The Judgment Hall was already full before the bells stopped ringing. Stone benches rose in steps on all sides, packed tight with elders and disciples. Whispering filled the air like insects trapped in a jar.At the center of the hall, a wide circle was carved into the floor. Runes glowed dull red along its edge. Charlie knelt inside it, alone.His wrists were locked behind his back. Black suppression chains wrapped his arms and chest, pressed into his skin, and pulsed at a steady rhythm. Each pulse made his shoulders jerk.Two enforcers stood behind him. Their armor was clean and polished. Their hands never left their weapons.Charlie kept his head level. His eyes stayed forward. He did not look at the crowd. A gong struck once. The whispers died.An elder stood from the high platform. He was thin and bent, with a voice that carried without effort. He unrolled a long scroll and held it with both hands. “Charlie,” he said. The name echoed and faded.Charlie did not answer. The elder be

Charlie lay on his side in the ravine. Dust stuck to his face and mixed with blood. His chest rose, then stopped, then rose again.His heartbeat skipped. It felt wrong, like a wheel catching on broken stone. His fingers twitched and went still.A thin stream of blood ran from his mouth. It soaked into the dirt and vanished. The wind moved above him. It did not reach the bottom.Charlie tried to breathe. Air scraped his throat. He coughed once and red spilled out.His vision narrowed. The rocks around him blurred and then sharpened in pulses. Each pulse came slower than the last.His hand slid across the ground. He grabbed at nothing. His heartbeat stuttered again. A long pause followed. Then a weak thud.His eyes rolled back. He forced them open. He saw faces. A boy with a broken arm on a dirty cot. A woman with fever shaking under a thin blanket. An old man gripping his wrist, eyes wide, breath short.Charlie pressed his lips together. His jaw shook. Those faces faded. Darkness close

The room was dark except for the thin light from the ceiling crack. Dust hung in the air and moved when Charlie shifted his weight.He sat against the wall with his knees bent. His right hand pressed against his left forearm, where the skin was still red and wet.A faint sound ticked near his ear. It was not mechanical. It was flat and even, like a heartbeat with no body.The air in front of him blurred. A pale rectangle formed, sharp at the edges.Charlie froze. His fingers tightened on his sleeve. The rectangle stayed still. White text appeared inside it.[System Interface Unlocked]The words did not flicker. They did not glow. They were simply there.Charlie leaned forward a few inches. His breath stayed slow, but his shoulders lifted. Another line appeared.[User Status: Stable]The ticking sound continued. Charlie turned his head, looking for a source. There was nothing on the walls. No device on the floor.The rectangle shifted to the left, matching his movement. Charlie stopped

The fox lay on its side in the dirt. Its chest rose once, then again. Blood still darkened its fur.Charlie stood a few steps away. He did not move. His hands stayed open, fingers stiff. The fox twitched. One leg kicked. Its ears flicked.Charlie took a step back. Gravel slid under his boot. The fox rolled onto its belly. It pushed itself up with shaking legs. The wound along its ribs had closed. Only a thin line remained.Charlie’s jaw tightened. He watched the fox breathe. Each breath came easier.The fox shook itself. Dried blood cracked and fell away. Its eyes locked on Charlie.Charlie felt his arms go heavy. The weight settled into his muscles. His shoulders sank.He clenched his fists. The skin on his forearms pulled tight. The fox took a step. Then another. Its gait steadied fast.Charlie swallowed. His throat felt dry. His stomach twisted. The fox bared its teeth. A low sound came from its chest.Charlie’s knees bent without thought. He lowered his center. His muscles felt pa

Charlie stood in the broken clinic and did not move. Water dripped from a cracked pipe in the ceiling. Blood mixed with it on the floor and ran in thin red lines toward a drain that did not work. The lights above him flickered and buzzed, going dim, then bright again, like the room was breathing.Three people lay on cots. The man on the left held his chest with both hands. Every breath made a wet sound. His eyes were open, wide and glassy, and they followed Charlie wherever he moved.The woman near the wall shook as if the cold had reached her bones. Her leg was crushed beneath torn cloth and metal. Bone showed through. Her hands clawed at the sheets without knowing it. The third body lay still. Too still.Charlie looked at them one time. Just one. He did not speak. He did not promise anything. He did not pray.He lifted both hands. His fingers spread apart, slow and careful, as if the air itself might break. Near his left wrist, a faint light appeared. The system icon flickered into