The aftershock of the explosion still trembled through the corridor as Raymond staggered back into motion, boots skidding on metal dust. His pulse hammered. Smoke curled upward in oily tendrils, half-lit by emergency strobes.Behind the haze, the ruined remains of the mech twitched, sparking, convulsing, its neural interface scraping against the floor like a dying animal desperate for one last act of defiance.Raymond didn’t wait to see if it managed one.He moved.Lira fell into stride beside him, one arm clutched to her ribs, the other gripping her short-blade as if it were the only thing anchoring her existence. Her implants flickered unstable light through her skin.“System,” Raymond hissed beneath his breath. “Vitals check.”>>His jaw tightened.That corruption again.That whisper lodged somewhere between nerve and code.But there was no time, not now. They had only minutes before backup arrived.Ahea

The creature struck first.Not with precision, not with malice, but with desperation.Its malformed limbs dragged along the floor as it lunged at Raymond, every movement a glitching mixture of flesh and corrupted data. Neon veins flickered beneath translucent skin as if electricity and blood were fighting for dominance.Lira backed up against the wall, teeth clenched. “Ray, watch the left arm! It’s mutating!”“I see it!” Raymond snapped, sliding aside as the creature’s arm split into two jagged tendrils.The creature wailed, a sound that wasn’t a cry or roar but a system error made alive.Raymond couldn’t shake the voice echoing in his skull:Z…er…o…His stomach twisted. It wasn’t calling for a target. It was calling for help.The Prime Scalpel watched the chaos with clinical tranquility. “Prototype Six,” he said. “Engagement Protocol Delta.”The creature spasmed violently, as though invisible wires jerked it upright. Its eyes, if the flickering orbs of code could be called eyes, lock

The blast doors sealed behind Raymond with a hydraulic hiss, locking out the distant screams, alarms, and collapsing steel. The corridor before him was narrow, claustrophobic, lined with flickering red lights and the low hum of dormant machinery.This was deeper. Much deeper. Closer to the place the System kept whispering about.“Core-breach proximity… genetic resonance increasing…”He ignored the notification as best he could and forced himself to breathe. Lira limped beside him, blood running down her thigh from the mech’s earlier strike. Her breathing was shallow, strained, but her grip on her blade never wavered.“You good?” Raymond asked.She scoffed. “If I die, it won’t be because of some oversized tin can. Lead the way, doc.”He almost smiled. Almost.They pushed forward.The deeper they went, the colder the air became, so cold Raymond could see his breath mist in front of him. The walls changed too, shifting from industrial metal to something stranger: organic alloy, pulsing f

The First Scalpel rose in jagged, unnatural motions, like a corpse pulled upward by invisible strings. Sparks crawled down its ruined spine where Raymond’s blade had torn through; nanoflesh writhed, struggling to reconstruct itself but failing, glitching, twitching.Its voice broke in and out like corrupted audio.“Suc…ces…sor… Your cut… was… beautiful…”Raymond forced himself to his feet. His vision pulsed red from backlash, his heartbeat unstable, lungs burning from Redline strain.Lira crawled toward him, clutching her shoulder. “Raymond… tell me it’s dying.”He swallowed hard.“It should be.”The creature tilted its head at an impossible angle.“It cannot kill me,” it breathed. “Not alone. Not incomplete.”Raymond gripped the Neon Scalpel tighter. “Then I’ll finish the job.”The First Scalpel smiled, its jaw stretching too wide, nanoflesh tearing at the corners.“No,” it whispered. “I will finish you.”An explosion of blue-green energy erupted from the creature’s chest as a sphere

The undercity groaned as if the steel bones beneath Zenith were waking from a long, hateful dream. Raymond and Lira sprinted between fallen support beams, neon steam rising around their feet like ghosts.Raymond’s pulse hammered with two overlapping rhythms, one his own, one belonging to something far older.Behind them, alarms wailed. Drones shrieked overhead like mechanical vultures.Lira glanced back mid-run. “Ray! Three Helix drones on approach! High-altitude class—they’ll mark us for artillery!”Raymond inhaled sharply. “Then don’t stop running.”“Host exertion detected. Shall I assist?” The Core’s voice slid through his mind like a scalpel dipped in ice.“No,” he growled back.He could feel it waiting, eager, patient, hungry for more space inside him.They cut through the shattered metro concourse, past broken holographic displays. One flickered to life as they passed.HELIX PUBLIC SAFETY ALERTANOMALY CLASS RED — VISUAL IDENT CONFIRMEDSUBJECT: RAYMOND BRIGGSTHREAT LEVEL: ASCE