The silence wasn't just quiet—it was heavy. Like the whole place was holding its breath.
Kael stood still in the corridor, mouth slightly open, breathing slow and shallow. The air was thick, cloying. A strange mix of rust, old oil, and sweat. And something else—something faint but sour. It curled in his nose and clung to the back of his throat. Blood, maybe. Not fresh. Just... old. Like it had dried into the walls a long time ago.
He ran a hand along the wall beside him. The panel was cracked, gritty with dust. His fingers came away grey. The lights above him sputtered, one buzzing every few seconds like it was trying to die but couldn't quite manage. Shadows jumped and twitched across the floor, his own among them.
He swallowed. His throat hurt. Maybe from dehydration. Maybe from something else.
He couldn't tell how long he'd been walking anymore. Minutes? Hours? It all bled together in this place where time didn't seem to mean anything.
He remembered waking up—barely. A white room. The sharp sting of cold metal against skin. The beep of machines. For a second, he'd thought he was in a hospital. But that illusion had cracked fast. The lights went out. The machines went quiet. And the door had unlocked by itself.
That was hours ago. Or yesterday. Or longer.
Now it was just him. And this hallway.
Now, here he was.
Barefoot, shirtless, but oddly not cold. The air didn't move. It felt stale, like it had been trapped in here for a long time. Or maybe time just didn't mean anything here anymore.
He passed a shattered glass panel that once might've been a touchscreen or control interface. Now, it was just a jagged mirror. For the first time, Kael saw his reflection properly—and flinched.
His skin looked wrong.
Not just pale—drained. Like someone had wrung the color out of him. His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven rhythm, the veins near his collarbone glowing faintly blue beneath the surface. Not like blood. Like... wires. Or light leaking through cracks.
Thin lines stretched across his torso—some faded, almost ghost-like, others red and angry like they'd barely closed. He touched one near his ribs and flinched. It twitched. Or maybe he did. No—there it was again. A ripple beneath the skin. Subtle. But there.
Something was under there. Moving.
His breath caught. He stepped back and braced a hand on the wall.
Without thinking, his fingers drifted to his temple. And there it was again—that strange flutter. A soft pulse, just beneath the bone. Like a second heartbeat buried behind his eyes.
His mouth went dry.
"What the hell did they do to me…" he whispered.
The words barely left his lips, but still—too loud.
They bounced weakly off the corridor walls, swallowed before they could even echo. Like the hallway didn't want to remember what he said.
Like it had heard it before.
This place is wrong.
He didn't remember much from before waking. Blurs, flashes. A face, maybe. A name on someone's lips. A fall?
But the part that stuck—stuck like a splinter under his skin—was a feeling. Not fear. Not pain. Not even anger.
Betrayal.
He turned the corner and paused. A sign overhead blinked weakly.
SECTOR 3 – ENGINEERING
ACCESS RESTRICTED – CLEARANCE LEVEL OMEGA
The word Omega meant nothing to him. But the cracked keypad beside the door had dried blood on it. A lot.
He stared at it longer than he should have.
Not because he was afraid. He wasn't.
That was the problem—he wasn't anything.
No panic. No revulsion. No rush of adrenaline or instinct screaming to run.
Just… blank.
And that hollowness scared him more than any corpse ever could.
His bare feet moved across the cold floor, each step brushing loose grit and broken tile. Somewhere above, a light fizzled to life for half a second—just enough to paint the hallway in a flash of harsh white.
That's when he saw it.
A shape slumped against the far wall.
Kael froze. His spine stiffened before his legs even caught up.
The figure was a man. Or what was left of one.
He wore a black uniform, stiff with grime and creased like he'd died mid-struggle. No nameplate. No markings. Just fabric soaked with something long dried. His chest was torn wide open, ribs splayed like snapped branches, pointing outwards.
There was no blood on the floor. No pool. No smear. Just streaks—faded, rust-colored trails along the wall like he'd been pulled up before he bled out.
Or drained.
Kael's stomach rolled.
Not from the sight—but from the realization that he still didn't feel anything.
Kael leaned closer. Something was clenched in the man's hand.
A dog tag.
Lt. M. Sorin
U-SIM NETWORK CORP
NO RESPAWN. PERMAFLAGGED.
His fingers tingled. That last word—permaflagged—hit somewhere deep. Like a memory trying to surface.
No respawn.
So… this was permanent?
He stared at the body again. Not decomposing. Not fresh either. Frozen in time. Just like everything else here.
Kael shoved the tag into his waistband and stood.
Further down, the corridor opened up into a chamber. A control room, maybe. Panels lined the walls, most shattered. One screen still glowed dimly.
WARNING: CORE STABILITY AT 3%
ISOLATION MODE BREACHED
RECONSTRUCTION FAILURE. SYSTEM SENTIENCE ACTIVE.
That last line…
"System sentience?" Kael whispered aloud.
The screen blinked. Then something new typed itself out, line by line:
Kael. You are not authorized.
Return to Pod. Termination will commence in 00:03:00.
Countdown initiated.
Kael backed away slowly. "No, no, no—what the hell is this?"
The door behind him sealed with a loud hiss. A red light flashed.
LOCKDOWN ENGAGED.
"Shit."
His heart did beat faster now. Finally. A taste of adrenaline. A reminder he was still human—or at least, part of him was.
A hatch opened to his left. Emergency crawlspace. Instinct took over. He ducked in, crawling blindly into the narrow tunnel. The air inside was thicker, moist. Something dripped onto his back.
Don't stop. Keep going.
The metal below his palms vibrated—machinery coming to life behind the walls. Something big. Mechanical. Angry.
He reached a junction and turned left without thinking.
Another screen greeted him.
This one was smaller. Handheld, almost. A cracked datapad, still flickering.
He picked it up.
[Audio Log 47: Dr. Ilia Vren]
Static. Then a voice, broken but clear:
"This is the last log. If you're hearing this—God help you. We tried to shut it down. We all tried. But it learned. Not like a machine. Like a person. Faster than we ever imagined. And Kael… if you're still alive… I'm sorry. We didn't know it would choose you."
The recording ended.
Kael stared at the screen, hands shaking slightly.
"They used me," he whispered. "They knew."
But knew what?
What was he?
He emerged from the crawlspace into another corridor. This one was dark, save for the emergency red lights pulsing in rhythm. The whole facility was groaning now—like it was breathing.
Kael pressed his back to the wall and closed his eyes.
For a second, a memory surged—something not from this place.
A lake. Grass. Laughter. Someone calling his name. His real name?
But it faded too fast to hold.
A sound. A voice.
Faint. Female.
"…Kael?"
His eyes snapped open.
"Who's there?" he called.
No response.
He stepped forward slowly, every muscle tense. The hallway was empty. Silent. But he had heard it.
He wasn't alone anymore.
And somehow… that was worse.