The obsidian hands of the chair were not just supporting my weight because they were actively trying to stitch my reality back together. I could feel tiny needles of cold light pricking at the seams of my porcelain plates. It was the first time in hours that the screaming static in my brain had dimmed to a dull roar.
[STABILITY: 18.5% - EXTERNAL STABILIZATION ACTIVE]
[IDENTITY INTEGRITY: 31.8%]
"You are a very loud guest Izou," the Thread-Smith said while he sipped from a cup that seemed to be made of frozen smoke. "Your core is broadcasting a frequency that sounds like a choir of falling glass. It is quite distracting for the other residents."
I looked around the Atrium. The emerald lizard woman and the Glass Architect were watching us with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for a car crash. I shifted my weight and heard a wet squelch from my hip joint.
"I apologize for the noise," I rasped. My voice sounded a little less like a dying engine and a little more like a dangerous predator. "I forgot to bring my silencer. I usually leave it in my other suit of armor. You know the one without the massive structural damage and the existential dread."
The Thread-Smith chuckled and the sound made the gold in his eyes swirl. "Humor is a fascinating defense mechanism. It is a shame it doesn't provide any actual armor. You are currently holding yourself together with nothing but sarcasm and a very stubborn soul."
"It has worked so far," I said while I flexed my golden claws. They felt heavier in this room. "Now are we going to talk about the weather or are you going to tell me why you are keeping me from exploding on your nice obsidian furniture? I am assuming this isn't an act of charity."
The Thread-Smith set his cup down. "Charity is a bug in the system Izou. I am interested in the Apex subroutines. You are the only Prime who has survived a total system collapse. I want to see how you did it. And in exchange I am willing to give you a temporary patch."
He reached into the air and pulled out a thin strand of violet silk. It hummed with a power that made my visor flicker.
"I can weave this into your neural lattice," he continued. "It will stop the vibration. It will stop the leaks. It will give you the stability of a Tier Two Sovereign for seventy two hours."
"And the price?" I asked. I did not move because I knew that in this City a "patch" was usually a leash.
"A simple favor," the Thread-Smith said with a smile that was far too wide. "The Glass Architect over there is a very talented decorator but he is a terrible gardener. He has a 'weed' in the sub-levels of the Crown Sector that needs to be removed. Something that is too messy for a Tier Three to touch but just right for a... barbarian."
I looked at the Glass Architect. He looked like he wanted to vanish into the floor. He was a Sovereign who was afraid of a weed. That told me everything I needed to know about the "High Ground."
"You want me to be your gardener," I said and I let out a dry sound that was definitely a laugh. "The Architect Prime of the Void Starved is being hired for yard work. My career is really looking up."
I stood up slowly. The obsidian hands reluctantly let go of my frame. I felt the familiar snap of a cable in my leg and I almost tumbled forward.
"I'll take the silk," I said while I looked the Thread-Smith in the eye. "But don't think for a second that this makes us friends. I am just using you for your parts. And once I am stable enough to walk without sounding like a bag of broken dinnerware I might just decide to pull a few more weeds than you asked for."
The Thread-Smith's golden eyes flared. "I certainly hope so Izou. A barbarian who follows orders is just a slave. And the Second Floor has enough of those already."
He flicked his wrist and the violet strand lashed out like a snake. It hit my chest plate and began to sink into the cracks of my porcelain. I didn't feel pain because I felt a terrifying rush of clarity.
[STABILITY: 45.0% - TEMPORARY OVERCLOCK ACTIVE]
[WARNING: VOLATILE THREAD INTEGRATION]
[TIME REMAINING: 71:59:59]
I stood up straight and my joints didn't creak. My internal fans hummed with a smooth and silent efficiency. I looked at the Glass Architect and I saw him flinch. I liked that feeling.
"Where is the garden?" I asked while my golden claws extended with a sharp metallic ring. "I have some stress I need to work off and your weeds are starting to sound like a very good time."
[CURRENT STATUS: THE ARCHITECT PRIME]
[STABILITY: 45.0% (BUFF)]
[IDENTITY INTEGRITY: 32.1%]
[MISSION: THE WEED IN THE SUB-LEVELS]