The walk back to the Rust Belt was a revelation. Felix felt a strange, terrifying clarity. The world was no longer a solid mass of stone and steel; it was a layered tapestry of Logic Traces. He could see the structural fatigue in the crumbling bridges, the flickering probability of the power lines, and the rhythmic "heartbeat" of the city's surveillance grid.
He was no longer a victim of the matrix. He was its debugger.
As he reached his tenement building, the air grew thick with the stench of cheap synthetic tobacco and the ozone of low-grade cybernetics. Three men stood by his door, their silhouettes jagged and threatening. They wore the scorched-chrome vests of Apex Sub-Contractors, their faces modified with gargoyle-like implants designed to harvest "Intimidation Entropy" from their debtors.
"Look at this," Vance, the leader, spat, his cybernetic eye whirring with a red, hostile light. "The ghost returns to his grave. We thought you'd liquidated yourself in the river, Felix."
Felix stopped, his hands in his pockets, his gaze sweeping over them with the clinical indifference of a coroner. "Vance. I see Apex's budget cuts have finally reached the 'Muscle' department. You look... under-rendered."
Vance's face contorted. "Smart mouth for a man whose eyes are the only thing left of value in his head. You owe fifty thousand credits. Pay in blood, or pay in chrome. Either way, you're paying tonight."
In Felix's silver-rimmed vision, Vance was a joke. His stance was a mess of inefficient scripts, and the lead pipe in his hand flickered with a low-quality "Destruction" tag.
"I've reviewed the ledger, Vance," Felix said, stepping into the dim hallway light. "The interest compounding in your contract violates the 3rd Edict of High-Dimensional Commerce. Technically, you've been overcharging me for three years. I'm here to collect the refund."
"Kill him," Vance roared, swinging the pipe in a desperate, arcing strike.
CLANG.
The sound was like a hammer hitting a mountain. The pipe struck Felix's temple and instantly buckled, wrapping around his head like a piece of wet tinfoil.
[Rank C: Physical Rule Immunity Confirmed.] [Refining Malicious Intent...]
Vance froze, his breath hitching. "What the... You're a Glitch!"
"No," Felix said, his hand snaking out to grip Vance's throat. "I'm the auditor."
The Singularity Reactor flared. Vance screamed, but no sound came out. He felt his very "Authority"—the programmed aggression that gave him power over others—being stripped away. The reactor devoured the malice, leaving Vance a hollow, shivering husk.
[Refinement Successful: Mental Processing Speed +0.1%.]
Felix tossed him aside like a broken toy. The other two goons didn't even wait for a command; they turned and fled into the darkness of the stairwell, their footsteps echoing with the rhythm of raw terror.
Felix reached for his keys in Vance's pocket, but his fingers snagged on a crumpled delivery slip. He pulled it out, and for the first time, his cold composure shattered.
Courier: Old Mo (Leo) Status: TERMINATED Penalty: Efficiency Threshold Not Met
A phantom pain bloomed in Felix's chest. Three years ago, he had authored the "Ultra-Efficiency Delivery Algorithm"—a masterpiece of optimization that squeezed the life out of every courier to save Apex a fraction of a cent.
Leo wasn't just a courier. He was the first soul Felix had traded for a promotion. And now, the Shoddy Stage was bringing that ghost back to his doorstep.
"The cycle isn't just closing," Felix whispered, the slip of paper turning to grey ash in his hand. "It's collapsing."
He didn't go inside. He turned back toward the dark heart of the city. He had designed the cage; now, he was going to find the men he had locked inside it.