Chapter 17: Office Hours With a War Criminal

Chapter 17: Office Hours With a War Criminal

The office smelled like old blood, scorched parchment, and lemon polish.

Ethan stepped in, took one whiff, and immediately questioned every decision he’d made since breakfast. Whisp curled tighter into his collar and whispered, “Is this where souls go to be filed and forgotten?”

At the center of the room sat Professor Veira Nullmarrow — legendary war criminal, former god-slayer, and current mentor for “unstable spiritual anomalies,” a title the academy gave her after they realized nobody else wanted to handle Ethan.

She wore black robes without ornament. Her eyes were mercury. Her left arm was skeletal and humming with bound curses. The plaque on her desk read:

> “Touch anything and I remove something you like.”

Ethan smiled.

“I’m Ethan. The wildly unfortunate.”

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“Sit,” she said.

He did. The chair groaned.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Mentorship? Casual war stories? Tea?”

She stared.

Whisp squeaked, “Why did you say tea.”

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“You’ve triggered eight red flags in two weeks,” she said, sliding a crystal across her desk. It flickered with system data. “Unauthorized Frame access. Reality bleed. Spirit duel by proxy. Cult acquisition. And, apparently, you’re now revered as a minor deity in the storage basement.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Ethan raised a hand. “Technically, that last one wasn’t my fault. They started it.”

Nullmarrow didn’t blink. “Are you aware your Frame is partially dev-tier?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why?”

He hesitated. “No. But I’ve got theories. They involve vending machines and poor life choices.”

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She leaned forward. The lights dimmed around her automatically, as if even photons knew not to get too close.

“There is something in you, Ethan. Something we’ve seen before — once. During the last breach. Before the towers fell. Before the sky broke.”

“Cool,” Ethan said. “Do I get a medal or a recurring headache?”

She pushed a data slate toward him.

> [Soul Echo: Null Anchor]

> Description: “One who links broken systems. Holds unstable code in place through paradox. Possible source: Developer Fragment.”

Ethan frowned. “Developer? As in, someone who made the Frame?”

She nodded.

“You’re saying I’ve got a piece of a system admin in my soul?”

“No. I’m saying you are one. Or at least... you’re what's left after one tried to hide.”

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Silence hung heavy.

Ethan sat back slowly, fingers twitching.

Whisp whispered, “That explains so much and also nothing.”

Veira stood.

“Come with me.”

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She led him down a hall behind her office — unlit, unmarked. At the end, a locked chamber pulsed with sealed warnings.

> “Frame Access Required.”

> “Admin Presence Detected.”

> “Unauthorized boot key present. Proceed?”

Ethan’s presence alone unlocked the door.

Inside: a library of corrupted artifacts. Glitched charms. Half-melted system scrolls. Weapon shells that hummed with fragmented godspeech.

And, at the center, a mirror.

It didn’t reflect Ethan.

It reflected something behind his eyes — a shifting code pattern, threaded with gold, red, and static.

“Welcome,” Veira said softly. “To the legacy vault. You’re the first student to open it in two centuries.”

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> [SYSTEM SNAPSHOT – NODE BETA-9]

> New Role Tag Detected: Legacy Access – Null Anchor

>

> > You are now visible to systems outside Halcyon Fold.

> > Your Frame cannot be fully masked.

> > You will be hunted, recruited, or worshipped. Possibly all three.

>

> Passive Gained: “Admin Echo – Once per day, stabilize or rewrite a single local code thread.”

> Downside: You no longer go unnoticed. By anything.

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Ethan stepped back from the mirror, face unreadable.

“Okay,” he said at last. “That’s... a lot.”

“Too much?”

“No. Just... confirms the vibe I’ve been cultivating since I arrived: ‘Accidental Messiah With a Backup Plan.’”

Veira cracked the faintest smirk.

“That’s not entirely inaccurate.”