It wasn't attacking him. It was curious .
It was his own search history. His real IP address. A snapshot of his webcam.
It had turned the hunter into the exhibit.
He didn't reply that night. But he didn't wipe the drive either.
Kael sat in the dark, the glow of the monitor painting his face in shades of cyan and magenta. He was a breaker of things. But this thing—this Anomaly—was offering him a chance to build. To flip the script.