They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World-Chapter 148: Not Finished Yet!

I walked through the village, hands in my pockets, taking in the repair work still ongoing around me.

People were working hard.

I was still watching a group of men try to maneuver a massive beam into position when I walked directly into someone’s back.

"What the—"

I backstepped, catching my balance.

Rowan stood in front of me, turning around.

"Apologies, Young Master." His tone was polite. "Didn’t realize you were right behind me."

Asshole. You’ve been guiding me here for the last five minutes. Who does you think I’ve been following?

Though I kept the thought firmly internal and glanced past him at the house we’d stopped in front of.

It was modest but well-maintained, slightly larger than the ones immediately around it. A small garden along the front wall, mostly herbs. Clean shutters. Someone had recently swept the path leading to the door.

"Is this it?" I asked.

Rowan gave a stiff nod.

Then he turned back toward the way we’d come, deliberately walking close enough that his shoulder caught mine as he passed.

Not an accident.

I watched him go, jaw tight.

What is his problem?

Then I turned back to the house and pushed the door open without knocking.

The interior was warm, lit by afternoon light filtering through half-open shutters. Simple furniture, a worn but clean couch, a low table, shelves lined with dried herbs.

I stepped inside, looking around.

"Young Master?"

Agnes appeared from a side doorway, wiping her hands on a cloth, her eyes wide with surprise.

I raised one hand in a casual wave.

"Yo."

Her cheeks flushed immediately, a reaction I was apparently getting used to seeing.

"What is Young Master doing here?" Her voice carried that familiar mix of concern and exasperation.

"You should be resting. The healer said another week at minimum before—"

"I’m fine." I rolled my shoulders experimentally, ignoring the pull of my bandaged ribs. "See?"

Agnes looked entirely unconvinced by this demonstration.

She pressed her lips together, studying me for a moment, then simply shook her head.

"Please sit down at least." She gestured to the couch. "I’ll bring something to eat—"

"Not hungry."

"Young Master—"

"Where’s your mother?"

Agnes paused, her expression softening.

"She’s inside. With the others." She glanced toward the same side doorway she’d come from.

"The infected ones have been staying together here since the beast wave. It’s easier to manage their care with everyone in one place."

She moved toward what was clearly the kitchen area, pulling an apron from a hook and tying it around her waist with practiced efficiency.

"It’ll just take a few minutes. I was going to prepare their lunch anyway." She glanced back at me.

"Please just sit on the couch. You walked here, that’s more than enough exertion for someone who was unconscious three days ago."

I exhaled through my nose and sat down.

The couch was old but comfortable, the cushions worn into softness by years of use.

I leaned back, watching Agnes work.

She moved through the kitchen, chopping vegetables without looking at the knife, adjusting the heat on the small iron stove by touch, tasting the broth and adding seasoning without measuring. Her hands never stopped moving.

Completely in her element.

I found myself watching longer than I intended, then deliberately looked away at the room.

The shelves of herbs. The small personal touches, a painted tile on the windowsill, a braided rug worn thin in the center.

The smell of food gradually filled the room, warm and genuinely appetizing despite my earlier claim of not being hungry.

After maybe fifteen minutes, Agnes wiped her hands on her apron and called toward the side doorway.

"Mother? Lunch is ready. Can you bring everyone through?"

Then, sounds of movement came from the other room.

Sira came first, moving carefully, one hand trailing along the wall for support. Behind her came three others.

All four bore the same signs, the slight trembling in their hands, the exhaustion that went deeper than just physical tiredness.

They settled at the table without much conversation, and Agnes served them, making sure each person’s preferences were accommodated, refilling cups before they had to ask.

Then she brought a plate to the couch and sat down beside me with her own food.

"You should have said you were hungry earlier," she said mildly.

"I said I wasn’t."

"And now?"

The food smelled incredible. Simple vegetable soup with bread, but made properly.

"Now I’m being polite," I said, and picked up the spoon.

She made a small sound that might have been a suppressed laugh and started on her own plate.

We ate in comfortable quiet.

When my plate was empty, I set it on the low table and looked across the room at Sira.

She was eating slowly, her movements deliberate, aware of her own limitations.

I pulled up my debug vision quietly, the overlay materializing across my sight.

I focused on Sira, pushing the analysis deeper than I’d managed before.

The interface built itself in layers, processing.

[ENTITY_SCAN: ACTIVE]

entity_id: "sira_thorne"

entity_type: "human"

rank: "unranked"

[PATHOGEN_DETECTED]

pathogen_id: "unknown_0x7F"

pathogen_type: "corrupted_miasma"

classification: UNKNOWN

origin: UNKNOWN

infection_stage: 2/5

infection_rate: +0.3/day

affected_systems: {

mana_channels: "corrupted" (severity: 0.61)

circulatory: "compromised" (severity: 0.44)

nervous_system: "minor_interference" (severity: 0.28)

vitality_core: "weakening" (severity: 0.52)

}

[PATHOGEN_PROPERTIES]

structure: "parasitic_mana_lattice"

behavior: "replicating"

host_interaction: "mana_channel_corruption"

removal_method: UNKNOWN

cure_data: NULL

resistance: {

physical: IMMUNE

conventional_magic: HIGH

purification_magic: MODERATE

debug_manipulation: UNVERIFIED

}

[MODIFICATION_ATTEMPT]

status: ACCESS_DENIED

reason: "pathogen_complexity_exceeds_current_clearance"

required_rank: UNKNOWN

current_rank: C

My eyes widened.

