Seyfe stood in front of the platform, the mechanical Veiler standing next to him, its face a cold, impassive screen that showed only a series of runes and symbols. It was an automated system, built to ensure that every cadet went through the necessary stages without error, but Seyfe couldn't help feeling a sense of unease. Something about the machine felt too... perfect.
"Commence stabilization," the machine's voice echoed through the room, its tone completely neutral.
Seyfe placed his hand on the panel in front of him. Almost immediately, the mechanical arms of the platform moved, placing the Weaver Core into his chest, and the first stage began. The machine's cold voice continued in the background, explaining the procedure as it unfolded.
"Runic alignment in progress. Stabilizing core systems."
The runes began to flash in Seyfe's vision, each one slipping into place with precision. He didn't feel any pain—just a strange tingling sensation as the core's energy synchronized with his body.
The flashing lights around him were blinding, yet Seyfe kept his focus. The stabilization phase was all about allowing the core to adjust naturally. The energy flowed in waves, ebbing and surging, but Seyfe kept his breathing steady. He could hear the machine's calm voice repeating its diagnostic as the runes settled into place.
"Stabilization complete," the machine said, its tone unchanged. "Proceed to numerical assignment."
The next phase began almost immediately. The machine's voice, while emotionless, somehow had an underlying urgency as it guided him through the next step.
"Assign procurement points. You have five points available. Please choose wisely."
Before Seyfe could even fully comprehend what was happening, a digital interface appeared in his vision, showing him a series of procurements. Each one was outlined clearly, and he could feel the weight of the decision bearing down on him. He thought through his choices carefully, knowing that the wrong selection could lead to complications.
After a few moments, he finalized his selections:
Veil Sensitivity (1 point)
Enhancing his awareness of hidden forces and energies, crucial for both avoiding ambushes and understanding his opponents better.
Disruption Resistance (1 point)
His distrust of external control and his desire to protect his autonomy led him to choose this, allowing him to withstand disruptions in his focus.
Reflex Weaving (1 point)
He needed to be faster in combat—this would enhance his agility and weaving speed, giving him the upper hand in high-stress situations.
Vigor (1 point)
Strength and stamina were essential, especially considering the battles he had already faced. This would allow him to endure longer, without tiring as quickly.
Flux Efficiency (1 point)
A necessary choice for Seyfe, as the flow of energy would need to be harnessed effectively. This would reduce the strain on his body and allow him to use the energy of the Weaver Core with greater precision.
Once he confirmed his choices, the machine's screen flickered, processing the selections.
"Procurement assignment complete," the machine said, its voice void of judgment. "Proceed to the final phase. Core initialization at 45%."
Seyfe felt a twinge of pride as he heard the percentage—he was making progress, and the next phase was within reach.
The final phase was where everything would come together. The core would be fully initialized, awakening the latent potential within Seyfe and aligning it with the unique engravings he had been born with. He braced himself, the anticipation running through him like electricity.
"Begin convene phase," the machine ordered.
The runes flashed once more, the glow more intense than before. Seyfe gripped the sides of the platform, steadying himself as the machine monitored his core's evolution.
"Warning: Flux imbalance detected."
Seyfe's heart skipped a beat as a surge of energy coursed through him, but it was chaotic. His body tensed under the force, and the machine continued its cold, mechanical assessment.
"Runic interaction conflict detected: Veil Sensitivity and Flux Efficiency incompatible. Adjusting core evolution parameters."
Seyfe gritted his teeth, feeling the strain as his body adjusted to the conflicting energies. The system tried to correct itself, but Seyfe could feel it was taking longer than expected. His vision blurred, and a headache began to set in as the energies tried to stabilize within his body. It was as if his very essence was being pulled in two different directions, struggling to find balance.
The machine's voice remained neutral, but Seyfe could tell that it was acknowledging a failure, albeit in its own unfeeling way. He felt drained—physically and mentally. The core had not fully evolved as he had hoped, but it had stabilized enough for him to move forward.
He exhaled deeply, his muscles still tingling with the aftershock of the failed initialization. He knew he had done everything he could, but the core was incomplete. Still, there was something about the process that left him both frustrated and intrigued—he knew that he had more to learn.
Despite the incomplete core, Seyfe was still able to graduate. Aki, who had observed the process, gave him a brief but reassuring look as they passed him his graduation certificate.
"You've made it through," Aki said. "Even with the incomplete core, you've proven yourself capable. The Weaver Core is a journey, not a destination."
Seyfe took the certificate, his mind racing. He had made it—graduated as a full-fledged Veiler, even if his core was still only 27% initialized. That didn't mean he was done. It only meant there was more for him to discover.
