Chapter 2: The Janitors of Reality

Chapter 2: The Janitors of Reality

Rain slicked the neon-drenched asphalt of Geylang's back alleys, turning the narrow corridors into a maze of distorted, bleeding light. Kaelen Cross ran, not with the calculated grace of a thief, but with the frantic, ragged desperation of prey. Shards of glass from the display case had left a deep gash on his forearm; the warm slick of his own blood was a terrifyingly real counterpoint to the impossible reality unfolding in his vision.

The golden Sanskrit of the Dharma Interface was a permanent fixture now, an overlay on his world. Warnings flashed in his periphery, stark and unhelpful.

[STAMINA: 68%] [WARNING: HOST BIOLOGICAL INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. BLOOD LOSS DETECTED.]

"No kidding," Kael rasped, vaulting a pile of overflowing rubbish bins. The stench of rotting durian and damp concrete filled his lungs. He was in his element here—the forgotten veins of the city, the paths between worlds that only people like him knew. Normally, he could lose anyone in this labyrinth.

But his hunters weren't anyone.

He risked a glance over his shoulder. The alley behind him was empty. No footsteps, no shouts. Just the oppressive, humming silence that preceded them. Then, the air by a corrugated steel wall shimmered. One of the grey-suited Janitors stepped through the solid metal as if it were a curtain of smoke. Its blank face turned, locking onto his position instantly. They weren't tracking him. They were tracking the cosmic disturbance he had become.

Desire. Survival. Pure and simple. He just needed to get to the shipping port, find a container he had prepped for just such an emergency, and vanish.

Obstacle. His pursuers didn't obey the laws of physics. They didn't need doors. They didn't need to run.

He scrambled up a fire escape, his boots slipping on the wet metal. He reached the rooftop, gasping in the humid night air, and launched himself across a five-meter gap to the next building. It was a leap that would have broken the ankles of a normal man. Kael landed in a practiced parkour roll, the impact jarring his wounded arm. He kept moving, a ghost flitting across the rooftops.

But as he landed on the third roof, two more Janitors simply solidified from the rain-swept air in front of him, blocking his path. One held the terrifying eraser-rod. The other’s hands glowed with a faint, shimmering energy.

"Anomaly detected," the one with the rod stated. Its voice was flat, synthesized, like a text-to-speech program reading an error log. "Unauthorized Warlock designation. Initiating reset protocol."

Kael was trapped. Below, the alley. In front, erasure. His mind, the master of angles and escapes, found nothing. The professional's code he lived by—finish the job, no unnecessary harm—seemed like a child's fairy tale now.

The Interface in his vision suddenly pulsed, a new panel of information blooming into existence.

[NEW SKILL AVAILABLE: [SHADOW WEAVE]] [COST: 10 DHARMA POINTS] [DESCRIPTION: MANIPULATE AMBIENT SHADOWS TO CREATE MINOR OBSCURITY. REQUIRES CONCENTRATION.] [PURCHASE? Y/N]

Action. What the hell were Dharma Points? He didn’t know, but he had nothing else. A thought, sharp and desperate as a prayer, screamed YES in his mind.

[SKILL ACQUIRED: [SHADOW WEAVE]] [DHARMA POINTS: 90/100]

He thrust his hand forward, trying to will it, to do something. The shadows around a rooftop air conditioning unit deepened, stretching unnaturally, flowing like ink towards the Janitors. It was clumsy, weak, like trying to throw water with a fork. It did little more than darken their grey suits for a second before fizzling out.

The Janitor with the empty hands was unimpressed. "Resistance is illogical. Cessation is tidy." It raised a hand, and the very air around Kael began to warp, the raindrops freezing in mid-air, the neon lights smearing into long, viscous trails. He felt a terrifying pressure, a sense of his own existence being unraveled at the seams.

This was it. The end of the line. A two-million-dollar payout for oblivion.

Then, a new voice cut through the rain, calm and clear as a temple bell. "That's enough."

Surprise. A woman stood on the edge of the roof, appearing from nowhere, yet she hadn't shimmered into existence like the Janitors. She was just... there. She was tall and poised, her long black hair intricately braided with golden cords that seemed to absorb the city's chaotic light. She wore robes that looked both ancient and impossibly modern, and held a simple staff of dark wood that hummed with a faint, blue energy. Her silver eyes, ancient and piercing, fixed on the Janitors.

"Concordance Warden Elara," the lead Janitor intoned, its head tilting a fraction. "Your jurisdiction does not apply. This is a Class-G containment action."

"The subject is under my protection now," Elara replied, her voice unwavering. "Stand down."

"Negative. The anomaly must be reset." The Janitor lunged forward, not with a physical step, but by seeming to delete the space between them. It thrust its rod towards Kael.

Elara moved. She didn't dodge or parry. She lifted her staff, and the two meters of space directly in front of Kael simply folded. The tip of the eraser-rod, meant for his chest, passed through the fold and emerged on the other side of the rooftop, striking a massive steel shipping container in the port below. There was no explosion. The corner of the forty-foot container simply vanished into nothingness with a sickening, silent lurch.

Turning Point. Kael stared, his mind finally snapping. He was a footnote in a battle between gods and monsters on a Singapore rooftop.

Elara took a step forward, and the rain in a circle around her vaporized into mist. "You are authorized to reset errors. You are not authorized to contest a Warden of the Concordance claiming a Key-bearer. Leave. Now."

The Janitors paused, their blank faces processing this new data. A flicker of... something passed between them. A silent, data-stream of communication. Then, as one, they dissolved, their forms breaking down into shimmering heat haze and vanishing into the night.

The oppressive silence lifted, replaced by the mundane drumming of the rain. Kael finally collapsed against a vent, his legs giving out. He stared at the woman. "Who... what...?"

"Breathe, thief," she said, her silver eyes appraising him. The blue light from her staff faded. "The hard part is just beginning." She walked over, and the world around her seemed to ripple. One moment she was across the roof, the next she was kneeling beside him, her hand glowing with a soft white light over his bleeding arm. The pain vanished, and when he looked, the gash was knitting itself closed.

Result. "Those things... the Janitors..." he stammered. "They're here to 'reset' me?"

"They are enforcers. They maintain the stability of reality by cleaning up... inconsistencies," Elara explained, her tone that of a patient mentor explaining a complex equation. "And right now, you are the biggest inconsistency on the planet."

"Because I stole a tooth?" he asked, a note of hysteria creeping into his voice.

"You didn't just steal a relic," she corrected, her gaze intense. "That tooth was a Dharma Key. A key to one of the great Cosmic Locks that keeps reality from tearing itself apart. By touching it, you didn't just steal it—you bonded with it. It's part of your soul now."

She pointed a delicate finger at his eyes. "That system you see? That's the Key's interface. And you... Kaelen Cross... are its new Warlock. An unauthorized administrator with the power to rewrite the laws of the universe. The Janitors weren't sent by a government. They were sent by reality itself to delete the bug. To erase you."

Kael looked down at his hands, half-expecting to see them fading away. The skin was solid, but underneath, he could almost feel a faint, golden hum, the thrum of the cosmic engine now fused to his being. He had stolen the most valuable object on Earth, only to find out his payment was the price on his own existence. His old life, his plans for freedom, were gone—erased more completely than any Janitor's rod could manage.