The neon flicker of the "Open" sign was the only thing keeping the rain-slicked pavement of Neo-Veridia from being a total blackout. I wasn’t here for the atmosphere; I was here for the .

Most people call the Break In a suicide mission. They say the security at Aether-Corp is impenetrable—AI sentries that can smell your heartbeat and laser grids that turn bone to ash. But they haven't seen my terminal.

The drones jerked mid-air. Their red lights flickered, turned a soft blue, and then they formed a perfect, hovering staircase leading me straight to the second-floor balcony. I climbed them like I was walking up to a throne.

There it was. The . A pulsating orb of pure data that controlled every credit, every secret, and every power grid in the city.

I didn't steal it. I didn't smash it. I sat down, opened my laptop, and plugged in.

I tapped the screen. The code pulsed a deep, radioactive green. it whispered in high-density pixels.

The final door was a three-ton slab of reinforced vibranium. It didn't have a keyhole or a keypad—it responded only to the CEO’s DNA. I didn't have his finger, but I had a . I executed the World_Rewrite function. The atoms of the door simply forgot they were solid. I walked through the metal like it was a summer mist.

I reached the Grand Hall. A swarm of seeker-drones descended from the ceiling, their red eyes locking onto my heat signature. Normally, this is where the story ends in a hail of gunfire. I didn't even flinch. I hit the Override command.