Chapter 15: The Gathering Shadow
883 Words
Elian Thorne had only intended to fish for information earlier, but he hadn't anticipated Nathan Grey's mindset shifting so rapidly. Barely a class period after the boy had been shaking like a leaf, he was already plotting his ascension as the protagonist of this new reality.
Whatever floats your boat,Elian thought dryly.
Nathan leaned in conspiratorially. "Hypothetically speaking—if I couldcross over—couldn't I bring back some high-tech gear to sell?"
"Doubt it," Elian replied, flipping his calculus textbook open.
"But they brought back chromed cyber-legs!" Nathan insisted, tapping his phone screen where a news clip played. "Seriously, when I hit the jackpot? First round's on me. Name your place—sky's the limit!"
Knowing the lethality seeping through Umbra’s cracks, Elian chose his next words carefully. "Read the reports. Half the Crossers describe near-death encounters. Focus on staying alive, not cashing in."
Nathan drummed his fingers, silent for three heartbeats. "...So? Golden Truffle or Midnight Grill?"
Elian stared blankly as Nathan daydreamed of neon-lit fortunes. Only he knew the brutal truth: nothing physical crossed back during Return. The mental image of Nathan slamming his detached cyber-arm onto a diner counter shouting "Two deluxe burgers!"was equal parts horrifying and darkly comical.
"What’s the actual patternhere?" a voice cut through the classroom buzz. "Why them and not us?"
Beside Elian, Nathan puffed his chest. "Maybe... only truly exceptional material gets chosen—"
Elian’s eyebrow twitched heavenward.
News of Crossers flooded every screen. Elian had pieced together two ironclad rules:
First: Every confirmed Crosser’s initial Chrono-Count showed 6:00:00, followed by a 48:00:00 Return timer. All had crossed simultaneously. Now, newcomers sported fresh 48-hour counts—Wave Two. Next crossing? Both waves plunged into Umbra together.
Second: Every soul dragged into Umbra was young. 10 to 35. No exceptions.
"Check this!" A girl waved her phone. "Some streamer’s live ‘proving’ he’s Crosser! Showing off his ‘cyber-arm’!"
Phones lit up like fireflies. The stream framed an influencer flexing a metallic limb. Elian frowned. Something felt off—the prosthetic gleamed with suspiciously plastic sheen.
CRACK!
Before two minutes passed, the arm shattered on concrete.
"Fraud!" someone roared. "Cheap Halloween prop!"
Opportunists. Every damn time.
Elian now suspected Nathan belonged to Wave Two—his Count likely ignited afterJacob’s press conference, explaining his slack-jawed shock yesterday. Two possibilities loomed: Crosser slots were fixed (replacing casualties), or this nightmare was expanding exponentially.
As classmates flooded in, a shout erupted: "Crosser downtown! Live on Horizon feed!"
Students swarmed a tablet. Grainy footage showed a young man weaving through rain-slicked streets. Intricate chrome circuitry glowed along his cheekbone—a biomechanical tattoo. His stride revealed polished steel where his ankle should be. Full chromed cyber-legs.The cameraman scrambled closer—
WHOOSH-HISS!
Hydraulics screamed as the Crosser vaulted onto a fifteen-foot rooftop ledge. Vanished.
"Stars above…" a girl breathed. "That was hot."
"Wish we had a Crosser here," another sighed. "Answers. Real ones."
But we do,Elian realized. Grayson Wong. Sterling Syndicate heir. Grade 9, Class 7. They’d crossed together. Grayson had cracked mid-breakdown, hauled off by cyber-wardens. He should’ve Returned—corpse or not.
With seven minutes until calculus, Elian slipped downstairs. Westhaven Prep thrummed like a beehive. Every conversation crackled with "Umbra," "Crossing," "Chrono-Count." Watching the frenzy, Elian felt ice slide through his veins. His old path—ace exams, flee to some ivy-league sanctuary—felt like ash. His future? It pulsed elsewhere.
Outside Grade 9, Class 7, he snagged a spectacled boy. "Grayson Wong. Seen him?"
"Ghosted. Not here."
"Cresthaven Heights?"
"Yep. Penthouse, probably." The boy adjusted his glasses. "Want me to ping him?"
Elian shook his head. Grayson wouldn’t return. Some fractures never healed.
Calculus crawled. Nathan spent the period glued to his phone. When the bell finally shrieked, he shoved his screen under Elian’s nose. "Pixel dropped a guide!"
"Who?"
"Gaming legend. Finds glitches, hidden tiers—eight million subs," Nathan rattled off. "Posted this ‘game guide’ pre-dawn. Kick? No onerecognized the ‘game.’ Now?" He tapped the video titled UMBRA: SURVIVAL PRIORITIES (SPOILERS. "He’s one of us."
Black screen. White text. A calm, almost bored male voice narrated:
"Footage? Nixed. Umbra’s…unique. Prime stays Prime. Umbra’s the shadow.
Fresh intel:
—Hidden Legendary Weapon? Still hunting.
—Class Paths (3 known):
1. Tech Augmentation: Buy at Cyber-Clinics. Credits required. No credit exploit found. Quick cash? Sell organs. (Don’t.)
2. Aegis Tribunal: Genetic boosters = Neo-Humans. NPCs? Ghosted me. Elite faction.
3. Penitentiary-18: Find NPC Lucian Reed. Highest potential path. (How to get in? Figure it out, champ.)
—New paths? Stay tuned."
Elian’s coffee turned to acid in his throat. Umbra was real—bruises crossed back!Yet Pixel dissected it like some open-world RPG. He’d reduced the razor-edged Lucian Reed to a quest NPC!
Who was Pixel in Umbra?Lucian’s infamy clearly bled through even 48 hours in.
Nathan groaned. "Useless! Clinics want credits. Tribunal’s MIA. Penitentiary-18? Might as well ask me to break into Fort Knox!"
The frenzy burned through afternoon classes. Then, a news alert silenced Westhaven’s halls:
CONFIRMED CROSSER FOUND DEAD IN NEW BERLIN. CHROMED CYBER-LEGS SURGICALLY REMOVED. STOLEN.
Cold shadow swallowed the sunlight.
- Writer
