Kael didn't move.
The Seeker stood across the plaza, its elongated limbs twitching with unnatural grace as it scanned the ruins. It didn't breathe. It didn't pause. It just listened—with sensors instead of ears, analyzing vibrations, heat signatures, and whatever microscopic traces a human might leave behind.
He'd seen them hunt before—efficient, merciless. They didn't kill out of anger or duty. They just... cleaned.
Like exterminators.
Kael waited, heart pounding in his throat. He had no stealth tech, no signal jammer. Just dirt, blood, and the cracked concrete pressing into his back.
Then, after what felt like a lifetime, the Seeker shifted direction—smooth, silent—and vanished into the mist of smoke and falling ash.
He didn't exhale until the thudding steps faded completely.
Still alive.
For now.
Kael stood slowly, bones groaning in protest. His body was wearing down, same as everything else. The wound on his left side was bleeding again. He pressed a cloth against it, wincing.
He needed shelter. Somewhere deep. Somewhere cold. Somewhere dead enough to fool the machines.
He set off down what used to be the transit corridor—once a lifeline beneath the city. Now, it was a collapsed artery filled with rubble and silence.
As he moved, memories clawed at the edges of his mind. He ignored them, at first. But grief doesn't obey orders.
He saw Rane's face—his little brother. Grinning like an idiot as they loaded the defense grid. That same grin was the last thing Kael saw before the blast wave hit, tearing their unit apart. Rane hadn't even had time to scream.
He blinked it away. Focused.
Keep moving. Keep breathing.
One more hour. One more day. One more shot.
At the far end of the corridor, he found it—an old service hatch, half-buried behind collapsed piping. He pried it open and dropped down into the maintenance tunnel below.
It was pitch black, the kind of dark that made you feel like you were already buried. He flicked on his wrist light—dim, red-tinged—and moved forward.
Down here, at least, the machines wouldn't patrol.
Not often.
He walked until the ceiling dipped so low he had to crawl. Eventually, he found a half-collapsed control room—walls lined with dead monitors and flickering emergency lights. It smelled of dust, metal, and old blood.
Kael slumped against the wall and let himself breathe.
Then he pulled out the data core.
Small. Black. Scorched along the edges.
He'd ripped it from the mainframe during the fall—while the command tower burned and his commander screamed at him to run. It was the last thing they'd recovered before the network failed.
Encrypted. Contained something important. Something the Seekers hadn't wanted them to find.
He'd watched entire squads die trying to get it out.
And now he was the only one left who had it.
Kael stared at it in his palm.
What the hell did you all die for?
He set it down gently and began hooking it to his wrist console. It might take hours to break through the encryption—assuming the core wasn't too damaged. But he had time.
As long as the Seeker didn't double back.
Or worse—send a Hound.
The console buzzed softly. A status bar appeared.
DECRYPTION IN PROGRESS – 3 HOURS REMAINING.
Kael leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, side still bleeding, mind still racing.
Outside, the world was dead.
But inside this room—beneath the ash and silence—something stirred.
And Kael wasn't ready to give it up.
Not yet...