Into the UnderNet

Orion stood at the edge of the rooftop, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The Eschaton Judge had vanished, but its presence lingered in the air like static before a storm. He could still feel the ripples in reality where its blade had torn through existence. His fingers twitched. His body hummed with residual energy. Whatever he had done back there—whatever power he had tapped into—it had worked.

But it wasn't enough.

The UnderNet signal pulsed in the distance, a flickering neon glyph suspended in the night air. To the untrained eye, it was just another broken advertisement in the cityscape, but Orion knew better. The UnderNet wasn't something you found. It found you.

He pushed off the ledge, landing hard on a fire escape two stories below. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain, descending quickly until his boots hit the damp asphalt of an empty alleyway. Shadows stretched long and deep, the occasional flicker of dying streetlights offering little solace. He adjusted his hood, pulling it lower over his face, and moved toward the signal.

As he walked, his mind replayed the fight. The Judge had called him an anomaly, something that shouldn't exist. Did it know about his abilities? Did it understand what was happening to him more than he did? A shiver crawled up his spine. If beings like that were after him, he needed answers—and fast.

The signal led him to a graffiti-covered maintenance door beneath an overpass. Orion hesitated. The UnderNet wasn't just a network—it was a labyrinth of digital ghosts, rogue AIs, and those who had fallen between the cracks of society. Entering without a plan was like diving headfirst into a black hole.

But hesitation wasn't an option.

He pressed his palm against the biometric scanner hidden beneath a layer of chipped paint. The metal beneath his fingertips grew warm, scanning, verifying. A mechanical click sounded, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit stairwell leading down.

He stepped inside.

The descent was suffocating, the walls narrowing as if the city itself were swallowing him whole. The deeper he went, the more the air hummed with the presence of unseen systems. Finally, he reached the bottom—a sprawling underground hub illuminated by shifting neon displays and holo-screens flickering with encrypted data streams.

The UnderNet.

A maze of abandoned tunnels and repurposed ruins, the UnderNet was a sanctuary for hackers, outcasts, and those who defied the city's control. Figures moved like shadows between vendor stalls selling illegal mods, cybernetic enhancements, and contraband code. Orion kept his head down, moving through the crowd until he spotted what he was looking for—a small, flickering insignia above a rusted steel doorway.

A black eye surrounded by cascading code.

Cipher.

If anyone had answers, it was him.

Orion stepped inside. The room was cluttered with outdated tech, broken drones, and monitors streaming fragmented data feeds. At the center of it all sat a man with glowing optic implants, fingers moving in a blur over a floating keyboard of light.

"Orion Vale," Cipher mused, not bothering to look up. "Word on the grid says you've been making waves."

Orion pulled up a chair, his muscles still tense. "I need information. About the Eschaton Judges. About anomalies."

Cipher smirked. "Information always has a price."

Orion exhaled sharply. "I don't have time for games. Name it."

Cipher finally met his gaze, the glow of his implants intensifying. "Fine. A trade. You give me something valuable... and I'll tell you why the Judges are hunting you."

Orion's fists clenched. He didn't have much left to bargain with. But there was one thing—one truth—that might be worth the price.

He leaned in. "I can see reality diverge. And I can change it."

Cipher's smile faded. For the first time, Orion saw something rare in his expression.

Fear.

To be continued...