THE CHOSEN ERROR

Chapter 3: The Monitor’s Warning

Aiden watched Rhea carefully. Every movement. Every blink. “Corrupted?” he asked, voice steady. “What does that mean?” Rhea lowered her badge. “Not everyone who wakes up with a system ends up human.” The rain had stopped, but the city air still clung to his skin like a second, colder skin. Rhea stepped closer, her boots splashing in a shallow puddle.

“When a system links to someone, it amplifies what’s already inside them,” she said. “Pain. Anger. Desire. The system doesn’t care how you use power just that you do.” “And who decides what’s ‘corrupted’?” Aiden asked. “Sometimes,” she replied, “no one has to. You’ll know when you see one.” Her gaze sharpened. “Tell me about your activation.”

Aiden hesitated. The system was still hovering quietly at the edge of his mind, the glowing panel gone but not forgotten. “I nearly died,” he said finally. “Someone tried to kill me. The system came online just before I passed out.” “And your first task?” He looked away. “Stand and walk.” She nodded, unsurprised.

“The basics. Survival. Systems usually start there. But the fact you completed it… it means something chose you for a reason.” Aiden folded his arms. “Is this some divine purpose speech?” “No,” she said. “It’s a warning.”

SYSTEM NOTICE: Conversation Logged. New Keywords Stored: “Monitor,” “Corrupted,” “Chosen.”

“Why are you really here?” he asked. “I’m not your enemy, Aiden,” she said. “But if you’re not careful, you’ll become your own.” She reached into her coat again, slower this time, and pulled out a slim metallic card. When she tapped it against the wall, a small projection lit up grainy footage from a security camera.

A man sprinting across a rooftop clad in a tattered cloak, lightning arcing from his fingertips before leaping across a ten-story drop like gravity was a joke. A second clip: that same man reducing a patrol car to molten slag with a flick of his hand. Screams. Static. Silence. Aiden stared, jaw clenched. “He’s not the only one,” Rhea said. “But he’s the one closest to you.

He surfaced downtown two nights ago. We think he’s targeting early system users like you. Those who haven’t stabilized yet.” Aiden’s stomach twisted. “Why?” “Because he can absorb their fragments.” “What?” She looked at him grimly. “When a system user dies, their code doesn’t vanish. It gets left behind. Some people… harvest it.”

NEW ALERT: Dangerous Entity Detected CODE NAME: HARROW

Threat Level: RED
Suggested Action: Avoid Direct Conflict Until Tier Upgrade

Aiden stepped back from the projection. “You’re saying this guy Harrow is killing people like me to get stronger?” “Not just stronger,” Rhea said. “Unstoppable. And the worst part? He’s not the only predator out there.” The world had shifted. Again. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore. Now there were others.

Aiden rubbed his face with both hands. “Why tell me all this?” “Because you’re about to attract attention,” she said. “If you don’t learn fast, someone’s going to rip that system right out of you.” “And you’re offering…

what? Protection?” She smirked faintly. “Training. Guidance. Maybe even answers.” “Why help me?” Rhea’s expression flickered for just a second something haunted beneath the surface. “Because I didn’t get any,” she said. “When I awakened, no one came.

I had to bury five people before I realized what was happening.” Aiden stared. “You have a system too?” She pulled up her sleeve. Beneath her skin, faint lines of glowing circuitry pulsed like veins. “Not anymore,” she said. “Mine burned out.” “What happens when that ?” “You don’t want to know.”

SYSTEM NOTE: User Status – Rhea (Burned Host)Class: Former Tier 3 // Current: Null
Emotional Tag: Regret

Aiden exhaled slowly. The weight of this new world pressed heavier than before. He didn’t ask what Rhea meant by buried. He didn’t have to. “You’re not safe here anymore,” she said.

“I don’t have anywhere else.” “You do now,” she said, turning away. “Come on. I’ll take you somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can start training before Harrow finds you.” The place she brought him wasn’t a base.

Not a lab. Not a bunker. It was a forgotten subway platform, three stories beneath the city’s bones. Lights flickered weakly above rusted rails, and moss grew between cracked tiles.

But it was protected. That mattered more. As Aiden stepped off the last stair, he noticed something strange: the silence felt... shielded, like the walls themselves were pushing back the city’s chaos.

“What is this place?” “Zone Zero,” Rhea said. “The system signal’s weak here. Corrupted can’t track you. Not easily, anyway.” She pointed to a stack of worn mats and concrete weights piled near a steel door.

“Start with the basics. Strength. Speed. Reflex. You’re not ready to fight yet, but you will be.” He eyed the gear. “So we’re doing this old-school?” She nodded. “System abilities are shortcuts. Muscle memory is insurance. Learn to fight without the system then it’ll enhance you, not control you.”

SYSTEM TASK UNLOCKED: Self-Training Module – Week 1

 Objective: Complete Physical Routine (3 Days)

 Reward: Passive Upgrade – Stamina Recovery +1

“The system will push you. Break you. But only you decide what gets rebuilt.”The hours passed in silence, broken only by the grind of weights, the thump of fists hitting pads, and the soft buzz of occasional system alerts. Sweat soaked his shirt. His muscles screamed.

And yet for once it wasn’t misery. It was focus. A goal. He collapsed against the wall, chest heaving. Rhea tossed him a bottle of water. “You're not bad,” she said. He smirked. “I’ve been lifting crates for years.” She hesitated, then asked, “Did you feel anything…

off during your first mission?” “Like what?” She looked away. “Like something else was watching?” Aiden’s stomach twisted.

SYSTEM WARNING: Unauthorized Surveillance Attempt Detected – Tracing...

“...Yes,” he said. “Something was there. After the explosion. Before I activated.” Rhea’s eyes darkened. “You weren’t just chosen,” she said. “You were found.”