⚡ **NEON REQUIEM — Chapter 7:
"THE SIGNAL IN THE DARK"*
The deeper we move into the undercity, the more reality feels like it's slipping.
Not disappearing—just bending.
Like the world is trying to remember something it forgot centuries ago.
Maybe that makes two of us.
Lyra's boots splash through ankle-deep puddles of coolant as she follows the map projected from her wrist device. Lines of blue and violet light twist on the holographic display, shaping into a pulsating spiral.
"The signal is changing," she mutters. "It's… reacting to you."
"Reacting how?" I ask.
"It's aligning. Locking onto your bio-signature."
She doesn't say the other part, but I hear it anyway:
The second node knows I'm coming.
A faint hum vibrates against my ribs. My blade, still sheathed, pulses with the same rhythm, like it's syncing with something buried ahead. A heart buried in the machinery.
We pass a collapsed support beam and duck into a narrow corridor where pipes leak clouds of shimmering vapor. The metallic fog swirls around me, bending toward my shoulders, like static pulled to a magnet.
Lyra shivers. "These tunnels were sealed after the Reset Riots. No one's been down here in—"
She stops.
Because we both hear it.
Whispers.
Light ones. Soft.
Like the sound of memories breathing.
I grip the hilt of my blade, but I don't ignite it yet. The blue glow would give us away.
"Voices," I say quietly.
"No," Lyra whispers. "Echoes."
She taps her device. A spectrum scan spreads across the tunnel, revealing faint holographic distortions—shapes trapped in flickering motion, like ghosts trapped between frames of an old video.
They're people.
Dozens of them.
Holograms of civilians running, falling, clutching their heads—
All silent.
All endlessly looping.
"What… what is this?" I whisper.
Lyra swallows. "Memory residue. From the riots. When the Council purged the district… they erased everything they couldn't control."
"And the people?"
"They digitized them."
The images glitch, their forms bending and dissolving into static light.
A knot tightens in my chest.
This city doesn't just destroy.
It hides what it destroys.
Plasters neon over the bones.
One of the holograms—an old man—turns mid-loop. His eyes glitch, flickering white. For a moment, they line up with mine.
And he speaks.
Not aloud.
Not even through sound.
A whisper inside my mind:
"Requiem will awaken the forgotten."
My breath freezes.
Because the voice isn't his.
It's the same voice from the first node.
My mother.
Lyra grabs my arm. "Kael? What happened?"
I open my mouth—
But something shifts in the air.
A tremor.
Subtle at first—then violent.
The ground beneath us shudders.
"Run," Lyra says sharply.
I don't argue.
Chunks of ceiling break loose behind us as we sprint through the tunnel. Lights explode in showers of sparks. The holograms distort, then vanish entirely as power lines rupture overhead.
We burst out into a wide chamber—the remains of an old mag-rail station swallowed by metal roots and overgrown neon vines.
Then everything goes quiet.
Too quiet.
Lyra raises her pistols. "Something forced the echo data offline. That means—"
A low hum vibrates through the chamber.
The temperature drops.
My blade pulses hard enough to burn against my hip.
Lyra's eyes widen. "Kael. Behind you."
I spin.
And the cold crawls up my spine.
A Spectre.
But not like the ones from the streets.
This one is bigger.
Sleeker.
Faster.
Its frame glows with the same electric blue as my blade—
but twisted. Artificial.
A corrupted reflection.
Its head tilts with a sharp mechanical twitch.
"Target: Requiem Unit Zero."
Lyra's breath catches. "Unit ZERO? Kael… that's—"
But I already know.
Zero.
The prototype.
The first attempt.
Me.
Before I can move, the Spectre lunges.
The speed—
Impossible.
I barely ignite my blade in time. Sparks explode as metal meets neon light. The impact sends a shockwave through the station, rattling broken rails.
Lyra fires, but the bullets bend mid-air as if the Spectre warps the air around itself.
"What the— Lyra MOVE!" I shout.
It dives toward her—
I intercept—
Our blades lock in a blinding flash.
It speaks again, voice glitching:
"Requiem protocol: return to origin."
"Not happening," I growl.
The Spectre's arm spins, transforming into a chain-blade dripping with pixelated static. It comes down fast.
I block.
Barely.
The shock sends me to one knee.
My vision blurs as flashes of memory punch through:
—A lab.
—White coats.
—Pain.
—A girl's scream.
—A number carved on a glass tank: 00.
My lungs seize.
The Spectre slams its fist into my chest and sends me flying into a rusted pillar. The impact rattles through my bones.
Lyra screams my name—
then empties both magazines into the machine's face.
No effect.
It grabs her by the throat.
Something inside me snaps.
My blade erupts—brighter than ever—flooding the whole chamber in electric blue.
The Spectre turns, analyzing the surge.
I move before it speaks.
Speed.
Pure instinct.
Or maybe memory.
I slash upward—
cutting straight through its arm.
Static bursts into the air like neon blood.
Lyra drops to the floor, gasping.
The Spectre recoils, recalibrating.
But I don't let it.
I spin, slicing clean across its core—
A single arc of blue light.
The Spectre freezes.
Its voice stutters—
"Re… quiem… un… un… st…"
Then collapses, sparks scattering across the ground.
The chamber goes still.
Lyra coughs, clutching her neck. "Kael… you—you just—"
"I don't know how." My voice shakes. "I just knew what it would do before it moved."
She looks at me like she's seeing something new.
Something frightening.
Something powerful.
"Your memories…" she whispers. "They're not just returning. They're fighting with you."
I look down at my blade.
The glow is steady now.
Stronger.
Like it's awake.
Lyra swallows. "Kael… the Council didn't just create you."
I meet her eyes.
"They feared you."
A chill crawls through my chest.
But before I can speak, her device vibrates violently.
"Kael…"
Her voice goes thin.
"The second node… it's not far."
I take a slow breath.
Because I know—
whatever waits inside that node
will not just reveal my past.
It will decide my future.