The walls of Division Grey didn't let silence exist. Even in the dim room Seris left him to rest, the hum of machines pressed against his skull, steady and inescapable. He closed his eyes, but the System's fractured text still burned across the dark.
[ERROR: Undefined Parameter.]
[Warning: Soul Integrity—75%.]
It wasn't over. It wasn't even slowing down.
The door slid open with a soft hiss. Hale stood there, hands behind his back, posture perfect as always. "On your feet."
Theron's muscles ached like someone had poured molten lead into his veins. He pushed himself up without a word, ignoring the tight pull of pain across his ribs. Hale's sharp gaze tracked every movement as if measuring how close he was to collapse.
"This way," Hale said, stepping aside.
Theron followed him into the hall, boots echoing softly against polished floors. The corridors were pristine, white and black panels glowing faintly, the air cold enough to sting his lungs. Cameras lined the ceiling every few paces, their lenses following him with predatory precision.
"Where are we going now?" Theron asked.
"The Kennel," Hale replied. "You'll want to see what you're dealing with."
That didn't sound reassuring.
They passed a wide window that opened into a reinforced chamber. A woman in a torn combat suit was restrained inside, wrists and ankles bound in glowing cuffs. Her head jerked unnaturally as if she was fighting something only she could see. Runes flickered across her skin, pulsing with every ragged breath.
Theron slowed, gaze lingering. Hale didn't stop walking. "She was promising," he said. "Now she's a lesson."
Theron moved on without comment.
The corridor curved, and the air shifted—he could feel tension humming in the walls like a heartbeat. They stepped through another door, and the space widened into a sprawling hall.
The Kennel.
It wasn't a dormitory, though that might've been the first impression. It was more like a high-security camp for predators. Rooms lined the outer walls, each fronted with reinforced glass doors. Hunters lounged or trained inside, some leaning casually against walls, others pacing like caged beasts.
Conversation dipped as Theron entered. Dozens of eyes turned his way, sharp and calculating. He didn't miss the way a few hunters smiled—predatory, curious smiles.
"This is where we keep the Listed," Hale said, voice calm but carrying authority. "The ones too dangerous to release, too useful to discard."
Theron didn't answer.
A man near one of the glass doors stepped out into the open hall, his presence instantly commanding attention. He had short-cropped blond hair and a jagged scar running down one cheek, his grin wide but unfriendly.
"So this is the alley rat," he said, sizing Theron up. "The one who skipped straight to Rank A."
Theron met his gaze evenly. "And you are?"
"Kael," the man said. "Top dog in here. For now." He let his grin sharpen. "You'll want to remember that."
Hale said nothing, simply watching.
Another figure moved closer from the shadows of a nearby door—a woman this time, tall and willowy, her dark hair falling in glossy waves over a sleeveless combat vest. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her amber eyes bright with interest.
"Leave him alone, Kael," she said, her tone smooth and teasing. "We all know Hale doesn't parade someone through the Kennel unless he's important."
Kael smirked, glancing back at her. "You think he's important, Selene?"
"I think," she said, her gaze flicking back to Theron, "he's dangerous."
Theron stayed silent, feeling every stare on him like pressure. The hunters here weren't recruits or soldiers. They were weapons, each one honed to a lethal edge.
They moved on. Hale led him deeper into the hall, past more faces—some indifferent, some hostile, a few hollow-eyed and broken. One man sat cross-legged on the floor of his cell, whispering to himself, his arms covered in glowing runes that crawled like living ink. Another slammed his fist against reinforced glass when Theron passed, the impact making the door hum.
"This is what Grey does," Hale said quietly, not bothering to glance back. "We contain threats. Train them. Break them. Whatever it takes."
Theron finally spoke. "And me? What do you plan to do with me?"
Hale didn't answer.
They reached the far end of the hall, where a massive reinforced door stood closed, flanked by two armed guards. Hale stopped, turning to face him fully.
"You've seen enough for now," Hale said. "Consider this your new reality."
Theron's jaw tightened. "A prison."
"A crucible," Hale corrected smoothly. "Whether you come out sharper or shattered is up to you."
The door behind them slid open suddenly. Lyss stepped through, her fiery-red hair catching the cold light, her smirk soft but dangerous.
"Well," she purred, eyes dancing over Theron. "Looks like our stray's getting the grand tour."
Theron didn't react, but she closed the distance with a predator's grace, looping her arm loosely through his.
"Careful," she whispered near his ear. "Stare too long at the wrong person here, and they'll decide you're prey."
She let go, her smile playful as she brushed past him. Hale didn't acknowledge her, but the faint tension in his shoulders told Theron enough: Lyss went where she pleased.
"Back to your quarters," Hale said curtly, stepping aside.
Theron turned, catching one last glimpse of Kael's grin and Selene's piercing gaze before the door closed behind him. The hallway felt colder now, heavier, like the weight of every stare in that room still clung to his back.
Every Listed hunter here was a predator. Some wanted to test him. Some wanted to kill him. And some…
Some might be worse than both.