Andrew talked the entire way.
Not loudly, not passionately, just… steadily. A constant stream of explanation that filled the space between their footsteps as they moved deeper into the maze. He spoke about structure, patrol rotations, resource allocation, awakening rates, threat tiers—terms that meant something, Jack was sure, but none of it held his attention for long.
Jack walked beside him in silence. On the surface, he looked like he was listening. His gaze remained forward, posture steady despite the stiffness creeping into his movements, the frozen seal over his wound still holding, barely. But his mind was not with Andrew.
It was somewhere else entirely.
The screams had not stopped. Even now, as they passed through narrowing corridors and into stretches of open land broken by towering walls and scattered trees, the distant chorus lingered. Sometimes faint, sometimes sharp, but always present.
People were still dying.
Right now.
Jack's jaw tightened slightly. There was nothing he could do about it. That fact sat heavier than the wound in his side..He had spent years in command, making decisions, issuing orders, shaping outcomes even in chaos. Even when things went wrong, there was always something to be done. A move. A response. A correction.
Here?
Nothing.
No chain of command. No battlefield clarity. Just a sprawling nightmare that swallowed people whole and left them to claw for survival. And he had walked away from it. Not out of fear, but out of necessity. His eyes flicked briefly to Andrew, who was still talking, something about outer perimeter scouts now.
Jack tuned him out again.
Benji, James.
The names surfaced without invitation.
Benji, too frail for this kind of environment, even with training. Always lagging slightly behind the others, pushing himself harder than his body could handle. Not exactly loyal, mischievous even. And that is exactly what Jack liked about him.
James, disciplined. Efficient. The kind of soldier who adapted fast and did not waste movement. If anyone could survive this place alone for long, it would be him.
If.
Jack exhaled slowly through his nose.
They're alive.
Not hope. Not optimism.
A decision.
Until proven otherwise.
His thoughts shifted again.
Madison Sparc, Oliver Dunne, and Agnes Rose-Anne. The rest of his cohort. They were not here yet, but they would be soon.
A day.
Maybe two.
The Curse had already marked them. He had seen the signs before everything went dark, the same symptoms, the same pattern. They would wake up here the same way he did.
Unprepared.
Hunted.
Alone.
Jack's expression hardened slightly. That could not happen. Not to them, not under his watch. He did not fully understand this place yet, did not know the rules or the limits, but he knew one thing with absolute clarity:
By the time they arrived…
He would.
"…and that's why we don't move through the western corridors unless we've got at least a three-man unit," Andrew was saying as they turned into another passage between two colossal walls. "Too many blind angles. Too many ambush points."
Jack gave a small, noncommittal grunt.
Andrew glanced at him briefly, as if gauging whether any of this was actually sinking in.
"…You're not really listening, are you?"
Jack did not look at him.
"I heard enough."
Andrew huffed a quiet laugh.
"Yeah. You look like the type."
They walked in silence for a few minutes after that.
The environment began to change gradually, subtly at first, then more noticeably. The scattered terrain gave way to something more structured. Paths that felt… used. Grass worn down by repeated movement. Markings carved faintly into stone walls, not random, but deliberate. Indicators.
Directions.
Human presence.
Organized.
Jack noticed everything.
He did not comment on it.
Ahead, the walls opened slightly, widening into a space that felt less like a corridor and more like an entrance.
Andrew slowed.
"We're close," he said simply.
Jack's eyes narrowed just slightly as he stepped through the opening, and paused.
For the first time since arriving in the maze…
He was impressed. The Resistance headquarters wasn't a single structure.
It was a fortified zone.
The colossal maze walls themselves had been repurposed into natural barriers, forming a massive enclosed area that stretched far wider than Jack had expected. Instead of fighting against the maze's design, they had adapted to it, carving out a defensible stronghold within its constraints.
Segments of the towering stone had been reinforced with layered barricades—wood, metal scraps, even bone in some places—fused together into makeshift fortifications that looked crude at first glance but were clearly functional. Elevated platforms had been constructed along certain sections of the wall, creating vantage points where armed figures stood watch, scanning the outer maze with sharp, disciplined focus.
