Chapter 32: Pixelle: Compromised

  By Chronos’ request, Pixelle accompanied him to yet another one of Themis’ utterly pointless court hearings regarding Dolos’ increasingly blatant interferences in each Battle.

  Chronos had asked her to dress more formally, maybe even tone down the color of her hair.

  So naturally, she cranked the pink hue up several notches and threw on a long, high-collared yellow coat, glossy and bold. The synthetic, shimmering fabric, and the coat’s black fasteners hinted more at streetwear rather than divine diplomacy, serving her goal – being purposefully unprofessional.

  Inside Themis court – an actual floating cloud platform suspended in the sky – waited the standard arrangement she was already sick of seeing: a cloudy table surrounded by matching chairs. At the head sat Themis, god of justice and eternal arbiter of divine disputes.

  He had taken a human form today. Unfortunately.

  To Pixelle, he looked like a grumpy, middle-aged bureaucrat with a balding head and a permanent frown.

  The hearing couldn’t begin until Dolos – or his smug assistant Cicero – bothered to show up. As usual, they were late.

  Chronos, visibly tense in a formal suit that was a day-and-night shift from his usual punkish getup, broke the silence first.

  “Can we at least start discussing what we talked about last time, Themis? About rewriting the rules?”

  “You know we can’t discuss that without the other party present.” Themis replied without looking up, gesturing calmly toward the two empty chairs across from Pixelle and Chronos.

  Pixelle rolled her eyes, visibly.

  She hated Themis’ attitude so much. Always by the book. Rigid. Predictable. No matter how many times they were late, Dolos and Cicero never faced consequences, because Themis’ sacred laws had no subsection for tardiness, for some reason.

  Suddenly, the Cyberdeck in her head pinged with a notification – text scrolling across her neural HUD.

  ‘Finally.’ She thought. One more second of this dry silence and she’d start thinking about Goren rejecting her date proposal again. And if that happened, she might just get up and see what happens when you jump off the edge of Themis’ floaty realm.

  Before they sent Viktor back to Solvane after their last meeting, she had tuned her Cyberdeck to the Déjà vu System so it would monitor Viktor’s progress in live fashion.

  They couldn’t see him in Solvane directly – Chronos’ divine vision was still clouded – but Pixelle hoped to trace Viktor’s movements indirectly. By monitoring the System’s logs, cross-referencing cooldowns, and tracking which skills he was activating, she could build a rough outline of what he was doing.

  It wasn’t much. But it was better than being totally blind.

  More importantly, she was watching for the source of that strange quest. The one called ‘Outlast’.

  It had no business being there.

  Back before she joined Chronos as an assistant – back when she used the Déjà vu System herself to save her own collapsing world – the System had been a mess.

  It wasn’t a tool. It was just a divine construct. Something her mind couldn’t even fully grasp. It lacked logic or set structure. It was intuitive-only and had no internal consistency.

  You couldn’t even track your progress unless you remembered everything yourself or just felt it out on instinct.

  And that was fine for gods, maybe. Or actual geniuses like Dolos. But not for anyone else.

  Chronos was lucky she’d been a Netrunner in her world – tech savvy. She was good at what she did. Too good.

  And so, one of the first things she’d done after joining him was refactoring the entire back-end structure of the Déjà vu system.

  She took what was essentially a formless magical OS and rewrote it with modular architecture and logic trees. She gave it an interface. Something actual people could use and understand.

  What the Déjà vu System looked like now? That was her.

  And it wasn’t just a cosmetic change either. Her design had massively improved the Champions’ survival and success rates in the Battles.

  Over time, she introduced one new feature after another. Including the Quests function.

  A guided framework that allowed their Champions to level up faster while still remaining under Erebus’ radar.

  Which was exactly why she knew – with absolute, a hundred percent, mega-giga-super confidence – that ‘Outlast’ was not supposed to be there.

  The Quests function wasn’t some AI pulling objectives out of thin air.

  It was deterministic.

  Quests were generated through controlled input parameters – templates and behavioral triggers that Pixelle personally coded into the System’s logic core when she created it. Every new addition since then was versioned and sandboxed during maintenance sessions she was in charge of.

  The was no line of logic that should’ve spawned ‘Outlast’.

