NOVEL NEXT Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Messenger
The clock ticked closer to 10:00 PM.
Closure leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the flickering monitors.
Across from her, Kalt'sit stood with the same unwavering composure she always carried.
The base control center hummed softly, the quiet only broken by the faint sound of data feeds updating in real time.
"Whoever this is," Closure muttered, fingers drumming against the desk,
"they're no joke. Breaking through my firewall? That shouldn't be possible."
Kalt'sit remained silent, watching the screens.
10:00 PM.
Right on cue, the glitch returned.
The system flickered, the usual interface distorting into jagged static before blacking out entirely. Then, in its place, a single image appeared.
A crow.
Its wings spread wide, its dark form pulsing faintly against the white backdrop of the screen.
Then came the voice.
"Good evening, Closure. Kalt'sit."
Smooth. Measured. A tone stripped of emotion, yet deliberate, as if each word had been chosen with precision.
"I appreciate you keeping our appointment."
Closure narrowed her eyes.
"Yeah, well, I don't appreciate you hijacking my system. You better have a damn good reason for this stunt."
"Necessary measures," the voice replied, unbothered.
"Now, if you don't mind, I would like a private word with Kalt'sit."
A glance passed between the two women.
Closure exhaled sharply, pushing back from the console.
"Fine. But don't think I won't be listening."
With that, she stepped out, leaving Kalt'sit alone.
A pause.
Then, the voice returned.
"I will be brief. I am a humble informant, one who believes that our ideals align. And, in the interest of that alignment, I offer you something invaluable—knowledge."
Kalt'sit's expression remained unreadable.
"Rhodes Island does not entertain nameless ghosts. If you have something to say, say it plainly."
A soft chuckle.
"Very well. To prove my worth, let us discuss things that are hidden."
The crow symbol flickered, distorting for a brief moment before sharpening once more.
"Let us speak of the Tower of Babel."
A chill settled over the room.
Kalt'sit's posture remained firm, but there was no mistaking the slight tension in her shoulders.
"Theresa," the voice continued, "the sister of Theresis. She who bore the Black Crown. She who dreamed of a future for Sarkaz, only to be betrayed. Framed. Eliminated."
" The truth you have always avoided , the one behind her death wasn't simply her brother the one who took her life was none other than-"
Kalt'sit's fingers curled slightly at her side.
"Enough."
"Ah," the voice exhaled, almost amused.
"So I have your attention now."
"What do you want?"
"To help you."
"And why would I believe that?"
A pause. Then, the voice spoke again.
"Because in one year's time—Chernobog will burn."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
For the first time, Kalt'sit's expression shifted. Just a flicker, but it was there.
"Explain."
"Soon, a new force will rise and be known as Reunion. Driven by their ideals to liberate the infected from their harsh treatment and widespread discrimination, they will ignite a rebellion against those who have oppressed them."
" They will strike. Ursus will retaliate. The city will become a battlefield. Thousands will die. And in the chaos, your Doctor who currently rest in the Sarcophagus —your greatest asset—will be in the middle of everything."
Silence.
Kalt'sit's mind raced. How? The situation in Ursus was volatile, yes, but… what could push it to the breaking point?
"You underestimate Ursus," the voice continued, as if reading her thoughts.
"The Lust for war has never faded. It was always a matter of time. A certain Duke has already set his pawns in motion. And soon… everything will change."
The weight of the revelation pressed against her, but Kalt'sit refused to falter.
"How do you know this?"
"Because I make it my business to know. And because I have no interest in seeing Rhodes Island caught unprepared and unnecessary victims ."
The voice paused, then let out a quiet sigh.
"But, of course, what you do with this information is entirely up to you. Believe it, discard it—it matters little. The truth will come, regardless."
Another flicker.
"Consider this our first meeting," the voice murmured.
"The next time we speak… it will be when the Doctor awakens."
And then—silence.
The crow vanished, the screens reset, and the PRTS returned to normal, as if nothing had happened at all.
Kalt'sit exhaled slowly.
A few moments later, the door creaked open.
Closure stood there, arms crossed.
"Well?"
Kalt'sit turned to her, voice steady.
"We have a lot to talk about..."
***
Howard exhaled slowly as he set the phone down, the final words of his conversation with Kalt'sit still lingering in his mind.
"That woman is exhausting."
Of course, he knew that better than most.
She was infamous for her unyielding nature—an ageless tactician who never minced her words, her sharp wit cutting through any pretense and a face that never hid her thoughts.
Within the fandom, she was practically legendary, known for having more dialogue than anyone else in the game.
Her presence was commanding, her design was attractive.
Like many others, he had admired her from afar.
He had even gone so far as to invest in her in-game.
But speaking with her? That was something else entirely.
Even though he had anticipated resistance, negotiating with Kalt'sit had been more nerve-racking than he had imagined.
Still, he had done what was necessary.
Whether Rhodes Island would come to see him as an ally remained to be seen. Only time would tell.
For now, he had planted the seed.
Telling them about Chernobog's impending disaster wasn't just an act of goodwill—it was insurance.
A subtle way of marking his presence, ensuring they would remember him when the time came.
But meeting them in person? That wasn't an option. Not yet.
Howard leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm just merely a detective, one with no strong backer."
For now, he was just another piece on the board, restricted in movement, unable to act freely. Until he gained influence—until he became a force capable of shaping events—he would remain a rook, advancing cautiously but never retreating.
At least he had taken the necessary precautions.
Elen had provided him with a soundproof room for his conversation—a rare courtesy in her line of work.
But Howard never took chances.
To ensure complete privacy, he had detached a sliver of his own flesh, molding it into a miniature eye and embedding it discreetly within the walls.
Nothing.
No disturbances. No eavesdroppers.
Good.
Satisfied, he stepped out.
Elen was waiting outside, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe. The dim light of the corridor cast a soft glow over her figure, accentuating the contrast between her oversized zippered pajamas and the keen intelligence in her golden eyes.
Her ever-present sleeping mask rested on her forehead, just above the telltale glow of her halo.
Howard nodded slightly.
"Appreciate the help. Do you require any extra payment for this service?"
Elen yawned, waving a hand lazily.
"Nah. You paid upfront earlier. Consider this a freebie."
A rare generosity. Howard made a mental note of it.
With a final nod, he took his leave.
As he walked through the quiet streets, his thoughts lingered on Elen and her brother, Paolo.
Immense talent. One a hacker with skills that could dismantle security systems like they were child's play, the other a broker with connections that could turn the tide of any negotiation.
It would be a waste not to recruit them.
Something to consider later.
For now, there were more pressing matters.
A taxi pulled up, headlights cutting through the evening mist. As he slid into the backseat, his phone vibrated against his palm.
A message.
Howard glanced at the screen.
Sender: Ch'en.
Unexpected.
The contents were brief—an invitation.
Tomorrow at 12:00 PM.
A location was attached.
Howard smirked slightly, pocketing his phone as the taxi pulled away from the curb.
"Well then… this should be interesting."