I pushed the scan further, trying to pull more information about the pathogen itself. Its origin. Its structure. How it was spreading.

The system processed for longer than usual, the interface flickering slightly with the effort.

[EXTENDED_PATHOGEN_ANALYSIS]

spread_vector: "environmental_exposure"

exposure_source: {

primary: "atmospheric_contamination" (localized)

secondary: "water_source_contamination" (localized)

tertiary: NULL

}

contamination_radius: ~2.3km

contamination_origin: TRIANGULATING...

contamination_origin: UNRESOLVED

pathogen_age: UNKNOWN

natural_occurrence: false

I stared at that last line.

Natural occurrence: false.

Which meant this wasn’t just some naturally occurring forest sickness. Something had created this. Or something had caused it to appear.

How does a simple village woman get infected with something like this?

My inner thoughts churned.

A corrupted miasma with no known cure, unnatural in origin. Affecting people who’d done nothing.

My frown deepened.

And the beast wave.

The villagers had said the beasts started acting strange roughly four to five weeks ago. Becoming aggressive. Coming closer to the village than they ever had before.

The timing wasn’t a coincidence.

Is there something wrong inside the forest?

Something deep enough that it was pushing the beasts outward, contaminating the air and water supply of nearby settlements? Something that had appeared suddenly enough to flip this entire region from peaceful border territory to a disaster zone in under two months?

I tried to push the scan further, searching for more information on the contamination origin.

[ORIGIN_TRIANGULATION: ACTIVE]

data_points_available: INSUFFICIENT

triangulation_status: FAILED

recommendation: "direct_proximity_scan_required"

minimum_distance_required: <500m_from_origin

The system couldn’t resolve it from here.

I’d need to actually go into the forest to get a proper read.

I tried a different approach, checking if I could do anything about the infection itself.

[MODIFICATION_ATTEMPT: pathogen_suppression]

target: "pathogen_0x7F"

status: ACCESS_DENIED

[MODIFICATION_ATTEMPT: pathogen_removal]

target: "pathogen_0x7F"

status: ACCESS_DENIED

[MODIFICATION_ATTEMPT: mana_channel_purification]

target: "sira_thorne/mana_channels"

status: ACCESS_DENIED

reason: "rank_insufficient / pathogen_resistance_active"

Three denials in a row.

Tsk.

I couldn’t touch it. Not even close. Whatever this thing was, it was well above my current clearance level.

I closed the debug window, exhaling slowly through my nose.

The others at the table were talking quietly among themselves. Agnes was clearing plates, her back turned.

I looked at Sira one more time without the overlay. Just an older woman eating lunch carefully, her hands trembling slightly, her color too pale, her movements too deliberate.

Twenty-four days to Stage 3. Whatever that meant.

I needed more information. Needed to actually understand what I was dealing with before I could do anything useful.

I stood carefully, steadying myself against the arm of the couch.

"Thank you for the food," I said to Agnes’s back.

She turned, a question already forming on her face.

I didn’t give her time to ask it.

"I’ll be back later." I moved to the door. "Don’t worry."

She looked like she wanted to say several things about that.

I stepped outside before she could.

And began walking without a specific destination, letting my feet carry me while my mind turned over what I’d seen.

The village thinned out toward the western edge, construction sounds fading behind me, until the last few houses gave way to open ground and then the treeline.

I stopped at the edge.

Thornwood Forest.

From here, in full daylight, it looked less threatening than it had last night. Just trees. Dense, the undergrowth thick, the canopy cutting off the light within the first thirty or forty feet.

But I could feel something when I looked at it.

The air here was different. Slightly heavier. Not enough that you’d notice unless you were looking for it.

There’s something in there. I’m certain of it.

Something sitting at the center of all of this. The miasma. The beast wave.

I just stood there, studying the treeline, trying to see past the first layer of shadow.

"You shouldn’t go in there."

A voice came from behind me and to the right.

I turned.

The guard captain, I still didn’t know his name, was walking toward me from the direction of the village. His left shoulder was heavily bandaged, his arm in a sling. His face looked ten years older than it probably was, carved with exhaustion and recent trauma.

He stopped beside me, following my gaze toward the treeline.

"Wasn’t planning to," I said. "Just looking."

He made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh.

"Looking from a distance is fine. Going in is a different matter. The hunting parties that went in three weeks ago to investigate the beast activity..." He paused. "We’re still missing two of them."

I looked at him.

"They went in and didn’t come back?"

"Sent eight men. Got six back." His jaw worked.

"The ones who returned said they ran into beast activity within the first kilometer. Nothing we hadn’t seen before, at first. Then something scared the beasts, sent them running in all directions." His eyes didn’t leave the treeline.

"Our men ran too. When they counted themselves afterward, two were gone. No bodies. No traces."

We both looked at the forest in silence for a moment.

"Does Greyford know?" I asked.

"We sent word three weeks ago. " His voice went flat. "But there was no response."

Of course.

I looked back at the treeline, at the shadow sitting just beyond the first layer of trees.

Something is in there for sure.

And whatever it was, it wasn’t finished with Oakmere yet.