They come like a wall.
Fast.
Chaotic.
Precise.
The insect-drones overwhelm by sheer volume. They climb over their own bodies without slowing for even a fraction of a second. Fire burns through one layer—there's already another underneath.
I watch it and feel a flicker of fear.
"Yeah," I murmur to myself. "Classic. If clever doesn't work—just do more of it. Works more often than it should."
The map flares up in my vision.
Clear.
The archive's central nerve.
Below.
"Of course it's down there," I add. "Why make it simple? Stairs are boring. The abyss has style."
The floor trembles under impacts.
The swarm is almost at our feet. I can feel how close they are—how inevitable. A few more seconds and they tear us apart.
A second.
And in that second—everything.
Fear. Almost despair. But also a clean, sharp purpose. The mission.
Good.
That means I'm still thinking, not just reacting.
"Squad," I send through the network. "We go down."
A pause.
Half a second that costs lives.
Then—perfect execution.
Kel Irix moves first. No hesitation.
Ronan Krail locks down the sector.
Mira Vossen cuts the angles.
Jake Thorne lays down suppression.
Brin Havoc is already calculating where the floor will fail fastest.
They don't ask.
Don't уточняют.
Don't doubt.
And that…
hits harder than fear. Harder than the swarm.
Because before, they were noise. Alive. Unpredictable.
Now—they're perfect.
"Sometimes I miss your complaints," I say quietly. "It was a good product. Buggy, but it had soul."
No reaction.
I nod once.
"Yeah. Not the time for updates."
"Fire down!"
Flame.
Impulse bursts.
Impact.
The floor starts to crack. Metal bends, melts, gives way. Every shot is like a needle driven into the structure's nerves.
And it feels it.
I feel it.
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "I don't like being poked without permission either."
Behind us—the pressure builds.
Liara Vess.
Ilai Fern.
Silas Rowe.
Tarek Noll.
Holding the rear.
I feel them through the network—but not like before.
No hesitation.
No fear.
No resistance.
Only execution.
My commands.
My… silence inside them.
And somehow, that weighs more than the swarm.
"After this," I say quietly, "we're having a serious talk about free will. I may have… overdone it."
Silence.
Of course.
I took that from them myself.
The floor breaks.
With a crack.
A scream of metal.
Like the structure itself is crying out.
"Got it," I register.
A hole.
Dark.
Deep.
Bottomless.
Smoke spills downward.
The swarm is already on the debris, crawling over their own burned bodies like death is just a temporary inconvenience.
"Persistent," I say. "Respect. Really hope it's not mutual."
Kel steps forward, shielding me.
The others shift, forming a narrow, almost perfect corridor of fire.
They are literally cutting a path for me.
And I feel it.
Every second.
Every shot.
Every fraction of time they're buying—
with their lives.
I step to the edge.
Look down.
A shaft.
Deep.
Too deep.
Light doesn't reach. Sensors hiss, as if it's not space down there—but infinity.
"Of course," I murmur. "Why not jump into the abyss? Rationality is for the weak."
A pause.
The swarm is almost here.
I hear the first of them scraping against my soldiers' armor. Feel the vibration. Hear metal starting to give.
Time runs out.
And here's the problem.
I don't move.
One more thought.
Unnecessary.
Dangerous.
I look at their backs.
At the precise movements.
At perfect synchronization.
At the emptiness where life used to be.
And I understand:
they didn't choose this.
I chose for them.
"Great leader," I say quietly. "Highly recommended. Maximum control. Side effects… minimal."
A bitter smile.
I exhale.
"I'm sorry."
No one hears it.
Because I made sure they couldn't.
And that…
is honest.
I straighten.
Pull myself into a single point.
Fear.
Guilt.
Good. That means I'm still human.
Or something close enough.
"Hold position," I command calmly. "A few more seconds."
A pause.
A faint smile.
I step forward.
To the very edge.
The darkness looks up.
I look down.
"So," I breathe out softly. "Let's see if this idea has a bottom… or if it's just a lifestyle."
I freeze for a heartbeat—
and look back one last time.
**
I look at her.
Because I understand: there won't be a second time.
Liara Vess stands with her back to me, firing without pause.
Steady.
Precise.
Perfect.
Fire slices through the corridor. The swarm recoils—for a step, for a breath—and in the same instant surges back, as if it has no pain, no memory.
Neither does she.
She doesn't stop.
Until she feels me.
Through the network.
Her movement fractures for a fraction of a second.
Almost invisible.
But I see it.
The fire falters.
She turns.
