The Glitch in the Hero's Path

Chapter 3: The Archmage's Price

The cellar pit went silent, the air heavy with the scent of ozone and spilled blood. Ruan Sile stood in the archway, the silver locket dangling from his gloved finger like a fishing hook.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" Budi asked, his voice trembling as his fingers wiped sawdust from his silk shirt. "Because that would be a terrible way to end a perfectly good party."

Ruan stepped into the light, his gaze devoid of warmth. "Kill you? That would be a mercy for a piece of luggage that’s been misplaced."

"Luggage? Ouch. I’m an acquired taste, Ruan. Maybe you should try a different vintage."

"I don't have time for your deflective wit," Ruan said, tossing the locket. It landed at Budi’s feet. "You aren’t Budi. But you’re currently wearing his skin. How does it feel to be a puppet?"

"I'm more of a freelance contractor, really," Budi replied, snatching the locket. "Where’s the exit? I have an appointment."

"With Chairil Koko?" Ruan chuckled, a sound as sharp as glass. "You think that bottom-feeder can help you survive me? He’s a parasite."

"I prefer the term 'consultant,'" Budi retorted, heading for the shadows. "And he’s a lot less moody than you."

"Run along then. I want to see how long you last when you realize the price he charges isn't paid in coin."

Budi didn't look back. He sprinted through the damp corridors, his heart hammering against his ribs. The System’s interface flickered in his vision like a dying bulb.

[Navigation active: Target 'Chairil Koko' reached in 200 meters. Warning: Magic fluctuations detected.]

He shoved open a heavy iron door, stumbling into a room filled with floating ink-spatters and flickering candlelight. Chairil Koko was hunched over a table, his fingers dancing through the air as he wove strands of shimmering blue light.

"You're late," Chairil said without turning. "And you smell like a Duke’s ego and cheap sweat."

"The Duke caught up," Budi panted, leaning against the doorframe. "He knows. Everything."

Chairil spun around, his silver eyes narrowing. "Everything? Or just that you're a glitch in the script?"

"He had my locket, Chairil. He looked like he wanted to dissect me."

"He probably does," Chairil said, pacing toward him. "Did he touch you? Aside from the usual threats?"

"He cornered me. Why?"

Chairil stopped, his expression unreadable. "Because if he touched you while you were 'synced,' he might have left a tether. You’re becoming a magnet for the worst kind of attention, Budi."

"Can you fix it? The magic-resistance training?"

"Training implies time. We don't have time. We have a bond."

"A what?" Budi straightened up, alarm bells ringing in his head. "I didn't sign up for a roommate agreement."

"It's a conduit," Chairil said, closing the distance. "I channel my resistance into your soul. It’s like a firewall, but for your sanity."

"Is it painful? Tell me it’s not painful."

Chairil smirked, a dangerous, jagged thing. "You'll feel like your insides are being rearranged by a blender. But it beats being a Duke’s plaything."

"Wait, can we negotiate the intensity?"

"No," Chairil said, reaching out to grab Budi’s shoulders. "Hold still. And try not to scream. It’s annoying."

"I'll scream if I want to—!"

The world exploded in white light. Budi felt his knees buckle, his breath hitching as an icy, searing sensation tore through his chest. It felt as if his very identity was being pulled through a needle's eye.

"Focus!" Chairil’s voice echoed, sounding miles away. "Don't fight the pull, you idiot. Anchor yourself!"

"I’m... trying!" Budi choked out, his vision blurring. He grabbed Chairil’s wrists, his fingernails digging into the man’s skin. "Why is it so hot? I thought you were supposed to be the 'cold' one!"

"That's your own residual energy resisting the change," Chairil gritted out, his face pale. "Your soul is… stained. What did you do to get marked like this?"

"I didn't do anything! I just woke up here!"

"Don't lie to me," Chairil hissed, his eyes glowing with an ethereal violet hue. "I can see the sigil on your soul, Budi. It’s not just a glitch. You were summoned here for a reason, and it wasn't for a vacation."

"Sigil? What are you talking about?"

"Look down," Chairil commanded, his voice trembling with exertion.

Budi looked at his own chest, beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. A faint, intricate pattern was pulsating in sync with his heartbeat—a dark, jagged mark that seemed to be consuming his own skin.

"Is that… part of the system?" Budi gasped, the room spinning.

"No," Chairil whispered, dropping his hands as the light faded. "That’s a death warrant. It’s a tracking seal. Whoever put that on you didn't just want you replaced—they wanted you hunted."

Budi collapsed onto the stone floor, his lungs burning. "Hunted by who?"

Chairil walked to the window, staring out into the dark. "By everyone, Budi. And now that you've triggered the bond, the countdown has started. You aren't just hiding from the Duke anymore."

"Then who am I hiding from?"

Chairil turned back, his expression grim. "From the one who sent you here in the first place."

A heavy silence filled the room, punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic ticking of a clock that didn't seem to be counting seconds, but heartbeats.

"One more thing," Chairil said, his voice barely a whisper. "That mark? It’s not just for tracking. It’s a lock. And the key isn't in this world."

"What does that mean?" Budi asked, his voice shaking.

Chairil stepped into the shadows, his face darkening. "It means you’re not the protagonist of this story, Budi. You’re the sacrifice."

A notification chimed in the air—sharp, loud, and menacingly red.

[System Alert: Unauthorized Entity access detected. The 'Sacrifice Protocol' has been initiated. Remaining time: 00:59:59.]

"Chairil, what just happened?" Budi scrambled up, but the door behind him began to solidify, the iron turning into black stone. "Chairil!"

"It’s too late to run," Chairil said, his voice echoing from the shadows as the room began to dissolve into static. "The Duke is coming. And he isn't here to talk."

A heavy thud against the stone door silenced the room. Then, a voice—cold, calm, and terrifyingly familiar—drifted through the cracks.

"Open the door, Budi. I know you're in there. And I know exactly what you’ve become."