Chapter 23

The bus glided smoothly for a while, making the detour through the bypass route well worth it. Outside, there was nothing to see but the blue data net, so everyone's attention soon turned inward, toward each other. Clea's conversation with Saints especially caught my eye.

"Saints, you know what?"

"W-what... is it?"

Saints was terrified of Clea. It dated back to when we'd first introduced ourselves—she'd once whacked him with a book and called him a wolf. His voice carried the trauma of that memory as he barely managed to talk to her.

"Neige hates guys."

"...Gasp."

Something was getting twisted in the rumors. Saints pondered Clea's bombshell for a deep moment, then stood up from his seat in the bus and plopped down next to me.

"Neige..."

"Yeah?"

"Um... what do you think about me becoming a girl?"

Was Clea eavesdropping? She suddenly slammed her head into the seat in front of her.

"Clea, this is really a bus, you know. You're gonna break the data. Calm down."

I chimed in, and Clea slowly lifted her head, staring up at the bus ceiling.

I could understand her reaction. I had no idea what Saints was even talking about right now.

"Saints... why would you rip off something that's perfectly fine?"

"Is that... so?"

"It might be something someone else lost. Having it is a good thing."

"But if Neige hates me because of it..."

"No, I don't hate you, Saints. Got it?"

"Yeah..."

Our Saints here was the type to spout nonsense with those clear eyes of his. Was this because of the demon? No, even demons couldn't influence someone this much.

I glanced toward the front seats where Svetlana ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sat, catching her eye. She quickly sized up the situation and spoke.

"Miss, come up front for a bit..."

"Got it, sis."

Saved. I took her seat for a moment, relaxing. I'd definitely made two friends, but they were both handfuls. Must be because they're twelve. They'd grow out of it, right? Thinking that, I stretched out fully in the chair.

Come to think of it, it was amazing that this bus—a transmission program—could give me a sense of "comfort." I'd heard people outside the company used cyberspace like a drug. This must be the principle behind it. What was it called? Brain Breaking? Tricking the brain for a perfect experience, something like that? Didn't seem healthy for the noggin anyway. I'd never touch it. My luxuries were hover rides and sweet snacks—that was plenty.

After my brief indulgence, I thanked Svetlana and returned to the back. This time, Ayaka slid into the seat beside me. We were strangers, and this closeness felt a bit much.

Ayaka sat silently for a while, deep in thought, then finally spoke up.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

She was a year older but using formal speech, so I matched her politeness.

"I watched the whole tournament footage. You were incredible."

Her voice was mature and composed for a thirteen-year-old, matching her elegant, ladylike appearance.

"...Could you teach me how you study?"

An unexpected model-student request. Surprised, I looked at her—her face flushed, eyes closed in embarrassment. Shy, huh? But pushing past that to want to learn? Impressive, Ayaka.

One problem, though. I'd gotten lucky with V, so I couldn't really teach her study tips.

"Just do it, and it works."

"Pardon? 'Just do it'—what does that...?"

Ayaka blinked in confusion, then nodded with an "aha."

"I must still seem lacking to you. With skills that send opponents packing in seconds."

Why was she interpreting it her own way? Was this part of her noble vibe too?

"Miss Clea must exceed your standards, then. That's why you're close. Understood. I'll refine myself more."

Ayaka left those words and stood up on her own, even bowing slightly as if she'd imposed on me. She'd handle her own efforts, so that was good, right? That meant I'd chatted with three out of the four others, excluding me. Curious about the last one, I glanced at Lorenzo. He sat alone, lost in serious thought.

Not the talkative type, huh. Better not bother him.

That was how I passed the time chatting with my new friends—until.

"Stopping here. Safe distance."

"Yes, Team Leader."

The lead exploration team member moved, and—

"Everyone off!"

The bus came to a halt.

"This is Mole One. Target reached."

"All clear. Connect."

With the exploration team's comms, the far edge of the data net crackled like noise, rippling and distorting. The twisted net connected to another space beyond, unfolding like a fan from a tunnel exit. Svetlana and her secretaries lined up at the tunnel's end.

"Whoa... it's bigger than I thought."

I couldn't help but gasp. The world formed from noise, distortion, and unstable data nets—the Dead Sector—lay before us.

No demon movement inside. Svetlana nodded back at us. The team leader responded in kind.

"Everything ahead is wrecked by radiation—all electronics fried. Cyberspace is extremely unstable. Do not enter carelessly. You could die."

The kids tensed at "die." The leader continued.

"We'll send in cloned data of ourselves, retrieve it, and analyze what happens inside. That's today's exercise."

"Alright, scatter. For safety, we'll do this one-on-one."

The four team members each took one kid—excluding me. The leader nodded to Svetlana, who nodded back and led me elsewhere.

Pre-arranged, huh.

"This way, miss."

Following her out of the tunnel, we walked just outside the Dead Sector's boundary. One slip, and data destruction. That's why one-on-one training.

How long had we walked? Svetlana scanned around, nodded to her secretaries.

"This should be out of sight. Begin, miss."

"Okay, let's do it."

First attempt: as safe as a practice run. I create a clone. Nothing inside that could affect me—no risks. Just a puppet for orders and info relay.

Finally, embed the spider's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠code that nested here. Won't work miracles now, but V and I excel at fixing errors. Failure is my best asset.

