System Error: The NPC's Reign of Terror

Chapter 10: The New "Mission"

“I need you to take a look at this.”

My voice was raspy, like sandpaper. I slapped the black chip I’d scavenged from Brute’s corpse onto the metal tray in front of Old Doc with a sharp clink. The clinic’s stench—a mix of disinfectant and rust—made me gag, but I couldn't afford to care right now.

Old Doc lifted his cloudy eyes from a pile of blood-stained gauze and settled on the chip. He had just injected me with a vial of "Purifier" glowing with an eerie blue light; the stuff flowed through my body like ice water, temporarily suppressing the data storm in my head that had nearly torn me apart.

“You almost turned yourself into a pile of corrupted code for this thing?” His voice was thick with mockery, but he still reached out with a meaty hand covered in grease and scars, gingerly picking up the chip.

He took only one look before his expression changed.

It wasn't surprise, nor was it curiosity; it was a grim look, a mixture of loathing and fear. His rough fingers instinctively rubbed the chip’s cold surface, as if he were touching a dormant scorpion.

“Olympus Group’s ‘Cerberus’,” he rasped, the name sounding like it was being squeezed from the depths of his throat. “Military-grade triple encryption. Where'd you get this?”

“From a dead man,” I answered bluntly, meeting his sharp gaze head-on. My body was still weak, and every breath sent a stinging pain through my lungs, but I forced myself to sit up straight, refusing to show any weakness. “I need to know what’s inside.”

Old Doc gave a cold laugh and tossed the chip back into the tray. “You need? Little girl, what you need isn't the truth—it's to find a hole to hide in and pray that Athena’s cleaner drones never find you. This thing? I can’t c***k it.”“You can't c***k it?” My heart sank. He was the most skilled black-market doctor and technician in the Sinking District; if even he was helpless...

“This isn't some piece of junk you can buy on the black market!” he barked. “Genetic locks, temporal locks, and those goddamn quantum entanglement keys! Any brute-force attempt will turn it and the data inside into a pile of ash! What do you think those bastards at Olympus use to rule this city? It's with technology like this—stuff we can never hope to touch!”

Despair, like a cold tide, instantly rose around my ankles. The vision of that pure white room, the man who called me “Nova,” that damned “Project Eden”... is this where the trail goes cold?

No.

I refuse to accept that.

“Then who can?” I leaned forward, hands braced against the cold operating table, looking him straight in the eye. My voice wasn't loud, but every word hit like a nail. “Someone must be able to. Tell me where to find them.”

Old Doc stared hard at me, a flicker of surprise crossing his cloudy eyes before shifting into a complex emotion bordering on pity. He was silent for a long time—so long that I thought he would just throw me out of the clinic. The clinic's only light source, a hanging incandescent bulb, swayed between us, stretching and distorting our shadows.

Finally, he let out a long, weary sigh. “That look in your eyes... I've seen it once before. Just as stubborn, just as... unafraid of death.”

He didn't say more, simply turning to rummage through a grease-stained metal cabinet.

“The ‘Webweavers’.” He squeezed the name out through gritted teeth, his back still turned to me.

“They are a thorn in the heart of that cold machine, Athena. A pack of ghosts living in the data shadows. They hate the Olympus Group—so much so that they’ll tear anything associated with that compass-and-scepter logo, including people, to shreds. Both physically and digitally.”He turned around, holding a grease-stained rag. "Taking this 'Cerberus' to them is like a heretic clutching the holy relic of a rival god and walking into a temple of the most fanatical zealots. They’ll dissect you first, then study what’s in your hand."

"I have no choice," I repeated. The words had become my mantra. In that rainy alleyway, as I watched Brute’s life flicker out before my eyes, something inside me had already hardened. Fear, hesitation... these emotions had become luxuries I could no longer afford.

"I have to know who I am," I added, my gaze fixed on the black chip. "And the answer is in here."

Old Doc pointed toward the operating table behind me with a rough, meaty hand. "Lie back down. Before you go off to get yourself killed, I need to make sure my 'investment' doesn't break down halfway."

I lay down obediently. He pulled a headset with a tangle of wires from a nearby machine and roughly strapped it to my head.

"What’s this for?" I asked warily.

"A diagnostic!" he barked. "You think data corruption just gives you a headache? Every instance of corruption is a violent rewrite of your underlying code! It carves scars into your 'soul'! The next time you try that bullet-twisting stunt, your visual system might go permanently dark, or your memory could be formatted into a total blank!"

