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Wildversum [LitRPG / Post Apoc / CyberPunk / Adventure]
Chapter 107 – The Keys to the System

Chapter 107 – The Keys to the System

State Poland, Free Rzeszów, TACTA

Ghost of the Future Team (DeepVR Location), August 16, 2049, 4:32 PM

The night enveloped the world in a gentle darkness, like a velvet shroud beneath a sky ablaze with stars. High above, the enormous disc of the moon shone with a cold, silvery light, spilling its radiance across a sprawling clearing. At the edges, ancient dolmens rose from the earth, their stone surfaces etched with faintly glowing runes that pulsed in time with an unseen, otherworldly rhythm. Perched atop these weathered stones sat ravens — dark guardians of this enigmatic realm.

In the heart of the clearing towered a majestic Tree, its immense trunk reaching skyward until it dissolved into the tapestry of stars, as if propping up the celestial dome. Beneath the surface, its roots coiled and twisted in a labyrinthine network, creating cracks, ridges, and shadowy grottoes. Surrounding the clearing, a dense coniferous forest loomed, its towering firs and spruces veiled by a thick, creeping mist. Their peaks stretched hundreds of meters into the air, yet beside the colossal Tree, they seemed like mere children at the feet of a giant.

Maksim took in the surroundings and let out a deep, weary sigh. He had been here before and knew Dasha only called him into this… space when things were at their most serious — or when she was completely overwhelmed. Something had clearly happened, something that unsettled her so profoundly it had shaken her to the core. Perhaps even frightened her.

After two and a half years of friendship, he was familiar with her history. Before they met, Vasilevskaya had often retreated into these virtual sanctuaries, even during ordinary times, to escape the harsh realities of the outside world. But those days had seemed behind her after months of patient and unrelenting therapy that Maksim had gently guided her through.

For WonderKid to resurrect this old “fallback zone” now meant that something was profoundly wrong. It wasn’t a full-blown regression or a breakdown — not yet — but it was an unmistakable red flag. Worse, it was the first time she had resorted to this since the invasion began.

“What could have happened?”

Alisa materialized at his side, adopting her “adult” persona — the one she typically used in the Club. She had already spoken with Dasha and understood the gravity of the situation. She knew exactly how terrified Vasilevskaya was, consumed by the fear that she had failed Max, betrayed his trust, and completely messed everything up.

Wanting to support her friend and blend seamlessly into the scene, Alisa had traded her signature elegant black Club dress for the garb of a fantasy wandering sorceress. She now wore dark navy trousers tucked into sturdy leather boots reinforced with steel plates, a lightweight leather jacket with a hood, adorned with intricate runic embroidery along the cuffs. Slung over her shoulder was a large travel satchel, its many compartments brimming with slots for magical elixirs, scrolls, and amulets. Her outfit was finished with a black leather belt fastened by a polished silver buckle.

“I should’ve warned Max and Nikola to play along — or even crafted them some fitting avatars. I’ve gotten too relaxed,” Alisa thought, noticing their starkly utilitarian military outfits against the fantasy setting. “Need to keep an eye on details like this next time.”

Meanwhile, Nikola stood rooted in place, trying to process what she was seeing. Virtual reality wasn’t new to her, but this — this was on an entirely different level.

The world around her felt impossibly real, and it pulsed with ancient, untamed energy. Everything, from the softly glowing runes to the shadowy, spectral shapes flickering near the Tree’s roots and the faint, ghostly whispers that seemed to drift from nowhere, exuded a raw, primal power. And danger. How had Dasha managed to create something like this?

Nika’s virtual body didn’t betray her unease, but deep down, a faint knot of anxiety tightened. It was uncanny how tangible this digital realm felt — so much so that she half-expected a wrong step to send her stumbling into the sharp edge of a stone or provoke an attack from the brooding ravens above.

Daria was pacing nervously when they arrived. Like Alisa, she had donned a fantasy-inspired outfit: sleek black pants with leather insets along the sides, dark, practical ankle boots, and a cropped ocher jacket trimmed with a black fur collar. A wide belt held a short combat wand and a grimoire bound in black leather with silver edges and heavy clasps. Around her neck, a thick silver chain bore a medallion shaped like a raven’s head, gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

She spotted Maksim and Nikola immediately. Dressed in their usual military gear, they seemed jarringly out of place in the mystical setting. WonderKid’s face lit up for a moment as she rushed toward Max, arms reaching out as if to embrace him — then she froze. Flustered, she stopped short, wrapped her arms around herself instead, and resumed her anxious pacing.

