My Rogue System

LYRA'S P.O.V.

Mud everywhere, thick and sludgy squelching between my toes and slapping onto my legs, so I'm half-stuck in it every time I take a step. It's not just the normal mud we see everywhere. Here in the Outer Waste, mud comes with friends-tiny bits of sharp stones that jab you in all the right places. And we're supposed to be grateful for it, according to Kael. He tells us every day, like some kind of warped mantra: "Labor is life. Debt is salvation."

He stands over us, smirking that sick smile like he's a saint. A savior. Oh, yes, Kael-the noble "overseer" of the Broken Lands, author of other people's suffering. He watches us with those squinty, lifeless eyes as if he's doing us all a favor, forcing us to "redeem ourselves." And he saves his nastiest looks for me, Lyra the "ungrateful."

Yes, that's what he calls me. I don't know why I am to be grateful to a heartless man like Kael; here, they force us to do anything you can call "difficult".

"Why so glum, Lyra?" he calls, grinning as I yank a rock from the mud. His voice is a slick drawl that somehow makes everything sound cheap. He loves an audience, so everyone's watching, heads lowered but eyes peeking out, knowing that I'll get it worse if I look back.

He leans in, voice low, mocking, like he's sharing a little secret just between us. "Still thinking about your precious family? Ah, how lucky you are. They found such a generous way to settle their debt. If it weren't for me, where would you be? Hmm?"

Oh, yes. I'm positively blessed.

It wasn't always like this. I wasn't always mud-stained and scraped raw, toiling under Kael's twisted ideas of mercy. Just few weeks, I had a home. I had... well, I guess I thought I had a family. A mother and father who maybe loved me in their messed-up way.

Turns out, though, I was wrong. Turns out I was just a bargain they were willing to make.

I remember that day, the day I learned the whole awful truth. Every painful detail.

My "mother" called me in from the porch, voice pinched and nervous. I walked in, watching her pace around like a mouse caught between two traps. She wouldn't look at me directly. That should've been my first clue that something was off. When she finally spoke, it was in this tiny, broken voice that was almost as irritating as Kael's smirk.

"Lyra... we, um... We have some... news." She cleared her throat, eyes darting everywhere but at me. "You're not... not our blood. You're adopted."

I felt my mind kind of freeze like my body didn't want to let the words sink in.

"What?" I said, blinking like an idiot.

"You're... we took you in," she repeated, voice high and reedy like she was trying to convince herself it was somehow noble. "We never wished for any of this to happen. And our love for you has been top-notch, hasn't it?"

"Has it?" I snapped back, anger rising in me. Seeing Kael, the overseer of a dangerous syndicate waiting outside with his men, I prayed silently that this was not what I was thinking.

Then she said it. The sentence that would come back to me in all my worst moments.

"Kael offered to... help us, Lyra. He's willing to take you in exchange for our debt. He's a fair man. He could've demanded much more..."

I choked on words. I tried to open my mouth but only gasps of disbelief escaped. It felt like my world stopped. My heart was pounding like it was trying to beat itself out of my chest. I had a lot of names for Kael, but "fair" wasn't one of them. Kael I can say I haven't seen him in real life, but who dares not know who he was. The overseer of a dangerous syndicate in town and a ruthless loan shark. Rumor has it that he does more than enslaving his debtor's children. I heard he has the backing of big men in disguise.

My father, or better still the one I believed was my father, cleared his throat, stiff and stone-faced. "It's better this way," he said. Like he was doing me a favor. "Debt doesn't go away, Lyra. Someone has to pay it, and... well, you're the best option. Since you're not ours, after all..."

The best option. I wasn't a daughter, not a beloved child, but a convenient pawn in a dirty deal. It was a brutal, stinging truth that left a taste like ash in my mouth.

"Hey!" Kael snaps, slapping his palm against a nearby rock. I blink from my thoughts as Kael narrowed his beardy eyes at me. "Are you sleeping, girl?" he sneers, with a disgusting curl to his lip. "Daydreaming won't pay your debt. Get moving, or you'll earn an extra stripe across that sorry back of yours."

I lower my eyes, trying hard not to reply, while I rained curses on him inwardly. Just keep quiet, I tell myself. There's no use in talking back to Kael-not if I want to keep my skin intact.

I grab another rock, mud clinging to my fingers, and fling it into the pile Kael has us building. For what? I have no idea. Kael makes us dig holes, then fill them, then dig them again. The purpose doesn't matter. It's not about work; it's about breaking us down, stripping us to the bone.

After a while, you start feeling like a creature, not a person. A thing with hands and feet but no self-left inside. That's what Kael's so good at, what he's always after-turning us into hollow, empty shells. Keeps him in power, I guess, knowing that we've got nothing left to fight with. And maybe that's what he's after with me, too. The final surrender. But I'm not giving him that. Not yet.

