CHAPTER 44: IRE CLASSIFICATION
Julie sat at the center of the circular platform with her feet crossed, as instructed by Director 004. The Black Watchmen captain stood to the side of him with his arms crossed—his ominous mask obscured what exactly he was thinking at that moment.
Julie gulped down her hesitation and decided to ask, “What do I do next?”
Almost immediately, director 004 tossed her a pill. She clumsily caught it and glanced at it curiously. “What is this?”
“Ingest it.”
I hope it's not cyanide… She took a deep breath and did as she was bid. There was no point in resisting after coming this far.
Almost immediately, she felt the effects. Her vision began to blur and her sense of direction became flimsy. But her mind—it felt sharper than it had ever been. The voice of Director 004 echoed into her ears in a muffled tone, as if she was hearing him from underwater.
“Close your eyes and stay completely still.”
She did as she was told.
Director 004 glanced down at the center of the platform and spoke two word,
“AGI. Activate.”
A series of symbols began to manifest themselves on the stone marble circular platform, surrounding Julie on all sides. A massive spellform layered in even smaller spellforms. Its complexity bogged the mind of most magi scholars. Even now, the Headmaster of the Clocktower Mage Society continues to research its secrets. It was ancient magecraft that traced its roots to the Age of Regression.
Director 004, however, cared for none of that.
All he wanted was the results. And AGI being the only one capable of utilizing this enormous spellform was already good enough for him. Humans dabbling in sorcery beyond their circles never ended well, after all.
A few minutes later, the ancient runic symbols began to dim. The magecraft spell had ended.
Julie during those few minutes felt her mind being invaded. It was extremely nauseating—her vision had turned crimson red as blood poured from them. Her nose wasn’t spared the bleeding either—same with her ears.
She dizzily glanced upward at Director 004 who wasn’t paying attention to her. She couldn’t make out what had happened, but the pain she was currently experiencing couldn’t be good.
“Am I going to die?” Oddly enough, she couldn’t even feel sadness or panic. Even the pain itself had numbed. She suspected that pill might have something to do with it.
“You will be fine,” said the PTF-0 Squad Captain.
Julie doubted it but decided to stay silent.
Seconds later, she noticed a strange menu screen hologram pop up right next to Director 004. He was reading the information being displayed.
“Web of Dominion?..” His frown deepened as he reread what was being shown to him.
Julie couldn't understand why he said that, but it shocked her. She had never seen him this full of doubt before.
The Director glanced over at her and spoke faintly, “My hypothesis was true. You have obtained an Abstract Rune.
“But unless you merge with it, you will die.”
With the drug still in effect, Julie voiced her question fearlessly, “What’s an abstract rune? And why do I need to merge with it?”
“Abstract Runes are powerful entities that exist metaphysically. They represent certain concepts in the world.
“Merging with one will grant you a Soul Weapon. But it is extremely dangerous. Though, in your case, even if you decided not to merge, after a while, the potent anima contained within the rune will consume your existence.
“You either learn to live with it, or perish. Decide now, Intern B34.
“If you choose to not undergo the procedure, I will have Deatheye grant you a painless death.” He glanced over at the Squad Captain who nodded in response.
Julie silently sat on the platform as her facial orifices poured red ichor. What should I do? The decision might seem obvious, but a part of her at that moment wanted to give up. She didn’t know whether it was an effect of the drug she had consumed or if her insomnia from the past week had finally caught up to her.
Regardless, a bigger percentage of her mind wanted to continue living. Woo to democracy, she thought.
“Let’s do it,” she said, as her bloodied lips faintly curved into a smile.
Director 004 nodded in response. “Go help her get up,” he ordered. The squad captain moved toward her and roughly grabbed her shoulder, leaning her against him for support. With her mind still in delirium, Director 004 walked back toward the narrow path toward the elevator—the PTF-0 agent followed suit with Julie in tow.
Before her eyes fully shut from exhaustion, her vision honed into the bottom of the dark-filled chasm beneath the platform they were walking on. A strangely eerie change had occurred—one that was not there when they first entered Site A3.
All the way at the bottom of the chasm, a colossal eye appeared. It was massive—she could almost imagine it being the diameter of the entire building itself. Its iris was shaded in green, but she could see strange symbols moving within it dynamically, as if it was reflecting something.
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This has to be a hallucination…
She decided to ask: “what is that thing down there?”
Director 004 answered her bluntly, “that’s classified.”
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Julie was now in the infirmary. The organization doctors explained that she had suffered from a bit of brain damage from that magecraft that was cast on her. Still, they reassured her she would be fine in a few hours—whatever ‘fine’ meant to them anyway.
She sighed to herself, why did I involve myself with this organization again? She was beginning to regret her decisions.
When she was looking for internship opportunities at her college’s job fair, an agent from the organization had approached her with a deal she couldn’t resist not taking.
For the past couple of months, she had been struggling with finding a job. Turned out, being a history major wasn’t a very secure role to be in. She had worked countless shifts at the local museum, but the pay she was getting was less than desirable. And even worse, she hated the fact that she wasn’t getting anything done with her degree—she was working more as a tour guide for the museum rather than a proper historian or researcher.
So when she got approached by the HPP, she couldn’t contain her excitement. A proper investigative role for a company that was looking into countless historical sites across New York. And she was promised not only a massive salary with benefits, but also the chance to one day lead her own team. It all sounded too good to be true.
And it turned out, her gut feeling was right. After making her sign some sort of magical contract, Julie was bound to the company. At least, that’s what Eve had told her anyway.