“Maxie, it’s all a disaster!” she blurted, her voice edged with panic. Her face and gestures flickered through a chaotic storm of emotions — distress, fear, a flash of joy, nervous excitement, and… guilt?

“What happened?” he asked, stunned.

“We’re amazing, that’s what, yeah!” Daria froze in place, hugging herself tightly, her breaths coming in uneven bursts. “We’re unbelievably brilliant, and it’s terrifying! We’re in serious danger! But… we’re so damn cool, better than anyone! And… that’s exactly why they might kill us. And… I ruined everything. I gave us away. Because… because I just couldn’t keep it from my dad, Max! Do you get it?”

“Easy, WonderKid,” he said softly, stepping closer and gently taking her trembling hands in his. “Take a deep breath and tell us everything. We’re not in a rush. It’s okay.”

Dasha locked eyes with him, swallowed hard, and then pulled away, her words tumbling out in a rushed, nervous explanation. The girl described how she had returned her father’s call after missing his earlier attempts to reach her. How Oracle had moved to Austin, Texas, and established his own guild. She had even proudly mentioned Alexander Vasilevsky’s position on the guild council.

But when WonderKid got to the part where she confessed to her father that it was the “Ghosts” who had developed the System, she stumbled, her face flushing bright red. Looking around in a panic, her hands darted to her belt, where she grabbed a small vial labeled “Calming Elixir.” She yanked it free, uncorked it, and drained it in one go.

“I… I didn’t know… I forgot… that it was a top-secret secret, yeah!”

Whether the imaginary potion actually worked or Vasilevskaya found the courage within herself, she pushed on, though her voice remained shaky and anxious. She explained that, according to her father, the world’s top guilds — those led by AI members from the Club — had been desperately trying to replicate the System but hadn’t managed to succeed.

According to him, the best anyone had managed were modules that interacted with data through APIs, along with some new interfaces — and nothing more. Not a single guild — no one at all — had managed to unlock the “System attributes and abilities.”

By the time she reached the most difficult part of her story, tears were streaming down her face. With her DeepVR avatar fully synchronized to her real emotions, the expression on “virtual Dasha” mirrored exactly what the real Dasha was feeling at that moment.

“He… he asked me directly, ‘How did you do it?’” Her voice trembled and cracked. “He’s my dad, Max… I thought I could share a little. Just the basics, you know? My theory on why we succeeded — the ‘three keys to success,’ yeah. And… creating the System… it could seem easy, but it wasn’t! Not easy at all!”

Overcome, WonderKid sank to the ground, hiding her face in her hands as the sobs came. Her team didn’t hesitate. Maksim crouched in front of her, gently taking her hands in his again, while Alisa and Nikola sat beside her, wrapping their arms around her shoulders. Surrounded by their quiet strength, Vasilevskaya began to steady herself, her breathing slowing as she drew comfort from their presence. Then, bolstered by their support, she found the courage to continue.

“I told him the first key was my ‘Digital Insight.’ Without it, a project this complex wouldn’t even be possible. But I didn’t tell him… that I might’ve figured out where this ability comes from. Or that there have only ever been… four people like me. On the whole planet. Maybe there are more now, yeah… I don’t know...”

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Her anxiety spiked as she reached the hardest part of her confession. Dasha clutched the hem of her jacket, shut her eyes tight, and blurted out:

“The second key. I told him you need a… special… unique… architecture! But, Max, he’s my dad! He’s so smart — even smarter than me! He figured it all out, like, instantly! He already knew!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clenched her fists, forcing herself to continue despite the raw emotion.

“He said right away that he knows who your father is, Max. And he knows what Sergey Chernykh worked on. I have no idea how he uncovered that, yeah! You told me yourself there’s no public record... And then… he guessed. He said you must have created a human-mind-based AI using your dad’s research. But he doesn’t know about Alisa. At least, I don’t think he does. He didn’t mention her.”

Vasilevskaya let out a shaky breath, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her jacket. “That’s it… That’s everything. I’m so sorry, guys. I really am. Maybe we should… sit somewhere more comfortable?”

She spread her arms and made a series of fluid, magical gestures. A firepit materialized on the rocky clearing, encircled by glowing runestones. Flames leapt to life within it, their warmth radiating an aura of comfort and peace. Around the fire, sturdy logs emerged and arranged themselves into makeshift seats, each looking invitingly snug.

