Orphaned Seed
Copyright© 2026 by Fantasylover11
Chapter 10: Underquad Proxy
The abandoned substation squatted at the end of the dirt road.
Chain-link and broken concrete, a tangle of rusted fencing and warning signs bleached by weather. The trees leaned in close, as if they wanted to keep it hidden.
Noah stood with the other candidates in a loose line while a Meridian official in a plain jacket read rules off a clipboard.
“You will not display impossible performance,” the official said. “You will not improvise techniques outside the approved set. You will not run alone.” His eyes flicked over the group. “You will finish plausible, or you will not finish at all.”
Noah’s skin prickled.
Finish plausible wasn’t a style note.
It was the difference between bad footage and a white room with clean cameras, between being a freshman with a weird sprint time and being an anomaly they could justify taking apart.
Masking pressed around him like a tight collar.
MASKING: ACTIVE FOCUS: DRAINING
He could feel the Interface waiting behind his eyes, quiet and hungry for decisions.
He’d leveled once since the mill test, and he’d survived evaluation week. He’d learned enough to understand the real temptation wasn’t power.
It was speed.
If he could just spend points at the right time. If he could just fix the weakness that showed.
The Integration window had made that fantasy costly.
And this room—this line of candidates and watchers—made it dangerous.
Jules stood two spots down from him, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. He met Noah’s gaze briefly and gave a small, grim nod.
Anchor.
Noah returned the nod and fixed his gaze on the official’s collar seam.
“Any questions?” the official asked.
Silence.
The official’s mouth twitched with something like satisfaction.
“Good,” he said. “Then you go when called. Follow the markers. Retrieve the objective. Exit when the timer tells you to.”
His eyes landed on Noah for a fraction longer than on the others.
“And Mercer,” he added, voice neutral, “do not attempt to be impressive.”
Noah felt heat rise under his skin.
He kept his voice even. “I won’t.”
The official turned away.
Mara stood off to the side near a parked van, arms folded. She didn’t give Noah any sign beyond the steady weight of her attention.
Noah took one slow breath and let it settle into the count.
Clean technique.
Stay plausible.
Don’t get creative.
They called the first name.
Then another.
Then, “Mercer. Ortega.”
Noah’s stomach tightened.
He stepped forward.
Jules fell into place beside him without a word.
The entrance was a concrete stairwell that dropped into the earth like it had been built to feed something.
Cold air breathed up from below, damp and metallic.
Noah descended with Jules, their footsteps muted by dust.
At the bottom, a tunnel opened into a service corridor lined with old conduit and thick, peeling paint. Someone had painted symbols along the walls in chalky white.
The marks weren’t decorative.
They had the same tight geometry as the token Mara had shown him.
Noah’s head throbbed with recognition that didn’t feel earned.
Not memory.
Something older, like a dream he’d had too many times.
The overlay flickered, almost shy.
ENVIRONMENT: SHIELDED
QUEST: ENTRANCE EXAM OBJECTIVE: COMPLETE THE RUN TIMER: 12:00
Jules glanced at the wall. “You getting the same weird pressure?” he asked quietly.
Noah nodded. “Yeah.”
Jules leaned closer. “If you start to drift, tell me. I’ll pull you back.”
Noah’s throat tightened.
“Same,” he said.
They moved.
The first stretch was simple: a straight corridor with a few branching doors sealed shut. Symbols on the wall guided them left, then right. The air changed with each turn—cooler, heavier, like the tunnels were layers of a place that wanted to stay buried.
Noah kept Masking on out of habit.
The Focus drain bit.
He let it.
Better tired than loud.
Halfway through, the corridor narrowed and a gate of thin metal slats blocked their path. The chalk symbols on the wall around it were denser, overlapping.
Noah felt the pressure behind his eardrums spike.
FOCUS: 72/94
Jules frowned. “It’s keyed,” he murmured.
Noah studied the symbols and felt the strange, unwanted familiarity again.
He didn’t reach for it.
He reached for what he’d actually earned.
PATTERN SIGHT (R1): ACTIVE
The lines resolved. Not meaning, exactly. Function. Flow.
The gate wasn’t locked by a physical mechanism.
It was waiting for a pattern to be completed.
Noah’s vision pulsed at the edges.
“I can do it,” Jules said, already pulling a piece of chalk from his pocket like he’d expected this.
Noah hesitated.
He could solve it. Take the chalk and draw the missing line.
And then, when someone reviewed the footage, they’d ask why he moved like he’d been here before.
He swallowed pride and stepped back half a pace.
“Do it,” he said.
Jules’ eyes flicked to him, surprise and something like respect. Then Jules bent close to the wall and drew a clean line that connected two marks.
The gate clicked.
Noah exhaled.
They passed through.
“You sure you’re okay?” Jules asked, low.
Noah nodded once. “Just don’t want to be the weird one.”
Jules snorted quietly. “Buddy, we’re all the weird one.”
Noah almost smiled.
The corridor ahead opened into a wider chamber where the floor was marked with concentric rings of chalk. The air felt thin, waiting.
In the center, a box sat on a pedestal.
Objective.
Noah took one step into the ring.
The symbols flared.
Not light—pressure.
Noah’s balance wavered.
The overlay flashed.
MENTAL SHIELD (R1): RECOMMENDED
He didn’t argue.
He focused.
The sensation of the room pushing into his thoughts dulled, as if someone had stuffed cotton between him and the pressure.
He kept walking.
Jules followed, slower.
“You feel that?” Jules asked.
“Yeah,” Noah said. “Stay behind me.”
It wasn’t heroism.
It was triage.
Noah reached the pedestal and opened the box.
Inside was a small metal tag etched with the same geometry.
He grabbed it and felt it buzz against his skin.
The timer in his vision ticked down.
03:44
“Back,” Noah said.
They moved.
The tunnel didn’t change.
Their bodies did.
Every step out felt heavier, as if the place was charging a fee for leaving. Noah felt sweat gather along his spine. Masking chewed through Focus.
He kept his breath under control anyway.
At the last gate, Jules’s foot caught on a raised strip of metal and he stumbled.
Noah’s hand shot out, caught his elbow.
For a brief second, the familiar impulse rose—push, boost, make it clean.
Noah didn’t.
He steadied Jules the normal way.
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