Leaning back into his seat, Clip pondered. Life had never held much appeal for him, from what he could remember, he had always been living in a kind of hell. He averted his eyes from the status panel and looked out the car window. The factory's silhouette had long faded into the distance, but the slums were still visible, even from afar. Smog smothered the alleys and roads, thick and oppressive. He could practically feel the sting in his lungs, remembering the distinct pain that came with every breath of that toxic air, breathing deeply had always hurt him even before the toxins entered.

Shaking his head, Clip forced himself to focus on his current situation rather than the past. He looked back at the status description, trying to ground himself in the present.

Fated to Die

"Fortune must truly be frowning upon you, to be hated by a god so deeply as to be cursed with this fate. Your death will be harsh, long, and cruel, a grim certainty etched into the very fabric of your existence. Know this, every step you tread is a step that draws you closer to the grave. The threads of your life have been woven with malice, and with each passing moment, the chances of your end multiply. Your destiny will warp around you at every foot hold you take fortune will always be frowning upon you. Every breath, every decision, every fleeting second, each is now a precarious thread in the tapestry of your doom. You are no longer merely living, you are dying, one excruciating step at a time."

Sighing, Clip closed his eyes, and the status panel vanished.

"I must say, sir, well done on your last mission. Your contribution to the organization was quite remarkable, especially considering how it seemed all calculable possibilities of a good outcome seemed to have vanished," the driver's voice, now tinged with what's seemed to be mechanical admiration, broke the silence.

"I was only doing my mission," Clip replied flatly, but a sense of confusion crept in. He didn't remember submitting a report of the events.

"To have made it from the 135th floor to the 65th… The reports submitted by Council Member Fifteen and P.H.A.N.T.O.M. member Ursula Bearheart speak of your daringness and leave much to the imagination. Your quick thinking to slice off Fifteen's finger and take his card was particularly quic—"

"That's enough. Please, just turn on the news or something," Clip interrupted, realizing that others' reports had painted a vivid picture of his actions, the realization of the council member still being alive did perplex him as he was directly next to the elderly man when he was beheaded. The vision of the grey haired wrinkled face looking at him as Its rolled came to mind.

"Of course, sir."

"The amount of system users that have manifested in humanity has just raised by .00025% in the pass 4 terrain days."

Tuning everything out, Clip sat in silence as the car continued its journey. It wasn't long before they arrived at his destination a large, four-story complex. His room was on the first floor. As he walked inside, he noticed the strange stares he received from others, like the looks he got when he first arrived. He wondered if the cuffs were drawing their attention, giving them the wrong impression about him. The misconception didn't sit well with Clip.

Entering his residence, he was met with a remark from the voices in his head.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

'WOW, this place is boring. Is this where you live, Operator?'

"Yes, this was my temporary place of residence," Clip replied, unfazed by the comment as he stepped inside.

The room was small and compact. A simple mat, terminal and two wall protrusions one that worked as a fridge the other a heater or microwave to be exact, were present Clip took out a synthetic PN paste bar from the fridge, unwrapped it, and ate it. These bars were frozen paste though they were easy to crumble in the mouth it was far more nutritious than the basic paste available to those in the lower levels of the city. He remembered the first time he ate one, it had only been slightly better than whatever else he got his hands on in the trash, it was nearly tasteless but still disgusting. Now, the protein paste was tasteless but was easy to fall apart In small chunks when it entered his mouth it was an efficient form of nutrition.

'Wow… What exactly do you do all day, Operator?' the voice asked again, curiosity and pity evident in its tone.

Ignoring the voice, Clip walked to the terminal and inserted his ID chip. The screen flickered to life.

"You have one new message. Message title: Reassignment. Clip, due to your accomplishment in your last retrieval mission and your manifestation of the system, you will be rescreened for an update to your file."

A bit unnerved by how quickly they had discovered his status as a system user, Clip tried to figure out when they could have appraised him. The only time they could have done so was when he was unconscious. An appraisal ability was a fairly unique power among system users it wasn't common, but it wasn't rare either sometime coming out as a bonus ability to the main ability. Clip could only think of to which branch he'd be reassigned to, was it to be a team or was he going to be in back seat position like an office if so would he be provided education.

'Operator, have you thought of a name yet?' The question snapped Clip out of his worries, reminding him of the voices.

"How about I just call you Boy and Girl, due to yo—'"

'Nope, absolutely not,' the boyish voice interrupted, sounding indignant. 'Apart from the fact that you're reducing me to being called "Boy," you haven't even truly seen us.'

'How can I see something that isn't even visible to me?' Clip replied, skeptical.

'Go back to that place, the place you were at when your eyes were closed. The cold place,' the boy's voice urged.

"That place was just a dream, something that very rarely occurs. If you're asking me to sleep, then unfortunately I'm una—"

'You don't have to be asleep to go back silly. Just close your eyes and recall the feeling of the place,' the voice implored him.

Sighing, Clip closed his eyes and tried to remember the cabin the hardwood floors, the soft rug under his feet, the little heat radiating on his face, the sound of the cold wind clashing against the windows and the smell of smoke. When he opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of the grey, rough rocks of the fireplace and the old-world rifle displayed above it. Perplexed and confused, he looked around, surprise evident on his face.

"Over here, Operator," the black orb beckoned, circling him. "So, what do you think?"

He looked down at himself, noticing the same clothing and the cuffs still on his wrists.

"As I said before, our names are of no serious concern. Stop bothering the Boss, you bug," the white orb, as monotone as ever, collided with the black one.

"If you want to be referred to as 'Girl' every time he addresses you, then suit yourself. But I am more than just a tutorial assistant," the black orb said with disdain in its voice.

"We have no autonomy outside of being advisers and speaking to the Boss," White replied flatly.

"heh show what you know." Black retorted

That word again "adviser". Clip remembered it from a story he'd been told long ago, about a fair and just yet firm king. The king had two advisers who embodied the sun and the moon, the Night and the light and were named as such.

"Oh? Have you thought of something, Operator? It feels like you have," the black orb prodded.

"I have decided upon your names, yes. You wil—"

"Well, you don't have to name "girl" over there. Just naming me is fine," the black orb said, as if being granted a privilege.

"Insect," Girl retorted.

Sighing, Clip spoke plainly. "Nox and Lux. Nox for the Night, and Lux for the Light..."

"Nox and Lux…" Nox murmured, his orb seemed to glow seemingly in reverence.