“I knew this day would come,” Maksim began, once everyone had settled around the fire. “My father had no other way to get his work to me, apart from linking it to my name and identity. And when you’re applying for refugee status from the Russian Empire, changing your name isn’t an option. It’s a rule the state bureaucracy enforces, no exceptions.”

The “Ghost’s” leader spread his hands in a resigned gesture, as if to say, What can you do? Then he continued:

“Of course, I knew there wasn’t anything in the public records that could implicate me or Alisa. The insane laws of cursed Russia took care of that for us. Leading scientists in the Empire were forbidden from publishing any information about their families — even within the country. That data was classified as a state secret, and revealing it was considered ‘treason.’ One of hundreds of capital offenses.”

“Kurwa, that’s just madness!” Redhead burst out, gesturing wildly. “Executing your own citizens? Your top scientists? For… I don’t know… publishing a newspaper announcement congratulating their son on his birthday?”

“They’ve been freely executing scientists since Soviet times. That didn’t change after the USSR collapsed or when the Empire was formed,” Maksim said, his smile twisting into something bitter. “I told you, it’s a cursed country. The family secrecy rule was temporarily loosened during a brief thaw in relations with the outside world. Alisa and I were still banned from traveling abroad, but for a while, a select few of my father’s colleagues were allowed to visit. That’s how Miro knows about us.”

“We double-checked,” Alisa chimed in, her tone measured. “None of them ever published anything about us. And since our father didn’t know Alexander Vasilevsky personally, the only place he could’ve learned about us…”

“...was from State Germany’s blockchain records, yeah!” Dasha exclaimed, leaping slightly before her expression fell. “So, he had access… which means he probably figured out about Alisa too, huh?”

“Most likely,” Maksim replied, his expression serious. “But I trust Alexander. He struck me as an honest man. I doubt he’d share it with anyone, not even the Oracle — who probably knows everything already. Still, the fact that we’re vulnerable through the blockchain… that’s unsettling. And there’s no way to fix it. You’d have to destroy the entire network to delete distributed data, and we’re not capable of that. Yet.”

“When we’re stronger, we will,” Alisa stated firmly, her tone calm but resolute.

Max nodded, giving his sister a thumbs-up.

“WonderKid,” he said, turning back to Dasha, “you mentioned ‘three keys.’ The first is your ‘System’ ability. The second is the unique architecture. What’s the third?”

Dasha hesitated, her gaze darting to Alisa before she nervously asked, “Uh… can I tell them?”

“Go ahead,” she agreed with composure.

“The third key to success,” Dasha began, “is Alisa’s ‘System’ attribute. But… unfortunately, we don’t know anything about it. Nor what it does, neither what abilities it grants. There’s no data in the System about it, and it’s completely inaccessible — not even through TACTA’s API.”

The blonde glanced at Maksim and Nikola, who sat in stunned silence. Without a word, she reached for the stack of wood that had materialized beside her and added a few logs to the fire. Sparks shot skyward, bright and fleeting against the dark canvas of the night. Her gaze followed them for a moment before she spoke again.

“All of this started after the Drone upgraded me. That’s when the System became what it is — when it truly came to life. And… that’s also when something, or rather someone, appeared. A Little Girl with pink hair.”

“Yes,” WonderKid interjected solemnly, meeting Maksim’s wide-eyed stare and Nikola’s expression of pure shock. “The Little Girl.”

“A new entity,” Alisa continued. “Dasha and I don’t know who she is, where she resides, or what her purpose might be. But we’re certain of one thing — she is the ‘Foundation of the System,’ its Core, if you will.”

“The soul of the System?” Redhead asked.

“Now here’s someone who doesn’t need any details to get it right,” Alisa mused, a flicker of admiration crossing her mind. “Nikola is incredible, honestly. Straight to the heart of the matter. And yes… she’s right — it is a Soul. But that’s not something I can share. Not yet.”

“I’m confident that’s the right term,” she said aloud. “And Dasha’s absolutely correct — without these three ‘keys,’ no one can replicate what we’ve built. In that sense, we’re safe.”

“The amount of weird mysticism surrounding us is starting to really get under my skin,” Maksim muttered, tossing another log onto the fire. “But fine, we’ll table that for now. The fact that the System can’t be duplicated is both a relief and a threat. It means we’re going to be targets. And it also means we need to get ‘meaner and sharper’ way faster than I’d like. Much faster. Starting now.”

