Lexa stood in the heart of Shinsei's central district, her eyes darting around the strangely preserved street. Compared to the carnage Damon had left in his wake elsewhere, this area felt eerily normal—vibrant and lively, which only made the underlying tension feel more suffocating.
"Hello? Mr. Masato?" she murmured, pressing her phone tightly against her ear. She stared at the screen, watching the call timer tick up without a connection. "Come on, pick up... why aren't you answering?"
The silence on the other end was deafening. With every passing second of dead air, a cold knot of anxiety twisted tighter in her stomach. Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled the device away, staring at the signal bars as if she could force them to work through sheer willpower.
"Keep it together, Lexa..." she whispered to herself, taking a long, shaky breath to settle her racing heart. "Mr. Masato is tough. He's fine. He has to be."
She gave herself one firm nod, shoved the phone into her pocket, and forced her legs to move. Stepping forward into the heart of the district, she tried to convince herself that the silence was just a tech glitch, and not the sound of something gone horribly wrong.
Lexa scanned the crowded street, her eyes darting between faces, desperately searching for any sign of Lyss. The district was swarming with people, a sea of movement that made it impossible to check every corner or alleyway. Every time she thought she saw a familiar silhouette, it vanished back into the throng.
She had no idea that Lyss was actually only a few dozen yards away, tucked into the shadows of a storefront. Lyss pressed a finger to her earpiece, her eyes narrowed as she tracked the flow of the crowd.
"Can you read me? This is Lyss reporting in," she murmured, her voice low and steady.
A moment later, the channel crackled to life. "Lyss. We hear you loud and clear. Status report—is everything alright out there?"
Lyss took a shallow breath, her hand instinctively drifting to her opposite arm, gripping the sleeve where a dull, throbbing pain radiated through her muscle. "Yes," she lied, her face hardening into a mask of professional grit. "Safe and sound. I came out untouched."
She didn't let the wince show in her voice. "Do you have the intel on that profile yet?"
"We do," the female operator responded instantly, the sound of rapid typing audible in the background. "Target's full name is Damon Crowhurst. Official records say he died a year ago in a train derailment involving a Ghoul. But according to the deep archives we just pulled, Crowhurst never made it to a morgue. He was diverted to a private lab and held as a primary subject for Project Zero."
Lyss felt a cold chill settle in her chest as the word "experiment" echoed in her ear. "An experiment?" she whispered, her brow furrowing as she ducked deeper into the shadows of a brick alcove. "What kind of sick project were they running? Do you have anything on the specifics? What exactly were they trying to do to him?"
On the other end, the frantic clacking of the keyboard grew louder, the operator's breathing turning shallow. "The records are heavily redacted, Lyss. Most of this was buried for a reason. From what I can piece together, it involved Ghoul resonance—some kind of attempt to fuse the two biological signatures. The notes say it was a 'statistical failure.'"
The operator paused, the weight of the data clearly getting to her. "The experiment didn't just fail; it tore the subjects apart. There were dozens of people in that lab, but only three survived the initial surge. Damon was one of them. And Lyss... the project's objective wasn't just enhancement. The researchers were trying to see if they could force a human body to undergo a controlled transformation into a Hollow."
Lyss felt the blood drain from her face. "A Hollow?" she repeated, her voice barely a ghost of a whisper. She threw a quick, paranoid glance over her shoulder, making sure no one in the passing crowd was eavesdropping. "I've never heard that term. Not in training, not in the field... hell, the Institute never even breathed a word about 'Hollows' in the briefings."
"That's because nobody actually knows what they are, Lyss," the operator replied, her voice dropping to a cautious murmur. "I've scrubbed every database we have access to. There's no definition, no criteria—just that one terrifying title. But the fallout of that failure? That, I found."
The sound of a file being opened chirped in Lyss's ear. "The data says the process completely rewrote Crowhurst's biology. They stopped calling him human and started calling him 'The Molten.' It's... Lyss, it's gruesome. According to this, he doesn't have organs anymore. No bones, no heartbeat. He's been reduced to a living mass of 'Mold.' The profile warns that he can liquefy his entire physical form at will. He isn't just using a weapon—he *is* the weapon."
Lyss leaned back against the cold brick wall, the air in her lungs feeling thin. "So he's just... a walking pile of sentient sludge?" she asked, a shiver of revulsion crawling up her spine. "How are we supposed to stop something that doesn't even have a heart to hit?"
"I don't have an answer for you, Lyss. Truth is, nobody does," the operator admitted, her voice sounding small and tired over the line. "But the brass is already talking. They're saying if we can just get him into a containment unit—or even just scrape a sample of that silver gunk off the pavement—we could finally get some real answers. We'd be able to tear apart his DNA in the lab and figure out what Project Zero actually did to him."
She paused, the sound of the keyboard finally falling silent. "But until then, we're flying blind. We're chasing a ghost that can turn into a puddle whenever it feels like it. Just... be careful, okay? If he's made of that stuff, there's no telling where he starts and the environment ends."
Lyss went quiet, her hand dropping slowly to her side. A heavy, hollow pit formed in her stomach. She stared at the pavement, the operator's voice still buzzing in her ear like a persistent fly.
"Lyss? Look, I know this is way beyond the usual risk, but you're an agent for a reason. If you could just—"
"Yeah, I get it," Lyss interrupted, her voice flat. "No need to give me the pep talk. I'll get your damn sample." She looked down at her hand; it was still trembling, a rhythmic twitch she couldn't seem to suppress.
"Thank you, Lyss. I mean it. We're counting on you. I'll stay on the line and guide you through the sector, just please... watch your back."
Lyss didn't bother responding. She reached up and clicked the comms off, the silence of the alleyway rushing back in. She leaned her head against the cold brick, closing her eyes for a heartbeat.
"Just grab a piece of that demon. Easy as pie, right?" she muttered to herself, a dry, bitter laugh escaping her throat. "Way to go, Lyss. Of course you'd sign up for the suicide mission. Why do something easy when you can do something crazy?"
She pushed off the wall, zipping her jacket tight and tugging her turtleneck up to cover her chin, masking her nerves. The world seemed to go still for a moment as she centered herself, the air around her suddenly humming with static.
With one final, sharp exhale, she vanished. A flash of brilliant, light-blue energy streaked across the street, gone before anyone could blink.
A few yards away, Lexa's head snapped toward the blur. Her eyes widened, tracking the fading trail of light. "Was that... Lyss?" she whispered, her heart skipping a beat as she realized the girl was heading straight into the fire.