Our eyes meet—
and something inside me cracks.
Not on the outside.
Inside.
Because in her eyes… there's nothing.
No fear.
No resolve.
No anger.
Not even acceptance.
Nothing.
Only execution.
As if I erased everything unnecessary.
As if I kept only what was convenient.
Did.
This.
"Perfect," I say quietly. "Absolutely perfect. Peak leadership. Highly recommended."
The smile comes out crooked.
Too alive for the moment.
Too late to matter.
For a second, I want to say something else.
Not an order.
Not an algorithm.
Not a calculation.
Something… real.
A name.
A memory.
An apology that doesn't sound like a function.
But time—
breaks faster than a thought can form.
"I'll fix this," I whisper, almost soundless. "I promise."
And in the same instant I understand:
a promise you can't keep is just a more complicated lie.
The swarm changes.
Sharp.
Immediate.
As if the system has made a decision and isn't interested in debate anymore.
They go for her.
For Liara.
Too fast.
Too precise.
Too… final.
"No—"
The word slips out before I can think it through.
Too late.
They're on her.
At once.
Like a wave.
Like a sentence that doesn't need signing.
Metal tears.
Armor fractures.
Micromachines flood the seams, the gaps, the weaknesses.
I feel it.
Through the network.
Not like a signal—
like pain.
Hers—
but almost mine.
As if they're taking me apart with her.
I clench my teeth.
Control.
"Hold on," I say.
And immediately understand how useless that is.
She doesn't scream.
Of course she doesn't.
I didn't leave her that option.
And that—
is the worst part.
Because a scream would mean there's still someone there.
They dismantle her.
Not cruelly.
Not angrily.
Functionally.
Fast.
Clean.
Efficient.
Like everything they do.
Like everything I do.
I stand at the edge.
And I count.
Seconds.
Distance.
Probabilities.
My squad stays here.
All of them.
To the last.
So I can take one step.
So I have… time.
"Beautiful plan," I murmur. "Flawless. Nobody got hurt."
A pause.
"Except everyone."
I turn.
Sharp.
"Hold position," I say calmly.
A pause.
A faint smile.
I take a step back—
and fall.
Backwards.
Into the void.
The world cuts out.
Sound vanishes like someone flipped a switch.
Only wind remains.
And me.
Weightlessness.
A strange sense of freedom—too late to be useful.
I see the opening above.
Small.
Receding.
Like a light that isn't meant for me.
"Well," I say softly. "Falling. Always wanted to try it. Overrated."
One second.
Two.
Time stretches.
But inside—
it's clear.
Sharp.
Cold.
I'm alive.
As long as I'm counting—I'm alive.
"Axiom," I tell myself, "you're the last one."
A pause.
"Try not to screw it up this time. For variety."
The map flares.
The archive.
Close.
I feel it.
Like a nerve.
Like the center of pain.
There.
Now.
I open my palm.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
As if I still have a choice.
The container forms.
Black.
Dense.
Almost alive.
An egg.
The Punisher.
I look at it—and for a second wonder—
which of us is actually the weapon.
"Well then," I say quietly. "Let's see which of us is worse."
I close my fingers.
A click.
And—
it's free.
The wave passes through me.
Not light.
Not sound.
A rupture.
A sigil break.
It cuts through the structure like a thought through doubt. Through layers. Through defenses. Through the very idea that this can't be broken.
I feel the world… lose its shape for a second.
Like someone yanks the main wire.
The archive—
hit.
Direct.
I exhale.
Short.
"Got it."
No joy.
No triumph.
Just fact.
Mission complete.
And only then—
realization.
I'm still falling.
Too fast.
Too deep.
Systems are silent.
No deceleration.
Respawn—
silence.
I check.
Again.
Deeper.
Nothing.
Blocked.
Final.
"Now that's unpleasant," I say quietly.
A pause.
"Even for me."
A second.
I count.
Habit.
Useless—but familiar.
And I understand.
This is the end.
The real one.
No rollback.
No second chance.
No "try again, but better."
I close my eyes.
And think—
about them.
Who they were.
When they could argue.
When they could get angry.
When they could… live.
When Liara could look at me—not like a command.
"I'll fix it," I whisper. "If somehow—"
The words break.
Because "somehow" doesn't exist anymore.
But control—
remains.
Even now.
Even here.
Impact.
Sharp.
Absolute.
The world collapses into a point.
Light dies.
And in the last fraction of a second—
between thought and nothing—
only one thing remains:
did I actually do it…
or did I only begin?
Darkness.
I'm gone.