THE GLASS GOD: Heir of the living Grid

"Please, just another week," Lyra pleaded, her voice cracking against the damp brick of the alleyway.

I stepped out from behind the rusted shipping container, my heart hammering against my ribs. Three men surrounded her, their Signal-Blades humming with a lethal, low-frequency buzz. The leader, a brute named Vane with a jagged scar across his jaw, spat on the ground.

"Week’s up, Lyra," Vane growled. "The Syndicate doesn't do extensions. We do collections."

"Let her go, Vane!" I shouted, stepping into the dim light. I gripped my scrap-metal pipe, though it felt like a toothpick against their tech.

Vane turned, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Elion. The little hero. You’re late for your own funeral."

"I have the credits," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "Just let her step away."

"Liars get their tongues cut out," the man to Vane’s left sneered, thumbing the activation switch on his blade. The air shimmered with heat. "Search him."

"Stay back!" I swung the pipe, but Vane caught it mid-air with one hand, his grip like a hydraulic vice.

"Is this a joke?" Vane laughed, wrenching the pipe from my hand and tossing it aside. He backhanded me, the force sending me spinning into the trash heaps. "You brought a stick to a frequency fight?"

"Elion, run!" Lyra screamed as the third man grabbed her by the hair.

"Shut up, girl," the man snapped, shoving her toward the ground.

I scrambled up, my vision blurring. "I said, leave her alone!"

I lunged, not for Vane, but for the Caster-Cell strapped to his belt—the power source for their blades. If I could short it, we had a chance. My fingers grazed the cold casing.

"Watch it!" Vane roared, kicking me square in the chest. I hit the wall hard, the wind leaving my lungs in a silent gasp.

Vane stood over me, his Signal-Blade glowing a violent violet. "You want to play with power? Here. Have some."

He didn't stab me. He unclipped the Caster-Cell and held it inches from my face. It was pulsing red—critical overload.

"Vane, wait! That’ll take us all out!" one of his goons shouted, backing away.

"He’s a gutter-rat," Vane hissed, his eyes manic. "He needs to learn what happens when you touch Syndicate property."

"No!" Lyra shrieked.

Vane slammed the overloaded cell into my chest and kicked me back into a puddle of stagnant water. "Die in the static, kid."

The world turned white.

A high-pitched scream tore through the air—mine, then Lyra’s, then a deafening roar of pure energy. The Caster-Cell detonated. I felt my skin sear, my bones shatter, and then, a sensation of being ripped apart atom by atom.

*System Overload.*

*Scanning for Host...*

*Unauthorized Frequency Detected...*

The pain stopped. It didn't fade; it just ceased to be. I was floating in a sea of golden static, binary code screaming past my consciousness like a frantic heartbeat.

*Operator Protocol Initiated.*

*Syncing... 100%.*

"Is he dead?"

The voice sounded like it was coming from miles underwater.

"Look at the mess," another voice grumbled. "Vane, you almost took my arm off with that blast."

"Who cares? The kid’s charcoal," Vane’s voice was clear now. Footsteps splashed in the puddle near my head. "Check the girl. If she’s still breathing, she’s coming with us to work off the debt."

"Elion..." Lyra sobbed. "You monsters..."

"Get her up," Vane commanded.

I felt a surge of something that wasn't blood rushing through my veins. It was hot, electric, and tasted like ozone. My fingers twitched.

"Wait," one of the men gasped. "Vane... look at his chest."

"What? It’s a corpse."

"Corpses don't smoke gold."

I opened my eyes.

The alley didn't look the same. The world was draped in layers of glowing data, strings of light connecting the blades to the men, and the men to the city's grid. I could see the pulse of their hearts, the frequency of their breath.

I pushed myself up. My movements were fluid, devoid of the agony that should have been there.

Vane fell back, his face turning pale. "What the hell? You were blown to pieces!"

I didn't speak. I couldn't. The "Operator" frequency was humming in my throat, a silent command waiting to be unleashed.

"Kill him again!" Vane yelled, lunging forward with his Signal-Blade.

I didn't flinch. I reached out and caught the shimmering energy blade with my bare hand. The violet light hissed, turned gold, and shattered like glass under my touch.

Vane froze, his mouth hanging open. "That’s... that's impossible. That’s Ancient tech."

I looked up at him, and I knew my eyes weren't human anymore. They were burning with the golden script of a forgotten world.

"My turn," I whispered.

The golden light from my eyes flared, blinding the alley, and the ground beneath us began to vibrate with a sound that wasn't noise—it was a command.