The maintenance passage didn't welcome him. It tolerated him.
Blaine moved through the narrow corridor with the pipe in one hand and the map stone dim in the other. The walls here were rough—not polished like the main corridor, but hacked into shape by tools that had been in a hurry. The red veins that pulsed through the Artery's main passage were thinner here, weaker, struggling to push light through stone that hadn't been maintained in centuries.
The Architects built this for their servants. Their workers. The ones who didn't need to see the grand entrance. Who cleaned up the experiments and disposed of the failures.
The air grew warmer as he descended. Not the warmth of the Zone or the bloodline—something organic. Something breathing. The glowstones in this section were dead, but the walls themselves emitted a faint, fungal light. Blue. Sickly. It clung to the stone like sweat.
The bloodline pulsed. Alert. Not warning. Focused.
Something's alive down here. Multiple somethings.
The corridor split into three branches. The map stone was unreadable this deep, its warmth a dull ember that gave no direction. Kellan's map ended at the entrance to the Artery. Everything below was uncharted. Blaine stopped at the junction and closed his eyes. The bloodline pulsed again, stronger toward the left passage.
Trust it. Go left.
He moved. The fungal light intensified as the passage narrowed. The warmth in the air became heat. The organic smell thickened into rot.
Then the first one came.
A shape detached from the wall—smooth, wet, the same blue fungal light pulsing through its translucent skin. It was humanoid in the way a melted candle was humanoid. Its limbs were elongated, its fingers fused into razored points. It didn't have eyes. It didn't need them. It dropped from the ceiling directly onto Blaine's back.
"—!"
He rolled. The creature's claws raked across his shoulder. Shallow. He came up swinging. The pipe connected with its skull. The impact was wet. Soft. The creature's head deformed but didn't break. It lunged again.
Not armored. Amorphous. Blunt force doesn't work.
He dodged the lunge and drove the pipe into its chest. The metal sank deep. The creature convulsed and collapsed. Not dead—dissolving. Its body liquefied into a pool of blue light that seeped into the stone.
[Servant Construct — Devolved]
[Strength +1]
[Strength: 53]
Minimal gain. Not a guardian. A remnant. Something the Architects left behind and forgot.
More shapes detached from the walls. Three. Four. The corridor ahead was alive with that same fungal glow, moving, pulsing, waking up.
Blaine exhaled. The bloodline stirred. Ready.
Don't stop. Don't get surrounded. Use the narrow walls as choke points.
He moved. Fast.
The first creature lunged from the left. He sidestepped and drove the pipe through its torso. It dissolved. The second came from above. He ducked, felt claws graze his scalp, and stabbed upward. It collapsed. The third and fourth came together. He kicked one back and crushed the other against the wall with a single thrust. The pipe broke through its chest and hit stone behind it. The creature dissolved. The one he'd kicked scrambled up and lunged again. He caught its throat with his free hand and squeezed. It thrashed. He squeezed harder. It dissolved.
Silence.
[Strength +3]
[Strength: 56]
The corridor was empty again. The fungal light still pulsed. More shapes stirred deeper down the passage, but they didn't approach. Watching. Waiting. Learning.
They're not mindless. They're adapted. They only attack when they think they can win.
He wiped the pipe clean and continued. The passage curved sharply downward, then opened into a wider chamber. Not carved—grown. The walls here were organic, pulsing with the same blue light, lined with what looked like cocoons. Dozens of them. Some were open. Most were occupied.
At the center of the chamber, a larger creature waited. Not humanoid. Quadrupedal. The size of the tank beast from Sector 9, but built from the same fungal matter as the servants. Its body was a mass of translucent flesh and exposed bone. Its head was featureless—no eyes, no mouth, just a single vertical groove that glowed with a light that wasn't blue.
Red. Architect red. This one was built, not devolved.
The system flickered.
[Guardian Construct — Advanced]
[Threat Level: High]
[Strength: 61]
Five points above me. Built to guard. Probably the overseer. Kill it and the servants stop attacking.
The creature didn't charge. It watched. The vertical groove on its head pulsed with that red light. The same scanning frequency as the guardian at the door. Then it spoke. Not words. A tone. Low. Resonant. The bloodline answered without Blaine's command—a pulse of warmth against his ribs. Recognition. Challenge.
It knows what I carry. It was built to test it.
The creature lunged.
Blaine dove. The impact cratered the floor where he'd stood. He rolled to his feet, the pipe ready. The creature turned—faster than the tank beast, faster than anything its size should move—and swung a clawed limb at his head. He ducked. The limb crushed a cocoon instead, spilling blue fluid across the floor. The servants watching from the walls chittered and retreated further into the shadows.
Weak points. The joints. The groove on its head. Same design as the humanoid guardian. Bigger. Faster. Same rules.
He circled. The creature tracked him with that featureless head. The red groove pulsed. Scanning. Predicting. Then it lunged again. Blaine ran toward it—not away. At the last moment, he dropped and slid. The creature's momentum carried it over him. He thrust the pipe upward into its belly.
The metal hit something solid. The creature roared—a vibration more than a sound—and twisted. The pipe was wrenched from his grip. He scrambled back. The creature turned, the pipe still embedded in its underside, and charged.
Disarmed. Not dead. Improvise.
He grabbed a chunk of broken stone from the cratered floor. The creature's charge was sloppy now—the pipe was doing damage with every movement, tearing flesh, spilling blue and red light. He waited until it was close. Then he threw the stone at its head. It flinched. Just for a moment. He used that moment to close the distance, grab the embedded pipe with both hands, and rip it sideways.
The creature screamed. The red light in its head groove flared and died. It collapsed.
[Guardian Construct — Advanced — Neutralized]
[Strength +5]
[Strength: 61]
Even. And the servants are retreating.
He pulled the pipe from the dissolving corpse. The chamber's blue light was dimming. The cocoons were cracking, spilling their contents—not new creatures, but fluid. The whole passage was destabilizing.
The overseer was linked to the chamber. Kill it, kill the nest. Logical. Efficient. The Architects built their guard systems well.
He found the exit on the far side of the chamber—another narrow passage, sloping downward. The map stone was fully dead now. The bloodline was his only guide. It pulsed toward the passage. Warm. Ready.
The laboratory is close.
He descended.