Grid: Omnipotence Series

Issue #4: In The Shadows

Nocturnal listened, visor dim. Then he rose.

"I'll find him," he said simply. "Inside or outside the Grid. Doesn't matter."

Cassiel's voice cut sharp: "Not alone."

The old leader's eyes burned. "If you step into that place, girl, you won't come back the same."

Cassiel didn't blink. "Neither will he."

⸻

Chapter 17 — The Invitation

The next attack wasn't subtle.

A patrol returned carrying a body hung with crows. Each bird bore fragments of circuitry etched into their necks, humming faintly. Together they formed a map—coordinates that weren't anywhere in the city.

Cassiel stared at it, her optics flickering with static. "That's not a location. That's an entrance."

Nocturnal clenched his fists. "The Grid."

Pancho's mind-voice hissed: "He's tired of stalking. He wants the hunt on his ground."

Cassiel turned to Nocturnal. "Then we prepare. Weapons, routes, failsafes. If we're going in, we don't leave until he's dead."

Nocturnal's visor flared. "Not just dead. Named."

The crows outside the stronghold cried in unison, echoing through the tram frames. The sound wasn't natural. It was a word stretched through metal.

"Come."

——-

Chapter 18 — Anchors

Cassiel laid out gear across a steel table in the Outer Markets. Not just rifles and charges—anchors.

"Weapons kill bodies," she told the small circle of fighters, "but the Grid isn't a body. It's thought with walls. You step in without anchors, you'll drown in someone else's idea."

She showed them hooks made from scrap alloy tied to memory tags—photos, trinkets, anything real. Each fighter would carry one. If the Grid tried to rewrite them, the anchors would snap them back.

Nocturnal picked up a hook etched with his own insignia. His visor flared briefly. He set it back down. "Won't work on him."

Cassiel's optics narrowed. "Then we make it work on us. Stay grounded, or we're corpses before the first shot."

Pancho scampered across the table, dragging a tiny anchor carved from a bullet casing. "Made my own. Small, but it bites."

The fighters chuckled—thin, nervous laughter. The sound of humans trying to believe.

⸻

Chapter 19 — The Council Breaks

The Rebellion's scattered strongholds argued.

Some wanted to fortify further, to dig in and let Nocturnal draw the hunter away. Others demanded more proof before committing lives to what they called a "ghost war."

One commander sneered at Cassiel: "You served Hypertech. You know their games. Maybe this is one."

Her rifle slammed onto the table before anyone could blink. Cobalt optics burned. "If I were their game, you'd already be dead."

The room stilled. Nocturnal broke the silence with his voice like a knife scraping stone: "Argue if you want. But he's not waiting. The longer we delay, the more of us die. Decide."

They didn't all agree. Some walked away. Those who stayed tightened their grips on their weapons, on their fear, on their belief that following shadows was better than standing still.