The sky was gray with smoke and the smell of oil. The remains of Inferius Bloodhawk lay broken across a decaying plain — its engines half-buried in the swamp, its metallic wings jutting out like fractured bones. A low wind passed through the skeletal ruins of an old city nearby, hollow towers whispering echoes of the past.
Netoshka stood on the shattered hull, arms crossed, her hair whipping across her face as the others gathered below. The smoke stung their eyes, the silence pressing harder than any gunfire. Taran kicked a loose piece of metal into the mud.
"So… this is what's left huh," he muttered.
"Could've been worse," Raine grunted, cracking his knuckles.
"Could've been at the bottom of that swamp."
Ron was already surveying the wreckage with Battery at his side, both surrounded by flickering control panels salvaged from the airship. Sparks crackled as he tore a wire from the remains of the Bloodhawk's console.
"This bird's finished," he said.
"Engines are scrap, flight core's melted. We'll need to move on foot."
Genrihk's shadow loomed tall behind him, the necromancer's glowing sigils flickering faintly under his mask.
"On foot, then i guess. The radar ping is close. Echo Point lies east, beneath the ruins."
Netoshka nodded slowly. Her gaze shifted to the radar device on her wrist — the faint signal pulsed in rhythmic intervals, drawing them toward Delta City. It was faint but steady, buried beneath the earth. The last known transmission of Dr. Lucretia.
They didn't have time to rest.
The group assembled near a collapsed overpass, a massive gap of earth and debris between them and their objective. The ruins of the city loomed in the distance — skyscrapers swallowed by vines and concrete dust.
Netoshka gave one final order as she looked over her exhausted squad.
"Alright. We're splitting up here."
She turned to the first group.
"Team A — Ron, Battery, Serah, Raine, Alev, Ginny, SP3CTR, Renzo."
"You guys take the forest route. Make for Delta City ASAP. Keep radio contact minimal — conserve power. If you see movement, assume hostile."
Ron nodded firmly, slinging his toolkit over his shoulder.
"Got it, boss. Don't die down there."
"Yeah," Netoshka replied flatly. "You too."
Then she faced the others — the ones who would follow her underground.
"Team B — Taran, Zopi, Twila, Genrihk, Circe, Zev, Surgien, and Rue."
"You're with me. We're taking the tunnels."
Zopi adjusted her sniper rifle, glancing toward the gaping dark of the metro entrance ahead. "You sure about that? Those tunnels look like a graveyard."
"Everything's a graveyard," Netoshka murmured. "But that's where the signal leads."
They reached the metro's sealed gate — a massive slab of twisted metal and collapsed rubble blocking their path. The tunnel yawned beyond it, reeking of mold and something older.
Surgien kicked at the debris and sighed.
"Well, that's one hell of a blockade. What now?"
"Explosives," Netoshka said simply.
"Explosives?" Rue blinked, her dreary eyes reflecting faint light.
"Ginny's not here. We don't have her toys."
Netoshka smirked faintly, gesturing at Taran and Zev.
"We still have grenades. Set the charges."
Taran grunted, pulling a satchel from his belt.
"Copy that."
Within minutes, they rigged a makeshift detonation line. Everyone backed away behind cover as Taran flicked the trigger. The explosion shattered the silence, sending dust and echoes through the city ruins.
When the smoke cleared, the path stood open — a black maw leading into the depths.
They descended one by one, flashlights cutting through the murk. The air grew damp and heavy with decay. Rats scurried between the rusted rails, and the distant drip of water echoed endlessly.
Abandoned trains sat rotting on the tracks, windows shattered, their interiors filled with filth and bones. Twila stepped lightly between puddles, her doppelganger reflection flickering faintly beside her in the glow.
"This place…" she whispered. "It feels… wrong."
"It's just a tunnel," Zev muttered, though his hand rested near his weapon.
"We've seen worse."
"Maybe," Genrihk murmured. "But this one breathes of death and decay."
They reached an old station platform. The faded sign read "Sector 09 — East Meridian Line."
Panels flickered weakly in the control room ahead, buzzing faintly with dying power.
Netoshka motioned them forward.
"We'll set up here. Check for any working terminals — we might get a layout of the tunnel network."
Rue crouched beside a broken console, brushing away cobwebs.
"Most of it's fried. But some of the data drives are intact."
"Good. Salvage what you can."
As the others began their work, Netoshka stood at the edge of the platform, staring down the long, dark corridor that stretched into infinity. Her flashlight beam disappeared into the void.
She thought she heard something.
A faint whisper.
A voice she hadn't heard in years.
" — Netoshka… 3 … 4 … 5 … 7 … 3 …You 13 … 24 … 15 … Awaken..."
Her pupils dilated. The numbers carved themselves into her mind like a command she couldn't disobey. The whispers turned into distorted symbols — ancient sigils burning behind her eyes. She clutched her head, stumbling forward.
"Netoshka?" Cirke's voice broke through, soft and distant. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she lied, straightening. "Just… keep moving."
But the whispers didn't stop.
The deeper they went, the more alive the tunnel felt — walls breathing, shadows twitching, something vast lurking beneath the rust and darkness.
And though Netoshka led with calm precision, her mind was fraying. The echoes of the numbers never ceased. The tunnels were watching them.