“Codewalker,” he muttered under his breath, testing the word. “Like that’s supposed to mean something to me.”
Lena paced near a window, her glowing eyes scanning the empty streets beyond. The sentinel was gone for now, but she didn’t look convinced it would stay that way.
"Thinking out loud isn’t going to save you," Lena said without looking back. "You need to learn how to control what you are. Fast."
Erik shot her a glare. "Control what, exactly? I don’t even know what I am. You keep throwing words at me like ‘Codewalker’ and ‘anomaly’ like it’s supposed to make sense."
Lena stopped pacing and turned to face him. “You’re a fragment,” she said bluntly. “A piece of data the system didn’t know how to delete, so it stuck you somewhere you don’t belong. The fact that you’re still functioning means you’ve got admin-level privileges. That makes you dangerous.”
“Dangerous to what?” Erik asked, his voice rising. “I didn’t ask for this! I just wanted to play the damn game!”
Lena crossed her arms. “You think I don’t know that? You think I asked to be stuck here too?”
Erik blinked. “Wait, you’re—”
“A player,” Lena interrupted. “Or I was. Years ago. I don’t even know how long anymore. Time works differently here.” Her expression softened for just a moment before hardening again. “The point is, this world doesn’t care what you want. If you want to survive, you need to stop thinking like a player and start thinking like a Codewalker.”
Erik leaned back, running a hand through his hair—or whatever simulated strands his new body had. He wanted to argue, to scream, to wake up and find himself back in his dingy apartment. But deep down, he knew there was no waking up. This was his reality now.
"Fine," he said finally. "What’s step one?”
Lena led Erik to a cluttered back room filled with broken furniture, scattered data crystals, and what looked like an ancient, glitching console. She pointed at a shattered lamp lying in the corner.
“Fix it,” she said.
Erik frowned. “That’s it? Another table?”
Lena shot him a look. “You think rebuilding furniture is all you’re capable of? Just do it.”
With a sigh, Erik approached the lamp and reached out his hand. As before, a translucent screen appeared before him:
[OBJECT: LAMP-8210]
[STATUS: BROKEN]
[ACTIONS AVAILABLE: REPAIR // DELETE // MODIFY]
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
He selected REPAIR, and the shattered pieces began floating into the air. But this time, something felt… different. The process was slower, the code resisting him. Sparks flickered around the lamp’s fragments, and Erik’s vision blurred as a wave of static buzzed through his mind.
The repair failed. The lamp shattered further, breaking into smaller pieces that glitched wildly.
“Why didn’t it work?” Erik demanded, stepping back.
“You tell me,” Lena said, arms crossed. “What did you do wrong?”
Erik glared at her. “How the hell should I know? It’s a lamp!”
“It’s not about the lamp,” Lena snapped. “You’re interacting with the code on a fundamental level. It’s not just about what you see—it’s about understanding what’s broken and why. Look closer.”
Erik turned back to the lamp, his frustration bubbling. He reached out again, but this time, he focused harder. Instead of selecting REPAIR immediately, he examined the object more closely.
The screen changed, showing a more detailed breakdown:
[OBJECT DATA: LAMP-8210]
[STATUS: BROKEN]
[ERROR: MISSING RESOURCE STRING: LIGHT_EMITTER_01]
"Missing resource string?" Erik muttered. "What does that mean?"
"It means the code for part of the lamp is gone," Lena said. "You can’t repair something if its pieces don’t exist anymore. You’ll need to recreate the missing data."
"And how do I do that?"
“Modify,” Lena said, pointing to the option on the screen.
Erik hesitated, then selected MODIFY. The interface shifted again, displaying a swirling stream of code that represented the lamp’s data. The lines glowed faintly, though parts of it were jagged and fragmented.
“See that?” Lena said, pointing to a section of the code. “That’s the emitter string. It’s incomplete. You need to fill in the gaps.”
Erik stared at the stream of code, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest. “I told you, I’m not a programmer. I don’t know how to write this stuff.”
“Good news,” Lena said with a wry smirk. “You don’t have to. Just focus on what’s missing, and the system will guide you. Your instincts as a Codewalker will do the rest.”
Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He focused on the broken section of code, and as he did, something strange happened. The symbols seemed to pulse, resonating with his thoughts. It was as if the code was alive, responding to his intent. He didn’t fully understand what he was doing, but his fingers moved instinctively, rearranging the broken lines and filling in the gaps.
When he opened his eyes, the code shimmered and stabilized. A notification appeared:
[ERROR RESOLVED. LAMP-8210 REPAIRED.]
The lamp floated back into place, its pieces reassembling perfectly. A soft light flickered to life, illuminating the room.
Erik exhaled, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. “That… was a lot harder than it looked.”
Lena gave him a small nod of approval. “It’ll get easier. But now you see why this isn’t just some game anymore. You’re working with the building blocks of this world. Every time you use your abilities, you’re rewriting reality.”
Their lesson was interrupted by a low rumble that shook the guildhall. Lena’s expression darkened as she turned toward the window.
“They’ve found us,” she said grimly.
Erik felt his stomach drop. “The sentinel?”
“Worse,” Lena said. “Players.”
Erik blinked. “Wait—players? As in real people?”
Lena nodded. “The devs use them to hunt anomalies. They’re rewarded for tracking down and killing anything that doesn’t belong—including Codewalkers like you.”
Erik’s mind raced. “But I’m not supposed to be here! They’ll know something’s wrong, won’t they?”
“They don’t care,” Lena said. “To them, you’re just a bug to squash. And if they take you out, the devs wipe what’s left of you for good.”
A series of sharp pings echoed from outside, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Erik gripped his sword, his hands trembling.
“What do we do?” he asked.
Lena smirked, pulling a pair of twin daggers from her belt. “We fight. Time to see if you’ve got what it takes, Codewalker.”
Erik swallowed hard as the doors began to splinter under the weight of an attack. He wasn’t ready for this. But ready or not, it was time to face the first of many threats in this twisted new reality.