That night, I sit alone, slumped against the cold, stone wall of the slave quarters. The other slaves keep their distance; I'm new, and they know better than to get close. Kael has his eyes on me-his new "investment," fresh and unbroken. But I see them watching me in their quiet way, sympathy written all over their faces.

Beside me, Rhea, an older woman with sharp, lined features, gives me a look. She has scars crisscrossing her hands, which surely would be Mark from Kael's "lessons." She stares, and then snorts, as if my face is some kind of joke.

"So, you're the fresh meat, huh?" she said.

I raise my eyebrow trying to force a smile. "That's me. Fresh as the day they abandoned me."

"Family troubles, I take it?" She chuckled

I didn't answer her, but my bitter laugh says it all. Rhea nods, and smirked with a kind of look that made me hate her just a little. "You'll get over it," she said. "Or you'll learn to hate 'em for it. Either way, you'll survive."

Survive. It's a word that tastes like dust in my mouth. There's no point surviving if this is all there is, but I don't say that. I just shrug and lean my head back against the wall, letting the silence fill the space between us.

"You hate him?" she asks, watching me with her cold, sharp eyes.

I know she means Kael. There's no use lying. "More than anything," I say, "More than that I hate the dirt under my fingernails."

She nods, a bitter smile creeping over her lips. "Good. It'll keep you going, that hate."

But I don't want hate. I don't want to live in this cramped, miserable feeling that eats at my insides. What I wanted was to feel something close to belonging. It was stupid, maybe, a fantasy, but I'd thought, once, that I'd had it.

But that fantasy shattered the day my parents handed me over, the day they told me I was nothing to them but a way out.

In the middle of the night, I lie awake, staring up at the cracked ceiling, my fingers tracing the raw blisters and scars on my hands. The scars I got from beatings from Kael's men when I was refusing to be brought here. Memories I didn't invite flooded back. The warmness of our home, especially my bed, the way I had imagined my mother loved me even in her quiet, fragile way. I thought I had a family.

I close my eyes, letting the anger and betrayal simmer under my skin. It's a dark heavy feeling, I never wanted, but it's there. It's all I have now. I tell myself I'll use it. I'll keep it close, let it fuel me, let it keep me from falling into Kael's twisted game.

Because one day, I'm going to break free from this. I don't know how, don't know when, but it's a promise I make to myself.

I don't care how long it takes. I don't care what it costs.

When I'm free, I'll find my so-called family. And when I do, I'll remind them exactly what it feels like to be cast aside, used up, and discarded like a worthless thing.

"Oh dear little brain, why haven't you thought of this since you came around." I slapped my head as a beautiful thought flashed into my brain.

*Author's Note*

Welcome my lovely readers.

How are you all doing?

Like the first chapter?

Then you are about to like it even more when you keep reading.

Lyra is special and you're about to find that out.

LYRA'S P.O.V.

Mud, I'll say, has become my signature scent. I'd laugh if I had the energy. And the courage. Or maybe Kael wasn't pacing around like some sadistic bird of prey.

But I have a plan. A cunning, thrilling, barely cobbled-together escape plan. Why not? It's been three weeks, and if I don't try something soon, I might lie down in the mud and let Kael stomp me into it. Besides, if I must endure one more of his smug "debt-is-salvation" speeches, I'll willingly hurl myself into the Outer Waste.

The plan is simple. Bold, daring, practically foolproof (I tell myself). All I have to do is slip past the guards, dodge the hounds, scale a twelve-foot wall, and sneak into the forest before anyone notices. See? Easy. Practically a walk in the park. Or, you know, a walk through the festering, grimy hell cape surrounding this prison.

But I'm not giving up before I even start. Not when freedom's so close I can taste it-like a phantom hint of clean air and something that doesn't smell like sweat and regret.

That night, when others are asleep, snoring in sad little heaps against the walls. The moonlight is out, just enough to illuminate my prison: rows of hollow-eyed, hunched-over souls who've long since lost their fight. And if I have anything to say about it, I won't become one of them.

First step: act casual. It was a pleasant midnight stroll to the water bucket by the gate. Nothing suspicious. It's just a girl hydrating. Even though Kael's moronic guards are lounging around, barely awake, with half-closed eyes, they're still a threat. The guard by the gate raises his head, glancing over at me with his blank, soul-dead stare. I offer him a little nod, real friendly-like. The kind of nod that says, *Look at me, model prisoner.* He grunts, unimpressed, and goes back to doing absolutely nothing.

I waited for him to look away, and then I slipped into the dark along the fence. My heart was beating fast now like it was trying to break free from my chest. I can feel sweat trickling down my back; my nerves are buzzing with the realization that I'm doing it.

*I'm doing it.*

I sneaked towards the gate, ignoring the squelch of mud trying to hold me down like Kael sent them to hold whoever was trying to break free.