Why am I so unlucky? Did I piss off someone in my past life or something?
Regardless, she had to make due with her decisions. And even if she had technically been coerced into this role, the pay was still good and the benefits they had told her about before had also not been complete lies. Yes, she had been separated from her family and placed under close surveillance, but they had promised her that was temporary. After all, the HPP knows that simply threatening their employees into submission was not an effective tactic.
As she slept on the sickbed, staring up at the white ceiling of the disinfected room, her thoughts spun like yarn, thinking about the future. What will happen to me now, she thought. Apparently, the abstract rune she was partially merged with was called Web of Dominion. The doctors didn’t know any of the details—all she knew was that she would need to figure out a way to merge with this rune properly or else its anima will take over her soul—whatever that means.
She spent the next few hours mulling it over. She couldn’t move from her bed and aside from the heart beat monitor and the IV drop attached to her wrist, there was no one to keep her company.
Suddenly, she heard a knock on the hospital room door. A familiar figure stepped inside. It was a petite woman that looked no older than twenty five—she was wearing a white blouse paired with a black mini skirt and stockings that reached her thighs. She was extremely beautiful—her luscious golden blonde hair cascaded down to her waist. She brushed it past her ear as her glistening blue eyes focused on Julie’s figure.
Eve Taylor, her senior colleague at the Cyberhawks DoMA sub-division.
“How do you keep getting yourself in these situations?” She sighed.
Julie chuckled, “I told you—my luck is truly rotten.
“Not even the pity system in gacha games can save me.”
Eve shook her head. She walked toward the sickbed and sat on the seat next to it. “I heard what had happened from the Director. You somehow obtained an Abstract Rune… I don’t know if I should be scared or happy for you.”
“How about both?”
They both giggled. “What happened with IRE A-1549? Did they catch it,” Julie asked.
Eve shook her head. “The Black Watchmen chased after it all across the facility. In the end, two researchers ended up getting infected by its corrupted anima. Unlike you, they were instantly consumed by the madness. They were immediately executed.”
Julie stared up at the ceiling. “Is this my fault?”
Eve sighed. “I wish I could say it isn’t, but I honestly don’t know. We still haven’t figured out what IRE A-1549’s goals are. It seems to be very sporadic, as if its personality changes with each interaction. There’s been talks about raising its codification to Psi-class (Pandaemonium). But the Director’s Council is still arguing about this. I think it will mostly just stay in Alpha.”
Julie remembered the IRE classification sheet she was given. According to it, there were 5 main classifications an IRE could identify as. These were Safe (Sigma), Unstable (Upsilon), Anomalous (Alpha), Warden (Omega), and Pandaemonium (Psi). At first, the organization classified 1549 as U-class (Unstable), since they believed its behavior was static and that they could contain it easily if they simply blocked its access from major ISPs. But this plan ultimately failed.
Between her case and Soren’s, that perspective has changed. If Scribe-of-Worlds simply disrupted their plans of imprisoning it by bypassing all ISP firewalls, they would have kept it as U-class. No, what really set their alarms was the incident that caused Soren’s disappearance as well as its strange interaction of marking her and escaping pursuit from countless PTF-0 squadrons all hunting it down simultaneously. It was only because of these feats that it went from being called IRE U-1549 to IRE A-1549.
“I heard they might try to deploy the assistance of IRE O-568,” Eve added. “HQ hasn’t given the greenlight yet.”
A Warden class? She had heard about these sorts of IREs before—Irregular Runic Entities that, despite being captured by the organization, possessed abilities so invaluable they were repurposed as tools for apprehending other rogue IREs. These entities typically had powers that directed countered other, more dangerous IREs, making them indispensable in countless combat scenarios. However, O-class IREs were primarily used as a defensive measure, ensuring that particularly dangerous entities within the Upsilon and Psi classifications remained securely contained, preventing any potential breaches.
However, IRE O-568 was different from many of them. She had read its case file before. It went by the name, “Anima Disruptor.”
This IRE manifests itself as a small, metallic orb that was void of any imperfections. It was perfectly round—as if it was manufactured with exact precision. However, its history was more than likely ancient. Most of the information about it was classified—all she really knew was that it had an ability that allowed it to create a field that disrupted the flow of anima in a certain area or range.
It did have side effects, however: the users who activate it will have their own anima disrupted as well. It had no way of differentiating foes from enemies. And even worse, they were not able to control the level of disruption it causes—that was up to the IRE’s own whims.
According to the case file, there was once an incident when a PTF agent used IRE O-568 against a group participating in Vagrant Occult Activities. They were apparently conducting a ritual to summon a Chaos God’s spawn. The PTF agent threw IRE O-568 at the ritual’s spellform to disrupt its anima flow. Much to his relief, the ritual was stopped in its tracks—the IRE had done its job.
But it did its job too well. Its field of anima disruption was so strong, the very souls of the people involved in the ritual shook violently, as if an earthquake had struck their very essence itself. Many of them died from the initial impact, while others struggled on the floor with foam overflowing from their mouths until they died slowly and painfully. The only person who survived was the PTF agent who was standing further away from the ritual area, but he too suffered a major blow to his anima.
The fact that this kind of IRE was being deployed to capture IRE A-1549 spoke volumes about its abilities—the organization was pulling out everything they could to get rid of it.
“Regardless of that, I think you should worry more about yourself,” Eve said with her arms crossed. “You have a Soul Alchemy Ritual to do.”