  And yet – there it was.

  Which meant…something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  And the notification she received just now only made her anxiety spike.

  ‘Outlast’…it had activated again.

  Viktor was once again on the run – being hunted by the terrifying, fully armored, maxed-out warrior.

  “Viktor’s in trouble…” She whispered to Chronos.

  Chronos turned toward her immediately, all his focus snapping into place. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s that Obsidian Crow again…” Pixelle said, her eyes flicking across System logs. “He’s chasing Viktor again. The System spawned that weird quest again.”

  Chronos rubbed his forehead in thought.

  “Why is it happening…” He muttered.

  “I don’t know.” Pixelle said, growing worried. “I need to run more diagnostics.”

  She hated this – not having the answers.

  “Does he have the safety net on?” Chronos asked.

  Pixelle navigated quickly through the System logs in her neural HUD.

  “Yes.” She said. “Checkpoint is active."

  “Good.” Chronos exhaled, relieved. Then his gaze turned pensive. “This Crow…I wonder if he’s Dolos’ Champion. If so, then we might have another ‘Goren case’ on our hands…”

  Pixelle almost jumped in – instinct ready to defend Goren – but before she could say a word, a familiar voice cut through the cloud realm.

  “Oof, I’m finally here.”

  Cicero.

  He strolled in like he owned the place. “Sorry, Themis. Traffic at the Realm Bridge was nuts. Don’t even – “

  Themis raised a hand, clearly uninterested. “Just sit down.”

  Cicero gave a lazy grin and found his seat.

  Chronos leaned closer to Pixelle, dropping his voice. “Keep monitoring. Keep me posted.”

  Then he shifted to Cicero, eyes sharp as he addressed him. “Where’s your boss? Or is he not going to bless us with his presence this time?”

  Cicero chuckled lightly. “Ah, Master Dolos was feeling slightly ill, you see. He was attacked by intruders in his own realm.”

  Themis raised an eyebrow. “Intruders?”

  Chronos straightened slightly, growing curious.

  “Yes.” Cicero nodded solemnly, though the dramatic pause he added afterward quickly undermined his sincerity. “Hard to say who they were. We’re still searching for them. But…yes. Master Dolos was exhausted. Even so, he told me – and I quote – ‘There’s no way I’m missing Themis’ court hearing over this’. I had to push him back into bed forcefully before he collapsed – “

  “Enough.” Themis cut in, eyes narrowing. He wasn’t amused. But Cicero didn’t seem to care about how he felt.

  Chronos rolled his eyes at the obvious lie.

  Meanwhile, Pixelle didn’t even flinch. She only half-listened – her focus locked on Viktor’s progress.

  Cicero’s gaze finally dropped to her. “Oh, my. Dear Pixelle, I almost missed you. You should really start wearing brighter colors. So you could stand out even more, of course.”

  Pixelle didn’t even look at him as she raised her middle finger in response.

  “Stop it.” Themis intervened.

  “Right, right.” Cicero cleared his throat theatrically. “Well then, I’m listening. Why was Master Dolos summoned to this court this time?”

  Themis gestured toward Chronos. “Chronos, please present your case.”

  Chronos cleared his throat before speaking. “Under the authority of this divine court, I formally request a declaration from Dolos – or his proxy – regarding the traps, red herrings, and any misleading constructs placed throughout Solvane. My Champion is already severely disadvantaged due to the actions of theirs.”

  Cicero gasped – an obvious performance. “What?! Master Dolos would never try to sabotage humanity’s chance to save itself from Erebus’ embrace. That’s slander, Chronos! Retract that at once or we will counter-sue you for this!”

  Themis sighed as a glowing paper appeared in his hand. He read aloud with the most monotonic voice he could muster. “Three thousand years ago. Tepan Kingdom, Earth-874. Erebus himself admitted under oath that Dolos attempted to expedite his descension.”

  “Ohhh,” Cicero said, lightly touching his forehead as if suddenly recalling it. “You’re talking about that time.”

  Themis narrowed his eyes. “Well?”

