The monitor blinked.
Again, the hallway door opened with no one in fra—no blur, no silhouette, not even a shift in pixel alignnt. The light above the entry flickered, responding to a presence that shouldn’t exist. And yet... sothing was there.
"Are they actually invisible to caras?" I asked again, quieter this ti.
Alexis didn’t answer. She was frozen, eyes locked to the screen. Sienna adjusted Camille’s limp form on the bench, her gaze darting between us.
"That shouldn’t be possible," Alexis muttered finally. "Even skill-based cloaking has a trace. Heat signatures, light refraction. You can’t erase that unless—"
The door on the feed hissed again.
It was getting closer.
"Unless what?" I asked, already scanning the console for overrides or motion history.
Alexis hesitated. "Unless it’s not them doing the cloaking."
My breath caught.
I looked back at Camille.
Still unconscious.
Still shivering.
Still dressed in that half-torn, blood-sared outfit from Observation Hall C.
But I rembered sothing now—sothing faint. One of her old creations back in the city. A fashion show. An outfit that shimred, made people disappear from spotlight angles. It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t tech. It was design.
My stomach dropped.
"Camouflage Weave," I said aloud.
Alexis blinked. "What?"
"That’s one of her skills. And Identity Concealnt. Both are low level—four, five at most—but if soone stole her materials, or if the guards were outfitted using her—"
A sharp, clattering beep interrupted .
A new cara feed ca online.
It showed our hallway.
And at the very edge of the fra... the door to our room started opening.
But still—no figure. No shadow.
But that still didn’t explain it. How could sothing be completely invisible?
Alexis stumbled back. "They’re here."
My fingers went cold.
Sienna stood protectively in front of Camille, who stirred faintly at the rising tension. I backed up to the cabinet near the wall, heart hamring.
"Do we fight?" Alexis asked.
"We wouldn’t win," I said. "Even if we see them."
And then Camille gasped.
She sat upright.
Sharp. Sudden. Like sothing had ripped her out of unconsciousness.
Eyes unfocused. Skin pale. But moving.
She turned her head toward the cabinet. Didn’t speak. Didn’t explain. Just moved. Slow at first, then faster, dragging herself toward it on legs that clearly hadn’t recovered.
"Camille—" Sienna tried to stop her, but I raised a hand.
"Let her go."
The locker cabinet clicked open.
Inside—bolts of fabric.
Black. Grey. Maroon. Threads that shimred even in dull light. Things I didn’t rember seeing earlier. Things that shouldn’t have been there.
Camille reached in.
Her hands moved with a speed that betrayed her condition. Fingers like machinery. No hesitation. No tremble. Fabric spun, folded, threaded through loops without tools or scissors. Just raw movent. Just instinct.
I stepped closer—and that’s when I felt it.
A pulse.
Not in the room.
In the System.
Scan activated before I even realized I was triggering it. No request. No denial screen. No error. No override block from Subject 3829.
Just raw data.
Na: Camille Voss
Job Title: Fashion Designer (A-Rank)
All Skills: TEMPORARY LEVEL 10
All of them. Every single one. Maxed.
My breath caught.
Not just "good."
Perfect.
Fabric glowed faintly in her hands as she stitched, not with needle or thread, but with her skill itself. Material fused, darkened, shimred. Identity Concealnt—ten. Camouflage Weave—ten. Psychological Flair—ten.
Clothing turned to armor.
Aesthetic into deception.
By the ti she finished, her arms trembled. Her head drooped.
But the outfits were done.
She handed them to us one by one. A jacket, a layered shawl, sothing resembling a patchworked uniform. No explanation. No words. Just the offer.
Then she collapsed.
Sienna caught her before she hit the floor and eased her down again.
I held the garnt in my hands. It felt... wrong. Not heavy. Not strange. But charged. Like static. Like sothing unfinished. Or unstable.
And then—
The door creaked.
A shadow passed.
Not on the cara.
In the room.
I turned.
There he was.
A guard—fully armored, visor down. I couldn’t tell what he saw, but he looked straight at .
And paused.
I stepped forward.
The words left without thought.
"Why are you still here? The targets moved to sublevel three. If you want to explain to your superiors why you’re five minutes late to secure the breach, be my guest."
[Skill Activated: Intimidation Through Status (Lv. 8)]
My voice deepened slightly. Not just pitch, but tone. It echoed with sothing old. Sothing authoritative. Sothing certain.
The guard didn’t move.
But I saw it.
A twitch in the hand. A shift in stance.
He hesitated.
He doubted.
Then Camille’s creation did the rest.
[Psychological Flair (Lv. 10)]—still active.
Her design did what my voice couldn’t alone.
His breath caught. His posture straightened. He looked at like I was soone above him.
A superior.
"Y-Yes, sir," he said.
Then he turned.
And ran.
Gone before I even breathed again.
Silence returned.
I looked down at Camille.
Her lips barely moved.
"...told you... fashion... saves lives," she murmured weakly.
I laughed. Quiet. Bitter.
Then I crouched beside her. "Camille... do you have a job title?"
Her eyes didn’t open.
But she nodded.
Barely.
Sienna exhaled. "She’s been experinted on."
Alexis clenched her jaw. "That explains the energy drain. Activating all skills at once, max level? That’s not sothing a normal person survives. Or recovers from quickly."
That made three.
Three people I cared about.
Sienna. Alexis. Now Camille.
All with titles.
All with the sa root.
All touched by the sa system that gave mine. Without consent. Without context. Without care.
My fists clenched around the fabric of the disguise.
"I’m gonna kill them," I said.
"Rey?" Alexis questioned.
I ignored her as we moved forward.
Camille rested on Sienna’s back again, sleeping soundly. We left the bodies in the security room. We took the maps from the console. We took the disguises. And we went down.
To Sublevel Three.
To find Anthony and Evelyn.
To get answers.
To burn this place to the ground if we had to.
But with every step, sothing deeper twisted in .
This was the third ti.
And there was still one more.
One more person I hadn’t seen in a while. One more bond they hadn’t broken.
Yet.
If they took her too...
My thoughts curled dark.
Darker than before.
It wasn’t just anger anymore.
It was pure, unfiltered, rage.
And I knew it was only going to grow.
One more.
Then the dam would break.
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