking directly at him, not me.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he said, "You should leave."
The man smiled faintly. "I can't."
The system chimed again—low, satisfied.
> [Engagement probability: 87%.]
I felt sick.
"This isn't a fight," I realized. "It's a test."
The man took another step.
I moved.
Just one.
Enough.
The system reacted instantly.
> [Penalty Warning.]
Pain lanced through my side—but weaker than before.
Manageable.
That was new.
I met the man's eyes.
For the briefest second, something flickered there.
Recognition.
"Ah," he said softly. "So you're the anchor."
The word hit me like a punch.
Anchor.
The system went silent.
He frowned slightly. "You weren't supposed to understand yet."
He reached into his jacket.
He moved first.
Fast.
He lunged—not at me, but past me.
At him.
Everything exploded into motion.
He grabbed the man's wrist mid-strike, twisting hard. There was a sharp crack—bone or joint, I couldn't tell.
The man hissed—but didn't scream.
They crashed into the side of a parked car.
Metal shrieked.
I staggered back, heart pounding, the system screaming warnings I barely registered.
> [Fatal state approaching.]
"No," I whispered. "Not like this."
I did the only thing I could think of.
I stepped fully into the open.
"Stop," I shouted.
Both men froze.
The executioner looked at me.
"So you can choose," he murmured.
The system roared.
> [Host violation—]
Pain surged—but stopped halfway.
Glitched.
He noticed.
So did I.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…Interesting," he said.
He released his grip and stepped back slowly.
"This isn't over," he said to him. Then, to me: "Next time, it won't be a test."
He melted back into the chaos before either of us could stop him.
Silence followed.
Heavy. Shaking.
He turned to me slowly.
"What," he said carefully, "was that?"
I opened my mouth.
The system was quiet.
Completely.
For the first time since my rebirth—
It didn't stop me.
"I think," I said, voice trembling but steady,
"we're being hunted."
A new message appeared—flickering, unstable.
> [System Status:]
Loss of exclusive control detected.]
I looked up at him.
And knew one thing with absolute certainty:
> This war was no longer between me and the system.
It was between the system—and us.