Inside the enclosure, the space had been transformed.
Tents and semi-permanent structures dotted the area, arranged in a loose but intentional pattern. Some were reinforced with scavenged materials, others built directly into the base of the walls themselves. Fires burned in controlled pits, casting warm, flickering light that pushed back against the ever-present dimness of the maze.
People moved everywhere.
Not in panic.
Not in chaos.
With purpose.
Groups passed by carrying supplies, bundles of materials Jack could not immediately identify. Others sat near the fires, tending to wounds, cleaning weapons, speaking in low, serious tones. Some wore armor like Andrew's, varied in design but unified in one clear fact:
They had earned it.
This was not a random gathering of survivors.
This was a system.
A functioning one.
Jack's gaze swept across the entire area, taking it in piece by piece, analyzing without effort. Defensive layout. Movement patterns. Personnel distribution. Efficiency. Not perfect, but far better than he expected.
"…Told you," Andrew said quietly beside him, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "We don't just survive."
Jack did not respond immediately.His eyes lingered on one of the elevated platforms where two armed figures stood guard, their posture alert, scanning outward with practiced precision.
"…You've built something stable," he said finally.
Andrew smirked slightly.
"Working on it."
They moved deeper into the camp. As they passed through, a few people glanced at them, some curious, some indifferent, some openly assessing Jack the same way he assessed them. New arrival. Potential asset.
Or liability.
Jack ignored the looks.
Until, he stopped. Not abruptly. Just enough for Andrew to notice.
"…What?"
Andrew asked, turning slightly.
Jack did not answer.
His gaze was fixed ahead.
A small group stood near one of the inner structures, engaged in quiet conversation. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about them. Then one of them turned. And Jack recognized the face. For a fraction of a second, nothing.
Then something shifted behind his eyes.
"…No way,"
He muttered under his breath.The man froze mid-sentence, his own gaze locking onto Jack. Recognition hit both of them at the same time.
"…Major Black?"
The words came out uncertain. Disbelieving.
Jack's expression did not change, but the tension in his posture did.
"…You're here," Jack said flatly.
The man stepped forward quickly, shock giving way to something sharper, relief, disbelief, confusion all tangled together.
"I—I thought you were still—" He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly. "No, that doesn't matter. You made it."
Jack's eyes flicked briefly to the others in the group. Two more faces. Familiar. Not close, but known. People from his world. From somewhere before.
"…Seems I'm not the only one,"
Jack said quietly.
Andrew looked between them, brow raising slightly.
"You know each other?"
Jack did not take his eyes off the group.
"…Same world," he said.
The man in front of him let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh.
"Yeah. Same world," he echoed. "Didn't expect to see you here though."
A pause.
"…Or maybe I should've."
Jack did not respond. His mind was already moving again, faster now. If they were here…
Then the timing was off.
The Curse was not bringing people in randomly. There was a pattern. And if that pattern held...
More were coming.
Soon.
His gaze shifted briefly upward, toward the dim, endless "sky" of the maze.
Madison.
Oliver.
Rose-Anne.
They were next, he could feel it. Andrew crossed his arms lightly, looking between them with growing interest.
"Well," he said after a moment, "this just made things easier."
Jack finally looked at him.
"…How so?"
Andrew's smile returned, small, but deliberate.
"Because now you're not just some new guy I picked up from the lake."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"You're someone with connections."
A beat.
"In here?"
He gestured subtly around the camp.
"That matters."
Jack held his gaze for a second longer.
Then he looked away.
Connections.
Allies.
Resources.
Tools.
His mind categorized everything instinctively. This place was not just a refuge, it was an opportunity. And Jack had just stepped into the center of it. Somewhere beyond the walls, the maze continued to claim lives.
Somewhere out there, Benji and James were still fighting.
And somewhere not far behind, the next wave was coming.
Jack exhaled slowly.
The game had changed.
Now, he was ready to play.