  “But that’s not against the rules now, is it?” Cicero said with a lopsided grin. “The Battle on that Earth wasn’t scheduled to begin for another thousand years. And, unless I’m misremembering – which I’m not – the Divine Rules clearly state that until the Battle officially begins, Master Dolos – and Master Chronos as well, of course – are free to act as they please on that world.”

  Meanwhile, the System logs informed Pixelle that Viktor died and was about to resurrect via Checkpoint. She said nothing. No way she was giving Cicero the satisfaction.

  Chronos’ jaw tightened. He looked ready to explode Cicero where he stood – but held it in. “He only got away with that because of this dumb technicality. It won’t save him now. That’s why I demand, here and now, in Themis’ presence, that you disclose every intervention Dolos made in Solvane prior to the start of the current Battle.”

  Themis gave a supporting nod, turning to Cicero. “Go on. You may answer.”

  Cicero smiled and shrugged again. “Master Dolos? He didn’t do anything.”

  He spread his hands innocently. “Master Dolos may or may not have visited Solvane in the past – purely recreational, of course. He enjoys the sights of hissing steam and mana crystals more than his evening beach walks…which he enjoys a lot. But as I said, according to the rules, anything he did in Solvane prior to the Battle’s official start is not subject to your review.”

  He cleared his throat dramatically – loud, before anyone could cut in, and spoke again. “And if I’m wrong – may I be struck by lightning this moment.”

  Themis’ brow rose slightly.

  That was a Divine Phrase. Literal and binding. If Cicero was wrong in his understanding of the rules, Divine Lightning would strike him down immediately.

  Nothing happened.

  Cicero remained seated and very much un-fried.

  Chronos turned to Themis. “I told you they’d deny everything. You have to press them for the truth. If you don’t – it’s just Tepan all over again.”

  Themis gave a long, tired sigh. “I cannot, Chronos. The rules are the rules. Until we rewrite them, they bind even me.”

  “And you really should rewrite them!” Cicero chimed in enthusiastically. “There are so many loopholes in the Divine Rules it’s practically divine Swiss cheese. It’s fortunate we’re all such fair, noble individuals who would never abuse them.” He grinned. “Still, revisions are a good idea. Perhaps for the next Battle? Or the one after? I’m sure Master Dolos would be more than happy to lend a hand in redrafting and – “

  “You may leave, Cicero.” Themis cut in. “That would be all for now."

  Meanwhile, Pixelle's Cyberdeck had informed her about Viktor's death.

  Loop number six was over.

  She spoke suddenly, unable to stop herself, grabbing everyone’s attention.

  “The Crow killed him again…”

  “Oh noooo.” Cicero said, dragging the word out in the most mocking tone imaginable.

  Chronos shot to his feet, furious. “Tell me what you did now! There’s clearly more than one operative under your control in Solvane! What loophole are you exploiting this time?!”

  Cicero chuckled, unbothered. “My, my, Chronos. Someone’s growing paranoid. Aren’t you forgetting something rather important?” He leaned back in his cloud chair, smug as ever. “Each side is allowed one – and only one – Champion.”

  Pixelle ignored the exchange, her mind already racing as she sifted through the logs of all six completed runs, trying to piece together a pattern.

  Three of Viktor’s runs so far ended with him dying to an Obsidian Crow. But ‘Outlast’ hadn’t triggered the first time.

  And based on the logs…the first time, it wasn’t even the same Crow.

  So what connected the second and third deaths?

  She scrolled faster, scanning line after line of System activity, until something clicked.

  The Memory Fragments.

  In both loops where ‘Outlast’ activated, the Crow had appeared right after Viktor watched a Memory Fragment.

  She didn’t yet know why – or how – but her instincts were telling her this was the right direction to investigate.

  Pixelle opened her mouth to report her theory to Chronos, but then paused.

  Cicero was still present.

  She clenched her jaw and waited, eyeing him with disgust.

  Cicero, of course, noticed her stare. He raised both hands in mock surrender. “I get it, I get it – I’m leaving. I just got really emotional because of the news about your Champion…”

  He stood and spun on his heel, already vanishing – but not before dropping a parting bomb:

  “These damn Obsidian Crows, huh? They’re too hard to outlast…”

  And then he was gone.

  Pixelle’s eyes widened, realization sinking.

  The Déjà vu System was compromised.