His words sent a chill down my spine. A memory wipe... how was that any different from "existence erasure"?

The device hummed to life, and a faint current ran through my scalp. Countless streams of green code immediately scrolled across my field of vision, like a repair unit scanning and patching the trauma within my system.

[System diagnostic in progress...]

[7.2% structural damage detected in core logic zone...]

[13.4% unauthorized write traces detected in memory sectors... attempting isolation...]

I closed my eyes. The feeling of being on the verge of collapse began to recede, replaced by a fragile but steady sense of calm."The 'System' inside you is special." Old Doc stared at the old monitor in front of him, which displayed a cascade of code similar to what was in my vision. "Its self-healing capabilities and error-correction mechanisms... are simply unheard of. It's protecting you, but also... consuming you. Every time you use abilities beyond the norm, it's like borrowing from the devil. It'll generously grant you power, but the interest is a part of yourself."

With the diagnosis complete, I felt much better. I sat up and once again slid the black "Cerberus" chip toward him.

"Now, tell me how to find them."

Old Doc looked at the chip, his fingers unconsciously tapping a rhythm on the metal table beside him. It was a very regular beat, sometimes short, sometimes long, like some kind of code I couldn't decipher.

"There are some old-timers among the 'Weavers' who have done deep research into the Olympus Group's legacy technical architecture," he finally spoke, his voice pressed low. "If what is stored in this chip isn't real-time data, but a... historical archive, they might have a way to find a backdoor or protocol loophole by analyzing the physical etching traces on the chip."

He paused, seeming to weigh something. Finally, he took a broken circuit board from a drawer and shoved it into my hand. Its edges were jagged, and the fracture points shimmered with a faint fluorescence.

"Deep in the Sinks, the abandoned Subway Station 7. It's called 'The Maze' by scavengers now, because the spatial structure and network signals inside have been turned into a total mess by the 'Weavers'," he said in a deep voice. "Find the end of the platform, and you'll see their mark. Show this to the contact; he'll decide whether to kill you or take you to see the people you need to see. This is all I can do for you."

I gripped the cold half of the circuit board tightly; it felt like a heavy promise.

The moment I made up my mind, that cold system voice echoed in my head once again.【Side Mission Triggered: Seek help from the Weavers.】

【Mission Objective: Find the 'Weavers' and convince them to c***k the encrypted chip.】

【Mission Type: Optional.】

【Accept / Decline?】

An optional mission.

This mysterious "glitched system" seems even more eager than I am to uncover the truth. It no longer threatens me with "existence erasure," but instead acts like a coaxing accomplice, guiding me in the right direction.

Why? What exactly does this system want from me?

In any case, our goals at this moment are completely aligned.

"I accept," I said silently to myself.

【Mission Accepted.】

A warm current surged up my spine, as if the system were rewarding me for my choice. The sense of weakness was largely dispelled, replaced by a steady strength. I slid off the operating table and stood up straight.

"Thank you," I said solemnly, looking at Old Doc.

He waved his hand, his face expressionless. "Don't thank me. I'm just a businessman. I've invested in you, so naturally, I expect a return. Just don't die too soon, little girl."

I nodded and carefully tucked the broken circuit board and the "Cerberus" chip into my inner pocket. Then, I pulled up the hood of my "Ghost" coat, concealing my face.

"I won't."

With that, I turned and walked toward the rusty iron door. The barmaid I used to be, the prey being hunted, had already died at the end of Brute's gun. Now, I was a seeker, a ghost willing to step into the abyss to find myself.

I pushed open the door, and the distinctive air of the Undercity—a mixture of engine oil and rot—surged in. Outside, it was still eternal night, and a dull roar drifted over from the distant industrial zone.

My new "mission" had begun.

Ahead lay the unknown perils of the "Labyrinth" and the mysterious hackers who despised everything. But I didn't flinch. Because I knew that passing through this darkness might lead to the answer I had been searching for all along—the answer to who "I" am.I took a deep breath and stepped into the deeper darkness of the Undercity.

Behind me, the clinic's iron door slowly closed, cutting off the only source of light. Just before the door sealed, I faintly heard Old Doc murmur something, his voice so soft it was almost scattered by the wind.

"When you find the 'Weavers,' ask an old bastard named 'Hermes' if he still remembers the color of the snow on Mount Olympus."