The rest of the Overseer Squadron cadets were there too, all with their own successes and challenges. But for Seyfe, the ceremony felt more like the beginning than the end. The future was wide open, and he was ready to face whatever came next, incomplete core or not.
"Next time," Seyfe muttered to himself, a small smirk crossing his face, "I'll get it right."
After the graduation ceremony, Seyfe found himself standing at the edge of the academy grounds, staring into the city's chaotic sprawl. For all the applause, rites, and formality of becoming a full-fledged Veiler, he felt nothing. No excitement, no pride. Just emptiness—and the creeping dread of reality settling in.
He had nowhere to go. No real home beyond the cramped academy dorms, and even that had now been stripped away. The city, now unfamiliar and unwelcoming, seemed to mock him with its towering structures and indifferent crowds. The few credits left in his account wouldn't last the week, and his debts—piled high from borrowed equipment, sustenance rations, and overdue academy charges—loomed like a guillotine.
But Seyfe had a plan. Or at least, a lead.
Tucked deep inside his Cellik's archive, buried in one of Garuda Hinikaya's old combat lessons, was a cryptic hint—one only he had noticed. In the background of a training clip, Garuda had paused briefly, gesturing vaguely behind him. A barely-visible map marked with a faded zone designation: T-97. And then, clearer than anything else in the footage, the words:"If you're watching this, I've probably been dead a while. My Cellik Card is stashed in T-97. Don't lose it—it's the last of me left that still works."
It wasn't much. The clip cut short after that, as if deliberately redacted.
No one else had mentioned the card. Not the instructors. Not the cadets. Not even in the official histories of Garuda that the academy preserved. Whatever the card was—currency, data, credentials—Garuda had never meant for anyone to know it existed… except maybe someone like Seyfe, who would dig far enough and be desperate enough to chase it.
Zone T-97, however, remained an enigma. It didn't appear on official maps, and searches through academy records turned up nothing but access-denied errors. It wasn't just a restricted area—it was forgotten, erased. Which made it all the more likely that Garuda had indeed hidden something there.
Now, alone in the city with no direction but a ghost's breadcrumb trail, Seyfe had made up his mind. Whatever danger lay in T-97, whatever remnants of Garuda's past lingered there—it was his best shot. If the Cellik Card really did exist, and if it held even a fraction of what Garuda once wielded, then it could wipe out Seyfe's debts, maybe even grant him access to Veiler-class equipment, resources, or networks.
He stared down at his Cellik, the archived video paused on the last frame of Garuda's smirk.
"Find the path. Follow the signal."
That phrase again.
A message? A code? A literal signal?
He didn't know yet. But the look in Garuda's eyes told Seyfe one thing:
This wasn't going to be easy.
And yet, Seyfe smiled—just a little.Because hard was all he ever knew.
Before chasing ghosts and relics from a dead man's map, Seyfe had one thing left to do—something small, but not something he could forget.
The baby.
He'd found it before everything spiraled, before that fractured layer phase had yanked him into a pocket of limbo where Aki eventually pulled him out.
Now, free from the academy and its rigid structure, left with only debt and a dead man's trail to follow, Seyfe found himself taking a different route first—toward a promise he never made, but couldn't shake off.
He found Aki at one of the district stations, locked in conversation with another handler. She dismissed them with a glance and turned to Seyfe, already anticipating a question.
"What made you come here again?," she said dryly, then added, "What is it?"
"The baby," Seyfe said. "From the broken layer collapse where we met before. Where was it taken?"
Aki regarded him for a moment, then nodded. "Central Shelter Hub. Block C. Stable condition. I made sure it was transferred properly."
Seyfe didn't respond immediately, only took the access chip she offered.
"Don't expect much," she added, softer this time. "They usually don't get visitors."
"Maybe one won't hurt," he muttered under his breath as he walked off.
Still in the cadet uniform—his only real clothing—he traveled to the shelter. The city beyond the academy gates felt more alien now than ever: towering skyscrapers draped in data screens, low-level drones humming past cracked concrete, people moving too fast, others not moving at all.
The Central Shelter Hub was quiet, pristine, a stark contrast to the rest of the sector.
Inside, a nurse led him to the infant care ward without question. His ID now carried the Veiler marker.
There, behind tempered glass and gentle thermal lights, was the baby.
Seyfe stared.
It was smaller than he remembered, or maybe it had always been that small, curled in on itself like something too new for this world.
He didn't reach for the glass. Just stood there, watching it breathe.
"You're still here," he said quietly. "Still fighting."
No parents had come forward. No names listed. Just a date, and a location tag marked T-9 Layer Fracture Response.
"Guess that makes two of us."
He didn't stay long. Didn't want to pretend this was more than a check-in. But as he left the ward, he looked back one last time.
"Next time," he whispered, "I'll have a name to give you."