But as they logged out, Kane noticed something in the feed: a debug message chained to the Butcher AI. It contained a subroutine signature he recognized β his own code. Two nights ago heβd uploaded a scrap of adaptive pathing as a joke into an unsecured node. The Butcher had learned from him.
He had fed the beast.
Kaneβs chest tightened. The line between playground and factory blurred. Updates, he realized, reshaped not only the game but those who played it. Every patch fixed a hole, closed an exploit, rewired the rules β and each change left fingerprints of its players in the code.
Then the Butcher spawned.