Then I heard a voice.

The unmistakable bark of Kael's voice.

*Perfect,* I think, because what's an escape attempt without the horror of some oversized, muscle-bound beasts with teeth the size of my fingers?

Kael's voice sounds closer now. I ran left, just enough to keep me hidden. But then a bright light blinds me, and I freeze. It's one of the guards, and he's got that look-the one that says I've been caught. He grinned like he had been waiting all night to ruin someone's life.

"Where do you think you're going, Lyra?" he sneers.

"Oh, you know... I just thought I should go for a nice evening jog. Cardio and all." I lied

Before I could blink, he grabbed my arm, dragging me back into the camp. I struggle, thrash, even bite, but he's built like a wall, and my efforts only make him laugh. Soon, he hauls me into the open area where Kael sat waiting, holding a torch and casting shadows over his twisted face.

"Ah, Lyra," Kael purrs excitedly. "Trying to cut and run, are we?"

I bite back a snarky reply, which only makes his smirk widen. *Of course* he's enjoying this. Kael lives for moments like these when he gets to stand over us, grinning like he's some dark, twisted god of misery.

"You know, Lyra," he says, circling me like a vulture. "I thought you'd be smarter than this. Trying to escape... now that's just disappointing. And I don't take disappointment lightly."

He nods to the guard, who throws me to the ground, and before I can even think, a boot slams into my side. Pain explodes in my ribs, sharp and searing, and I bite back a cry, clenching my fists so hard I think I might break my fingers.

But Kael's not done. He gestures to his other guards, who drag me up by my arms, holding me still while Kael leans in, his breath hot and rank against my ear.

"Thought you could outsmart me, hmm? Runoff into the night, escape your debt?" His voice is low, mocking, each word a tiny, precise cut. "Well, let me show you what happens to clever little runaways."

With a flick of his wrist, Kael nods to one of his men, who grabs a whip. Seeing it sends me a fresh wave of dread, but I set my jaw, forcing myself to meet Kael's eyes. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg.

The first crack of the whip splits the air, and the pain is blinding like fire scorching down my back. I bite down on my lip, tasting blood, and force myself not to scream. Each strike is worse than the last, tearing into me and leaving my skin raw and bleeding. But I won't scream. I won't give him that victory.

I'm barely conscious by the time they're done, slumped in the dirt like a broken doll. My body's screaming in pain, every nerve frayed and burning, but I hold onto that last shred of defiance. I won't let him see how much he's hurt me.

Kael crouches down, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. His face is twisted with pleasure.

"Remember this, Lyra," he whispers, his voice soft but cold as death. "You're mine. No amount of defiance, no little escape plan, will change that."

Then he nods to his guards, who drag me to my feet, half-carrying, half-dragging me to a dark, cramped cell. They throw me in, slamming the door shut behind them, leaving me alone in the pitch-black. "Who knows what he's planning to do to me tomorrow? I might as well end things now; Kael will do that anyway." I thought.

LYRA'S P.O.V.

When you're lying in a cell that smells like old iron and dried blood, it's amazing what you start to miss. Clean sheets, morning coffee, light without bars. That stupid jazz playlist I pretended to hate. And, against my will, I start remembering the Blackwell mansion-the last place I called "home" before I found myself in Kael's torture park.

Back then, I was Lyra Blackwell, the "heiress" who worked in her mother's fashion boutique on the side, a place with perfume-laced air and immaculate shelves. I can still picture it: racks of designer dresses and handbags arranged like little trophies. I ran that place like I was born to do it, which I was, technically. The customers loved me-partly because I always had a clever insult or a brutally honest opinion on their choices. They never knew if I was complimenting or suggesting they rethink their lives. It was fantastic.

Of course, I believed I'd inherited that life: daughter of the Blackwell legacy, the biggest fashion empire in the city, and a pretty hefty tech company on the side, thanks to Dad. Little did I know that wasn't all that would come with the "legacy?" There is nothing like watching your so-called family dine in splendor while you overhear murmurs of their debts, a network of phone calls, and threats. I never thought of being the bait.

I'll never forget the first time I caught Kael talking to his men. I was minding my own business, about to grab a midnight snack, when I heard that low, oily whisper through the doorway. Kael was on the phone, muttering about some under-the-table deal. My stomach twisted, but I stayed quiet. I didn't know what it meant back then, but now...if I could get out of this place, I'd make sure the whole world knew. Because if I've learned anything from being here, I'm a survivor. And right now, in this dark, damp dungeon, I'd bet my last breath on getting back at Kael and his creepy empire.

I shift on the hard stone floor, feeling every bruise and cut. They want to break me, but here's the thing-they don't know I'm already hurt long before Kael threw me into this place. When I lost the Blackwell legacy, I lost everything, including my trust in people. And that's why I'll make him regret ever thinking he could treat people this way and go scott-free.

