A soft glitching sound echoed in Marcus' mind like static teasing the edge of a corrupted file.
“TacMa wasn’t made to help you, Marcus,” Anomaly said coldly. “It was made to kill you.”
Marcus stiffened.
“Kill me?”
“Yep. You weren’t chosen because you were special. You were selected because you weren’t. Just another disposable human. A non-awakened rat in the maze. An alien to the system implanted here on Earth.”
Fang snorted.
“Think of it like killing sick livestock. TacMa hands you some quests, buffs your stats a little, and makes sure you’re juicy enough, only to be slaughtered in the process.”
“s*******r because I'm just a human?” Marcus asked, his voice dry.
“Yes, not even good for sport,” Anomaly answered flatly. “TacMa runs a performance report. Those who show 'promis
