FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The world is built on numbers.

Not those meaningless numbers used just for records and designations, but living numbers that name, express, and construct everything.

Sunset, moonrise, the motion of the stars, the changing of the seasons, the blooming of flowers, the crashing of waves… all are numbers.

As our reliance on numbers deepened, the user interface—the terminal—granted those who could understand the logic within the ability to touch and manipulate numbers, thereby altering the world and shaping reality.

I sped up the time slightly on the terminals of one squad of the Praetorian Guard, then did the opposite to another squad and temporarily disabled their ability to sync time through the network.

On the route I took, the feedback from all surveillance cameras continuously looped, replaying footage captured after a certain point in time. As for other types of sensors, they would only report "All is normal" until I had achieved my goal.

Every door opened for me, as I was a user listed in the highest clearance access list. There was no reason for suspicion.

With just a flick of my fingers, I altered reality, making others see the world the way I wanted them to.

Moments like this always made me think of the ancient, primitive times, when religious followers revered supreme power, and I understood them deeply—I was practically doing godlike things.

Fortunately, I had no interest in being worshipped, so I just focused on my task.

Back in the courtroom, I found the door leading to the detention room, and the system provided the code to let me through.

Why did this backdoor exist, and why was it installed in so many places? Who installed it, and for what purpose? If it was meant for those with decryption abilities, were there other clues pointing to a way to obtain this key?

Perhaps I could spend the rest of my life as a fugitive cracking this mystery. It’s a shame, though—I had thought José wouldn’t have been such a bad companion, and I was starting to get used to relying on Ian as a solid support. But Luther would do, I suppose. Seeing him eat the strange meals churned out by malfunctioning food synthesizers without so much as a grimace convinced me that this mutt wasn’t the type to complain about rations. I might miss serving on the Empire’s Heart—those were fun times—but fortunately, I’ve always been good at adapting to new situations.

The thought of how optimistic I was made me smirk.

I didn’t know how to open wormholes, so capturing the Archduke of Siberia and forcing him to create an escape route would be the part of the plan with the most unknowns. But who knows? I heard that husky’s easy to talk to. He might even just let us go or hand over the Empire’s Gate without a fight.

I shook my head, deciding not to test the limits of my optimism any further.

Only one detention cell was in use. I walked to the control panel of the sliding door. The transparent polymer wall let me see the mutt, sitting dazed on a small bed, staring blankly at an empty wall.

I swear I’ll figure out what they did to you!

The detention room system was isolated, so it took a little extra effort to deal with it. I pulled out my terminal and tools, dismantled the panel, snipped a few optical fibers to create a physical interface, and began hacking the system.

Luckily, the palace's security setup seemed to rely more on a certain kind of deterrence, so I didn’t encounter too many obstacles. After successfully unlocking the sliding door, I checked the time—twenty minutes left, ahead of schedule.

I wiped the slightly damp fur from my forehead, packed up my tools, and prepared to get Luther out of this hellhole immediately.

"Luther," I tried touching him to let the mutt know it was me, but that strange barrier was still there. If Luther were a psychic, this wouldn’t be surprising. "Wake up, we’re leaving!"

"Abel!" Miraculously, Luther noticed me, and his brown eyes finally had some focus. "What’s happening? How much time do I have left?"

"No, that doesn’t matter." I almost cried from relief, seeing him snap out of that dazed state. "I found a way for us to escape, but we don’t have much time." I glanced again at the countdown on my terminal. I had worried this part would take forever, but Luther had woken up surprisingly quickly.

"I can’t leave," Luther said slowly. "Richter… needs me..." He began to mumble like he was sleepwalking, and I feared he was slipping back into his previous state.

"Now’s not the time for guilt!" I raised my voice, as if that would help, though it was a shot in the dark. "I’m pretty sure getting yourself hanged isn’t going to help the Admiral in any way!"

"No… you don’t understand, Abel. It’s hard to explain…" Luther’s gaze grew more distant. "Even at this distance, it’s difficult… any farther, and I might lose the connection…"

"What?" I was worried something was seriously wrong with Luther’s mind. I tried to stick to the original plan, but I still couldn’t touch him. The closer I got to the mutt’s body, the stronger the mysterious resistance. The Three Great Fallacies of Logic—this thing only shows up for self-protection, doesn’t it?

"Abel, listen carefully. This is important." Luther suddenly shivered violently, locking eyes with me again. "Find a way to get Richter closer to me, even just a little."

"Why?" I immediately responded, trying to understand the situation a bit more, but the mutt had clearly drifted off again to some place only reason could name. "Luther, why?"

I felt utterly useless. My friend was right in front of me, clearly suffering from some kind of harm, and yet all I could do was ask meaningless questions. Luther, just wait—I’ll save you, even if I have to drag this bed all the way to the Archduke of Siberia!

“You saved me a lot of trouble, so I’ll spare your life, fox.” A deep voice whispered into my ear, the pressure in its tone made every hair on my body stand on end, nearly causing me to jump. “Don’t cause any trouble, or I might change my mind.”

I hadn’t heard any sound at all. Sure, sometimes when I get too focused, I might lose track of my surroundings, but I was certain that just a moment ago, there hadn’t been a single person in the holding cell or the hallway. No matter how absent-minded I could be, there was no way I would’ve missed someone entering through that heavy security door!