As the hours went by, my mind started wandering. I close my eyes, wondering what it would be like to...disappear. To stop feeling the bite of cold stone or the sting of Kael's whip. I take a shuddering breath and make a wish-not the wish you make when you're blowing out birthday candles, but a quiet, last-ditch, all-or-nothing prayer. If only I could vanish from this dungeon. Maybe then, I'd finally have the upper hand.

And that's when I hear a whisper, thin as smoke, like it's coming through my skull.

[DING!]

[SYSTEM HAS DETECTED A HOST]

[INITIALISING.....]

[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]

My eyes snap open, and for a second, I wonder if I've finally cracked. System activated? Sure, why not? After everything I've been through, I might as well add auditory hallucinations to the list. But then, something odd happens. My vision sharpens like someone turned up the contrast in reality. I can see every scratch on the stone walls, every tiny detail in the cold, damp prison that's become my cage.

Before I can process what's happening, the whisper comes again, calm and relentless.

[CALIBRATION IN PROCESS....50%....98%..100%]

I sit up, my heart hammering. I may not be an expert on paranormal hallucinations, but this doesn't feel like one. It feels...real, which is either great news or very, very bad news. Either way, I brace myself as the voice continues, a hollow robotic tone.

[WELCOME, LYRA BLACKWELL, YOU ARE CHOSEN TO BE MY HOST]

Alright. So now I'm "accessing" some mystical system as if I have any idea what that means. But my mind latches onto the name it called The voice knows my real name. Not the name Kael's given me, but my own. My real identity. And for the first time in weeks, I laughed out loud despite being weak. I mean, of all the things to hallucinate, A SYSTEM? REALLY?

There's silence as the voice seems to process my scattered thoughts like it's pulling memories from the corners of my mind. I almost want to say something, but what do you say to a voice that suddenly appears in your head? "Dream on Lyra," I muttered. But I almost didn't finish those words when the voice continued.

[LYRA BLACKWELL. PROFILE DETECTED. SYSTEM INITIALISING OBJECTIVES.....]

Objectives? I wouldn't say I like the sound of that. But at this point, anything is better than lying on this cold floor, waiting for Kael to return with his whip. So, I grit my teeth and listen.

[PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: SURVIVAL]

Well, that's convenient. Basic, but I'll take it. This is getting interesting.

[SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: ESCAPE]

Now we're talking. I've been thinking about nothing else for weeks. But then, the voice goes on.

[TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: RETRIBUTION]

I could almost laugh. If this System knows me, it must know how perfectly that last objective fits. For as long as I can remember, I've dreamed of taking Kael and his empire down, of exposing his illegal dealings to the world. And now, finally, I might have the power to do just that.

I try to focus, feeling a strange new energy coursing through my veins. It's faint, like a low hum under my skin, but it's there.

Retribution. Now, that's a System feature I can get behind.

As I shift, the voice hums to life again.

[SYSTEM HAS GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FOLLOWING ABILITIES]

[STEALTH]

[INCREASED ENDURANCE]

[AUGMENTED SENSES]

[MORE ABILITIES WILL UNLOCK BASED ON PROGRESS]

I blink, feeling a strange surge of adrenaline. This is more than just some cryptic message. Whatever this System is, it's given me something real that might help me escape.

[STEALTH ACTIVATED] the voice says, and suddenly, my entire body feels lighter, like I'm blending into the darkness around me. Even the guards outside seem oblivious as if they can't sense me anymore.

A grin breaks across my face. Kael and his men don't know what's coming for them.

The voice echoes once more, steadily.

[REMEMBER, LYRA BLACKWELL: SURVIVAL, ESCAPE, AND RETRIBUTION ARE NOW YOUR DIRECTIVES. FULFILL THEM, AND THE SYSTEM WILL CONTINUE TO ADAPT]

I'm still processing this when a faint creak catches my attention. One of the guards is coming, peering down the hallway as if he's sensing something. I hold my breath, pressing myself into the shadows, and to my amazement, he looks right past me.

I feel a rush of triumph. The System works. It works.

I lean against the cold wall, letting a defiant smile creep across my face. For the first time in weeks, I succeeded in giving myself hope, which also strengthened me despite the whips I had taken earlier. At least now I have some energy, even if it might be temporary. I will plan another escape, which will be successful this time.

Just when I thought I was out of my wonderland for real and back to real life, I heard the voice again.

[GOODLUCK, LYRA BLACKWELL]

My eyes suddenly resembled the face of a frying pan. A SYSTEM!!!!! DO I HAVE ONE FOR REAL?

"Hello....hi... system? Can you please rewind? Can you repeat all you have said? The thing is, I thought I was daydreaming when you were giving the instructions. Mr System..." I called, but there was no response.

"Am I still hallucinating?