The air around the Grogol district didn't feel like air anymore. It felt thin, vibrating with a high-pitched hum that set Arlan's teeth on edge, like a sheet of paper that had been folded too many times and was about to tear. Arlan moved with a cautious, heavy tread, stepping over the rusted-out hulks of cars that were half-sunken into the asphalt. Some of them weren't even on the ground; they just hovered there, static and dead in mid-air—a physical middle finger from the system's glitchy physics.
In front of him, Mall Taman Anggrek loomed like a rotting monument to a dead civilization. The massive LED screen that used to flash ads for overpriced watches was now a waterfall of blood-red code, thousands of lines of data screaming downward in a digital blur that lit up the cracked road below in a sickening, crimson hue.
"System's a goddamn mess here. And these people..." Arlan muttered, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword. "Are they blind? Or do they just not care anymore?" He watched from the shadows as a few low-level players nearby scavenged through the debris, laughing and shouting as if they were on a weekend raid instead of standing in the middle of a dying reality. They were treating this hell like a playground, and it made Arlan's skin crawl.
As soon as he stepped through the main lobby's shattered glass doors, his Sense Perk didn't just tingle—it screamed. The massive atrium was drowned in a thick, grey digital fog. But beneath the silence, there were sounds that shouldn't have been there. Faint, ghostly laughter. Distorted mall music from a decade ago. The echo of thousands of footsteps from people who were probably long gone, trapped in a data loop. This was why people avoided the Glitch Zones; the "echoes" here were enough to snap a weak mind in half.
Right in the center of the atrium, Arlan saw it. A pulse of pure, honest white light. It was a stark, beautiful contrast to the nauseating neon vomit of the system. The glow was coming from a smashed jewelry store display case.
It was a Fragment. A big one. But Arlan wasn't the only vulture circling the kill.
Three men stepped out from behind a cracked concrete pillar. They were wearing matching silver cloaks with a single-eye emblem stitched onto the chest—members of the Seekers, a guild of bottom-feeders who spent their time hunting rare drops while everyone else was busy trying not to die.
"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," sneered their leader, a mountain of a man named Mario. He was lugging a massive axe that looked more like a slab of sharpened scrap metal. Above his head, a Level 27 tag pulsed with a smug, orange glow. He was two levels higher than Arlan, and he knew it. "A solo player trying to snatch our luck right from under us."
Arlan didn't move. He kept his eyes level, his breathing slow. For Arlan, levels were just variables in a broken equation. If you didn't have the mana control to back up the numbers, you were just a bigger target.
"I'm not here for luck. I need that thing," Arlan said, his voice flat and drained of any patience.
"Everyone needs that thing, kid," Mario barked, a greasy grin spreading across his face. "That fragment is worth thousands of Gold on the black market. Hell, maybe it's the key to an Admin backdoor. Now back off before my axe turns you into more digital trash. A Level 25 should know his place."
Arlan didn't flinch. He took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the cold mana flow through the Ancient Magic Circuit at his throat. He could feel the raw power humming, waiting for a reason to explode. "I told you. I need it. Don't make me do this."
"Kill him!" Mario roared.
His two lackeys—an Archer and a Mage—moved instantly. An arrow wrapped in shrieking wind whistled toward Arlan's throat, followed closely by a snarling fireball that lit up the fog.
"Elemental Infusion: Frost!"
Arlan didn't dodge. He swung his sword in a brutal, vertical arc. A jagged wave of ice erupted from the blade, flash-freezing the arrow mid-air and snuffing out the fireball with a hiss of steam. Before the vapor could even clear, Arlan was gone. He used the momentum, his boots skidding across the marble floor as he blurred toward them.
Zzt!
He reappeared behind the Archer, the sound of his Flash Step like a short circuit in the air. He didn't use the edge of his blade. He slammed the heavy pommel of his sword into the man's temple with a sickening thud. The Archer went down like a sack of bricks. Arlan wasn't a murderer—not yet. He was still sane enough to avoid taking a human life unless the system forced his hand.
Mario's face turned a deep, angry purple. He let out a guttural scream and swung his massive axe in a wide, desperate arc. "Die, you little prick!"
BOOM! The marble floor disintegrated into a cloud of dust and shrapnel. Arlan was already in the air, his movement as light as a feather. He realized that in this Glitch Zone, his skill cooldowns were ticking down faster than usual. The distorted time was actually working in his favor.
"Sorry, pal. I've got a promise to keep," Arlan said, his voice cold enough to match the frost on his blade. He pointed the tip of his sword at the floor. "Magic Circle: Frost Nova!"
An explosion of ice spiraled outward, slamming into Mario and the Mage's legs, locking them to the floor in a thick, jagged crust. Mario might have had the higher level, but he had the combat instincts of a brick. He was still trying to yank his axe free when Arlan was already at the jewelry case. He smashed the glass with his elbow and grabbed the Fragment.
The moment his fingers touched it, his brain felt like it was being electrocuted. A flash of a memory hit him: his mother, laughing in a field of sunflowers, holding an old, tattered photograph. It felt so real he could almost smell the pollen.
[Item Obtained: Large Fragment of Memory (Rare)]
[Memory Quality: High (30% Restoration)]
"Only thirty percent..." Arlan hissed through his teeth. It wasn't enough, but it was a hell of a lot better than that dull crystal from before.
Suddenly, the entire mall groaned. A deep, digital roar that sounded like a thousand dying hard drives echoed from the upper floors. Something was crawling down from the ceiling—a massive, twitching nightmare made of store mannequins, tangled electrical cables, and pulsing violet veins of mana.
[Area Boss Detected: Glitch Amalgamation — Level 28]
"Crap." Arlan looked back at Mario and his team, who were still struggling to break free from the ice. If he left now, they were dead meat. The monster would tear them apart before they could even scream. Arlan spat on the floor, cursing his own conscience. He couldn't just let them die for being greedy idiots.
He unsheathed his sword again, this time letting the fire infusion roar to life. "You two! Break the ice and get to the exit! I'll hold this thing off!"
Mario stared at Arlan, his face pale and shaking. His tough-guy act was gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated terror as the Level 28 monstrosity dropped toward them. "Are you insane? That's a Level 28!"
"I've killed worse," Arlan snapped without looking back. His eyes were locked on the Amalgamation as it let out a screech that shattered the remaining glass in the atrium. He didn't care about the level. He had a fragment in his pocket, and he was going home.