Chapter 11. Registry

The corridor leading to the registration hall was quiet. The voices that echoed through its halls were soft.

Footsteps echoed across stone polished not for beauty, but for function. Light filtered through runic lanterns in rhythmic pulses.

Sera walked ahead of Axel, leading him through one of the narrower arteries of the city.

Here, the buildings weren't impressive towers or rune-lit markets, they were clean, squared structures of dark stone and brass trim. No floating sigils and no curious vendors.

The quiet efficiency of this part of the city made it clear: this was where the Citadel did its thinking.

Axel followed, his cloak pulled tight despite the temperate air. His side still ached, but not as much as the sensation in his spine. Every few steps, he caught himself glancing at walls,the floors, and even the shadows ... expecting the system to surge again.

They stopped before a structure with no name on the door. Only a symbol etched into the arch: a circle split by a downward-pointing triangle.

Sera knocked once and then entered quickly and without waiting.

Inside, the air was dry. There an assistant that was dressed in simple robes with a copper bracer on one wrist, looked up from a slate.

"You're late," the assistant said. She was young, she seemed barely older than Axel, with a voice practiced in neutrality. Her eyes, however, betrayed the same mixture of wariness and curiosity he'd seen in Kael and others.

Sera shrugged. "We're lucky to be here at all. The boy's a special case."

"So I read." The assistant stood and gestured to a second door. "The resonance chamber is ready. Don't touch the obelisk."

Axel followed them into a round room no bigger than a cellar. At its center stood a stone obelisk, about shoulder-height, covered in dormant runes.

Around it, a ring of concentric circles had been carved into the floor, each inscribed with scanning sequences.

"Stand in the center," the assistant instructed.

He stepped into the circle.

The room dimmed.

> Initiating local echo scan.

> Target: Unknown.

> Cross-referencing registry…

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the runes lit up.

And of course, NEX did it's job:

> Signal interference deployed.

> Cloaking sustained.

> Creating trace resonance… simulating data pulse…

Axel tensed. The air around him felt heavy. The obelisk hummed softly. He felt as if something was brushing against his thoughts.

The assistant frowned.

"Scan's taking longer than expected."

Sera crossed her arms. "He was held beyond the ward-line for days. Could be distortion. Or trauma."

"Could be." The assistant tapped a few symbols on her bracer. The obelisk dimmed, then pulsed once.

A panel opened on the far wall. A smooth tablet of stone slid out, inscribed with simple lines of text.

***

Name: Axel

Rank: Unassigned

Job: None

Tag: Null

System Sync: Provisional

Valid until: 7 cycles

***

"Provisional entry granted," the assistant said. "But this is thin. No echo trail, no regional imprint, no Oath signature. The system barely knows you're alive."

"He's alive," Sera replied. "That's more than most that come through with nothing."

"Maybe. Doesn't mean he's safe."

Outside, the light of the Citadel seemed softer somehow. The hum of the city didn't quiet, but it faded into the background. There was a strange comfort to it—organized noise.

Axel walked beside Sera without speaking. The tiled streets curved around low buildings marked with department runes and tier codes.

Every now and then, they passed enforcers or low-level registrars, but none stopped them. Each person seemed to know exactly where they belonged.

"They believed it," Axel said quietly.

"They accepted it," she corrected. "The Citadel rarely believes. It records and monitors."

They passed a group of apprentices sitting on the stone steps of a learning hall, tracing glyphs into practice slates. Nearby, two women argued over the price of dyed fabrics, rune thread tangled in their hands.

A street performer summoned tiny glowing birds from a crystal flute, which scattered when a patrol walked by.

"What happens now?" Axel asked.

"Now, you're officially a variable."

"That doesn't sound comforting."

"It's not. But it's better than being purged."

He didn't answer. His mind was still on the scanner, on the moment when the system paused.

> Anomaly status: latent.

> Echo signature: fabricated.

> Local suspicion: moderate.

He clenched his fist. Even when the system let him pass, it did so with doubt.

By afternoon, they reached a residential quarter set apart by low walls and minimal sigils. The buildings here were functional, built for utility, not for aesthetics.

Axel noticed the small differences: reinforced door frames, privacy runes etched subtly on window shutters, and a noticeable absence of decorative magic.

"This is where you'll stay for now," Sera said, leading him through a narrow gate. "Outsider housing. It's basic, but safe. The Citadel prefers to keep unknowns under quiet observation."

The structure was little more than stone and clay, with thick wooden beams and a weather-treated roof. Inside, there was a single bed, a shelf embedded with a mana-chalk ward, and a cistern for water. A rune-tuned lantern glowed steadily in the corner.

Sera placed a small crystal orb on the table beside the bed. It pulsed faintly.

"This is a local communication device. You'll receive calls from Citadel administration here. Don't ignore them, they'll know."

Axel sat on the bed. It didn't creak. Too solid.

"This is real then," he said.

"It is. You're part of the Citadel registry now."

"But not really," he sighed.

She nodded. "You're registered but not recognized. Yet."

A silence stretched. Then she asked, "You'll be alright on your own tonight?"

He nodded.

At the door, she paused and said to him. "Rest. But be ready. Now that you're in, they'll be watching. Try not to give them reasons."

When she left, Axel didn't move. The room felt like a cell, but a quiet one. Safe but temporary. Familiar and yet foreign.

> Registry synchronization: stable.

> Surveillance level: passive.

> Detection risk: moderate.

He exhaled and lay back, the system had let him pass but it hadn't welcomed him.

And he wouldn't let it forget him either.