So I knew—this was no ordinary figure. Not to mention, his tone when he said he’d "spare my life" was far from convincing, so I grabbed a wrench nearby and hurled it in the direction of the voice.

In the next instant, I found myself pinned to the wall by some unseen force, completely immobilized, as if the wall had suddenly become magnetized and I was a large iron block. At least I could still blink, my mind racing.

This was the first time I’d personally experienced something this supernatural, though I’d seen it happen to others before. It instantly made me realize that the other person was also a psychic. And being pinned to the wall felt far scarier than it looked.

“I already told you, don’t cause any trouble,” the speaker warned again in his deep voice. “I’m not here for you, but I don’t mind killing one more.”

Even though I was now like a pathetic little insect, crushed against the wall by an invisible hand, at least I could finally get a clear look at the speaker.

A very tall white wolf with deep blue eyes—this was a Snow. His fur had lost its sheen, with split ends and a dry, coarse look that showed his age. But no matter his posture or the aura he exuded, anyone with a shred of sanity could tell how dangerous this burly white wolf was.

Then I remembered: he just said " killing one more." Rationalism he was here to kill Luther.

“You better give me a very good reason why I shouldn’t skin you right now,” the white wolf snarled, grabbing the fur on Luther’s chest and slamming him into the wall, causing the mutt to whimper in pain and shrink back. “Maybe start by explaining why Richter needs you, and what kind of connection you’re maintaining.” The white wolf pulled a serrated dagger from his waist and slowly began slicing into Luther’s right cheek, inching toward his eye. Dark red beads of blood welled up, sliding down the blade and finally dripping onto the ground.

Why could he touch Luther?

No, that doesn’t matter—focus! How do you fight a psychic, someone who can pin you to the wall with just a thought?

I only knew of one way, but I didn’t have the right tools with me.

“I guarantee you that when I start, it’ll make a whipping feel like a vacation massage,” the white wolf continued, and I was certain he was about to gouge out Luther’s eye, but all I could do was stand there helplessly and watch. “After turning you into a rug, we can talk about how to slowly deal with the rest of you.”

Just like… always. I… could only watch.

I couldn’t turn my head, I couldn’t even speak. But I was screaming in my mind, hoping Luther could hear me.

If Luther was a psychic too, maybe he would know how to fight this hulking Snow.

So, with a strange mixture of fantasy and hope, I shouted as hard as I could in my mind for the mutt.

I didn’t know if it was just my imagination or a coincidence, but Luther twitched a couple of times, as if he’d noticed the white wolf before him.

“Richter… we’re… connected…” Luther trembled and struggled, forcing out those words. “Too many… shards of adamantine…”

“What?” the white wolf demanded, sounding even angrier, though at least he paused the dagger, no longer cutting deeper.

“The state of the connection… bypassing the existence circle… removing the adamantine shards…” Luther squirmed again, locking eyes with the white wolf. “I can… save him.”

The burly Snow didn’t respond immediately. He wiped the blood from his shoe, sheathed the dagger, and drew a circle in the air with his right index finger. Then he frowned and glared at Luther. Finally, he leaned in close to Luther’s neck and deeply sniffed several times.

I didn’t quite understand what that meant to a gray wolf, but I hoped it was a good sign. Don’t wolves and dogs… like to sniff each other?

“That brat’s taste hasn’t changed at all,” the white wolf sighed, releasing Luther, causing the mutt to collapse to the floor, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. “Always picks the dark-fur ones.”

The pressure holding me disappeared, and I stumbled a little but managed to regain my balance without falling. I wanted to rush to Luther to check if he was okay, but the white wolf stopped me.

“I’m old; my control isn’t what it used to be.” He swiftly gestured with complex hand movements, casting a sidelong glance at me. “I’m not confident I can alter your memory without turning you into… an idiot, so give us some space.” Rationalism as my witness, the area where the white wolf and Luther stood suddenly seemed a bit dimmer. What did he just do? “Let me say it one more time—don’t cause trouble, and I guarantee the mutt will remain intact.”

With that, the white wolf waved his hand a couple of times, and then I couldn’t hear his voice anymore.

Through some kind of barrier, I could see the white wolf and Luther’s mouths moving, but I couldn’t hear any part of their conversation.

Maybe I should record a video and later analyze their lip movements?

Rationally, I really wanted to do that, but my instincts told me that if I didn’t want to end up as a rug or something worse, I should just obediently stand here.

As their conversation progressed, the white wolf’s furrowed brow gradually relaxed, and his expression even softened slightly. His ears drooped a little, pointing behind him.

Luther, on the other hand, seemed the same as before, with his eyes losing focus from time to time, becoming extremely distant. But it seemed like they were still managing to communicate effectively.

Incredible—maybe this is one of the things psychics can do as well.

With nothing else to do, I quietly observed the two canine figures, one black and one white, noting the way they occasionally bared their fangs while speaking and their subtle body language—this made me realize something.

When Ian had explained that gray wolves from the same faction were basically all relatives, I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now, looking closely, I could see that this burly Snow bore a striking resemblance to the Admiral—especially from this angle, with that jawline.

I definitely didn’t know as much about gray wolf society as Ian, but deep inside, a question and a guess began to surface.

But before I could finish my train of thought, the white wolf turned to glance at me, and a flash of red light flickered through his deep blue eyes.