"...Good. Here goes."

Eyes closed, I pilot the clone forward. Crossing the boundary hits me with a first-time sensation: countless bullets piercing my body. Machine-gun fire, but no pain. Spider code activates—ineffective. Data collapses fast, noise piling on vision, hearing, touch. Still, one step, one step forward. A few paces in, clone fully breaks—back to body.

"...I get it."

"Pardon?"

A secretary startled at my mutter, but my focus was on insight. Radiation is just "lines." Not everything crumbles—spaces between lines persist, like ruins. That's why cyberspace lingers as Dead Sector. Our eyes can't distinguish intact from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠destroyed.

But if I can? Spider code clicked. Like a real spider treading web ends. Walk the data edges through Dead Sector.

Right, V?

Grant clone unique spider-code ability: dub it "Safe Zone Search Code." Clone scatters dummy data. Most fries on radiation, but survivors dodge lines—safe zones. Tiny, but enough en masse for movement space. Fragment all clone data, scatter to zones.

Pilot into Dead Sector boldly. Search code works; data scatters, clone flickers unstable. But integrity holds at 90%. Preserving data inside successfully.

"Impossible."

"How...?"

Secretaries' awe. Clone turns, I smile through it at Svetlana.

"Sis, see? Holding integrity here."

"I see. Truly... the chairman's successor."

Even Svetlana was impressed—rare praise. Achievement swelled.

"Life's so unfair. Same species?"

"Team leader should've seen. He'd chain-smoke all day."

Mixed admiration from secretaries as I eyed the depths. Radiation thickens deeper. Remote won't cut it—need body part. Risky, but confirmed success. Rebuild clone, infuse heavy search code, add mental data fragment. How far?

Melted core at end? Safe zones there? Must go—prime data spot. Normals don't reach meaningful depths. I'm no normal. Thrill overrides fear.

Life's life.

"Sis, be back soon. Need focus... guard my body."

"Yes, miss. Standing by. Be careful."

Forget body, pour focus into clone. Each step: worse noise, harsher environs. Path vanishes in static—fear creeps. Then, data shards catch eye. Pick carefully.

V, what's this?

V's slower—brain strain. Junk disappointing, but first haul can't be jackpot. Press on, grabbing shards.

View babies at home, date outside work. Risking life for this? Worth it? Doubt at dismal finds—then, denser noise room.

...What's here?

Edge in carefully, touch net.

Shielded in normal plants—lowest rads. Now worst, proving collapse. Better than core, though... Form data weapon with search code, probe inside.

"Ugh..."

Voice slipped—headache crushing. Rad so high, safe zones microscopic. Counter needs massive compute. Spider couldn't hack this depth?

But I can. Weapon shakes—no collapse. Dissolve, extend hand: shoulder, leg, torso, head. Headache worsens—tolerable.

Thanks to your torture sessions, headache immunity.

Don't waste compute on that now.

Immunity won't last. Search fast, exit. Commit—fully enter. Spot what I least wanted: cyberdemon?

Crazy cyberdemon?

Even that spider-nester couldn't enter? Unique spot, unique look: red data skin, dragon-like fantasy over human. Robed like a judge, too. It pondered scattered data—like a medieval scholar studying math.

It spotted me. Froze, staring—like me. Silent standoff. I form data weapon, battle ready—it raises hand.

"Uh...?"

Light-years beyond spider's speech. Dissolve weapon—it nods.

Brain parses: All cyberdemons ex-human AIs. Not all mindless beasts. But no reports of this behavior—even ImmuneWire DB. Unimaginable without seeing.

"...Data. From ten humans who stayed here."

Friendly. Copies two data chunks to me.

V, check.

"Yes. What are you? First demon like this."

I knew it. Best in iterated cooperation/betrayal: cooperate first, then mirror opponent. Simple, yet dominates complex strategies.

"So cooperating first?"

Demon bows nobly.

"Weird you've stayed hidden."

"...Betrayal?"

Reactor main control: at least my level, maybe more. Undetected makes sense.

"...Why the look?"

"Felt that from human fiction?"

Mass-produced novel-fueled chuuni AI? [Agreed.] But it can do it. Unchecked, it'd reach there.

"Why spill all this?"

"Should I cooperate back?"

"Huh..."

Grateful for explanation. Got what I needed...

"Why?"

Ellyra crackles, vanishes. Tension eases; long exhale, fiddle with gifted data. Second Alphabet? Not the only one. Inevitable clash for my goals. Long road.

But not just hurdles. Got knights' video and program. Ellyra just existed; I advanced. Steel resolve—turn back. Then, faint voice tickles ear.

"...!@# shit."

Distant—confusion. Body hearing? Shift mental data back.

"Miss! You're awake."

Svetlana, urgent.

"Sis? What's up?"

"Cyberdemon approaching. Hurry back, miss."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"On it."

Transmit all clone data to body. Cubes form; clone dissolves. Svetlana drops bigger bomb.

"Miss, no contact with Raven One. If none by retreat..."

Raven One: real-world support. Crucial—cut cables on exit to block demon bypass. Guards HQ and retreat path.

"Worst case: we block demons."

Of course. No anger left. Fault mine for trusting corp ops. I eyed the knights' program—prep for battle.