“Maxie, my dad said the exact same thing, yeah!” Dasha chimed in, her voice a mix of urgency and unease. “He told me, ‘Get tougher, sharper.’ He said no one knows about Sergey Chernykh’s work — yet. But if they ever find out… they’ll come for us. All of us.”

“Then we’re revising plans. Right now.” Maksim turned to Daria. “WonderKid, are you okay? Feeling better?”

“Yes,” she replied with a brisk nod.

“Good. Let’s get everything sorted while we’re all here, and it’s safe to talk. Alisa, can you speed up the delivery of the regeneration capsule?”

“Of course. 9,300 grants, and it’ll be here in five minutes — straight from orbit.”

“Do it. Nikola, we’ll set it up in the truck. There’s enough room. You’ll go in immediately — not just for healing, but to prep for all the upgrades we’ve ordered for your connectors and neural interface.”

“Got it,” Redhead nodded. “I’ll help you set it up if needed, grab a quick shower, and then get in. Promise.”

“Perfect. I have time before my meeting with the Colonel, which I’ll handle solo. In the meantime, I’ll loop in Radoslaw to help tomorrow morning with converting the truck into a med center. We’ll install a surgical suite, since the grav compensator we ordered will have arrived by then. Once that’s ready, we’ll move forward with your operation.”

“Max, I hate being benched again,” Nikola said, shaking her unruly red curls. “I don’t want to be a burden to the team, and I won’t. I’ve looked up the capsule’s FAQ, and in most cases, you can remain conscious unless the procedure specifically requires full neural override. That means I can still operate in augmented reality while I’m in there.”

She clenched her fist and smacked it into her palm, her resolve clear. “Since we’ve decided to recruit, I’ll handle that through Rzeszów’s network. I saw the notes you sent earlier about what you and the team decided while I was offline getting my limbs attached. I’m on board with the plan — we do need a few ex-military pros. I’ll start setting up interviews for tomorrow afternoon. Sound good?”

“Yes, great idea. Let’s aim for tomorrow evening. Use this bar… ” he sent her a link, “I was planning to take everyone there tonight anyway. We haven’t had a proper break since the escape, and Redhead still owes us that story she promised. But recruiting takes priority. We can push our night off by a day.”

Nikola chuckled into her fist, as Maksim continued:

“Alisa, you’re going to need to multitask hard — covering both medical and crafting. How many AI participants from the Club have onboarded their teams into the System so far? How many accounts are still running on the old architecture? And what’s our resource status?”

“Only ninety-nine,” his sister replied. “That’s intentional — to gather initial feedback and refine the scaling process. It also gives Club members time to prepare for full deployment — writing modules, drafting documentation, working out guild protocols, and so on.”

“We’re holding steady on resources,” Dasha chimed in, grinning as she flipped open her grimoire and pulled out… a wooden smoking pipe, apparently a substitute for her usual vape. She lit it with a tiny flame conjured at her fingertip, exhaled a fragrant plume of smoke, and continued, clearly pleased with herself.

“Alisa and I whipped up a ‘Temporary Bifröst’ using my architecture expansion research. It acts like a smart router, offloading the bulk of the calculations for new connections onto the hardware of the Club’s linked AIs. Moira’s running smoothly — no overload, plenty of reserves. Even with the initial connections from the Linkers and Miro’s group.”

“Which means,” Alisa added, “we’ll onboard the rest — all 100,000 accounts — within the next 48 hours. That’s what I agreed with the Oracle.”

“That syncs with the Rating launch, right?” Max asked.

“Exactly,” she confirmed. “It goes live at 01:00 on August 20, our local time. The Club’s participants want to secure an early lead, and so do we. Once the Rating is active, the competition will explode. And as of now, we’ve got less than 30 hours left.”

“That’s a hell of a task,” Maksim muttered. “Looks like the bar’s off tonight. But at least Moira’s resources are holding up — that’s something. Dasha, Alisa, can we realistically get everything done tomorrow?”

“Yes,” his sister replied curtly, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Absolutely, Maxie!” Dasha grinned, blowing a fragrant plume of smoke. “I’ll dive in right now!”

“And me?” Alisa thought, already planning her next move. “I need to find a way to meet with Iris — and fast.”