The "Notice of Eviction" hung in the sky like a black bruise, leaking a substance that wasn't ink or shadow, but "Conceptual Solvent." Wherever the liquid touched, the beautiful, complex architecture of the New Horizon dissolved into generic, gray boxes. The glowing grass was becoming flat, green textures; the Ivory Tower was losing its intricate carvings, becoming a simple, unadorned cylinder."He's... he's 'Optimizing' us," Marcus whispered, staring at his hands. His glowing fiber-optic lab coat had turned into a cheap, polyester vest. "He’s reducing our 'Polygon Count' to save on reality-memory!"The Landlord’s Guard—Unit 00—stepped further into the Quad. His presence was like a vacuum, sucking the personality out of the room. "The Landlord likes things clean, Alistair. Efficient. Five hundred students with unique 'Echoes'? That’s a processing nightmare. We’re going to re-format them into a 'Standardized Background Crowd.' They’ll have three lines of dialogue each, and they’ll all

The crate sat in the middle of the Quad like an unexploded bomb. It was six feet tall, made of "Plot-Resistant Cedar," and bound in chains that hummed with the sound of a stock market ticker tape.Alistair Cain stood before it, leaning on his broom. Beside him, Marcus was scanning the wood with a device that looked suspiciously like a modified supermarket price-checker."It’s definitely Jin," Marcus whispered. "The bio-signature is 40% greed, 30% panic, and 30% high-end cologne. But there’s something else in there. Something... heavy.""Open it," Alistair said.Marcus hit the release. The chains didn't fall; they evaporated into "Credit Scores." The lid of the crate didn't just open; it presented itself.Jin stepped out. He wasn't in his "Solar Silk" suit anymore. He was wearing a "Going Out of Business" t-shirt and cargo shorts, looking like a man who had spent the last three chapters hiding in a cosmic basement. But in his hand, he clutched a briefcase made of Solid Irony."Alistair

The sky of the New Horizon didn't turn blue or black; it turned Analytical.The massive, floating eyes—the Critics—didn't fire lasers or summon monsters. They cast beams of "Comparative Logic." Where the beam touched, a small floating box appeared, filled with white text: [Inconsistent Character Motivation], [Pacing Issue], [Trope Overuse]."Alistair, the campus is being... reviewed!" Marcus shouted, his eyes wide as he watched the "Academic Annex" start to translucent under the gaze of a Critic. "They aren't destroying the buildings; they're making them 'Flawed.' And in the Zero-Dimension, if a structure is deemed 'Badly Designed,' it loses its right to be solid!""Don't let them look at the students!" Alistair commanded, his Glitched Badge pulsing with erratic, rainbow-colored light. "If they find a 'Plot Hole' in a person, that person vanishes!"One of the Critics, a massive entity with a pupil shaped like a silver pen, turned its gaze toward Ruby.[Unlikely Power-Up], the text box

The "Vaulting" felt like a slow, cold winter.The edges of the Quad were turning into a static-filled "Thumbnail." The students didn't disappear, but they became "Non-Interactive." Ruby tried to shout, but her words appeared as a text-box that said: [Content Unavailable in your Region]."They're locking the doors from the outside," Marcus whispered, his laptop screen showing a giant, golden padlock icon over the university’s core directory. "We aren't being deleted, Alistair. We're being 'Archived.' The Syndicate thinks we're too unpredictable to be 'Live,' so they're putting us in a digital museum where no one can click on us."Alistair looked at the "Glass Badge." It was dimming. Without the "Gaze" of the readers, the reality of the New Horizon was losing its fuel. "If we stay in the Vault, we stop being a story. We become 'Data.' And data doesn't have a soul.""So how do we get out?" Elena asked, her violet fire now just a flickering candle-light. "The 'Close' button is already at

The security booth at Oakhaven Technical Institute was three sizes too small, smelled of stale coffee, and was currently vibrating due to a "Gravity Flu" originating from the Physics Lab.Maya Vance (no relation to Leo, or so the paperwork claimed) adjusted her blue polyester cap and sighed. She was twenty-one, a dropout from the Lunar Academy, and currently the only thing standing between a group of rowdy "Reality-Benders" and the faculty lounge."Look, kid," a voice crackled over the ancient radio. It was the Head of Maintenance, a man who seemed to be made entirely of cigar smoke and bitterness. "I know it’s your first night, but Oakhaven isn't your average trade school. We’re built on a 'Narrative Fault Line.' Keep your eyes on the 'Gray Light.' If it starts flickering, you run.""The Gray Light?" Maya muttered, looking at the flickering fluorescent bulb above her head. "I thought my job was just to check IDs and make sure no one summons a Lesser Demon in the parking lot.""IDs ar