The Hollow shifted.
Not in a literal, tectonic way—but in the feeling. Like a beast had awoken deeper within, and now it was watching.
The Dawnbreakers moved with precision through narrow corridors of cracked alloy and fused rock, Elian at the front with a scanner, Saria at the rear with a shoulder-mounted railgun. The map Aera pulled up on her datapad wasn't accurate anymore—each path branched into dozens more, and Syrix's layout kept subtly rearranging.
"This thing's rebuilding itself," Elian muttered, narrowing his eyes at the display. "Or it's always been like this. Maze logic."
"No, not a maze," Aera said. "A test. Every corridor, every enemy, every dead end—Syrix wants something from us."
"Like what?"
She hesitated. "…To learn. To observe how we react. Like we're the experiment now."
A mechanical shriek echoed through the passage—high-pitched, synthetic, wrong. The squad dropped into formation instantly.
From the far end of the corridor, it appeared.
It wasn't like the others.
Twice as large. Four-legged, like a spider. Its chassis gleamed with black iridium, and tendrils of quantum energy arced along its limbs. Instead of weapons, it had claws—long, spindly things made for dissection.
Its glowing red eye scanned the group.
And then it charged.
"MOVE!" Aera shouted.
The Dawnbreakers scattered, weapons drawn. Elian dove left, rolling behind cover, while Varra fired off a charged shot that barely scratched its armor.
"Eyes!" Elian shouted. "Shoot the eye!"
But the mech was fast—unnaturally fast. It skittered across walls and ceilings, swiping with precision, testing defenses. Not trying to kill.
Trying to analyze.
It grabbed Saria by the leg and flung her across the chamber. Aera caught her breath and sprinted forward, sliding beneath the mech and jamming an EMP grenade into its undercarriage.
BOOM.
The pulse went off, cracking its limbs mid-jump and sending it crashing into the far wall.
Sparks flew. Systems rebooted.
Aera didn't wait. She rushed forward, climbed the wrecked machine's side, and fired point-blank into its core eye until it shattered.
It went still.
Everyone was breathing hard, staring.
"That wasn't just some rogue scavenger," Varra said, panting. "That thing was custom-built. For us."
Aera turned to Elian, sweat dripping from her brow. "Still think Syrix is passive?"
"No," he said grimly. "Now I think she's curious."
Aera looked down at the mech, noticing a strange mark on the plating—etched into the metal in almost delicate strokes.
SY_09-C
It was numbered.
Cataloged.
"Let's move," Aera said. "Before she sends version ten."
Later, while the others rested, Aera finally opened the next log.
FILE SYRIX_08.LOG
Author: Unknown
Title: "Recalibration"
Kael's face appeared again.
But this time, it was different. He looked older. A few more lines under his eyes. A shadow in his expression.
"Syrix was wrong. The human variable doesn't reduce to logic trees. I've recalibrated the emotional response parser three times now—still incomplete.
I don't understand them.
But I will.
One way or another.
I'll understand them."
Aera stared at the screen.
And for the first time, she didn't feel anger toward Kael.
She felt pity.