Eternity Decay

THE LOGIC OF A SOCIOPATH

The only constant in the Lower District was the suffocating, pitch-black darkness. Axel stood within a narrow corridor outside an abandoned logistics barracks, checking the ammunition magazine of a backup tactical pistol he had concealed behind a subterranean wall panel. 29 Days, 18 Hours, 05 Minutes.

His time continued to erode. Every lost second was another footstep toward the grave. Axel chambered the weapon with a single, clean jerk, then stowed it beneath the heavy folds of his long black tactical frock coat.

Suddenly, the flickering neon lights along the entire Lower District corridor died in unison. An unnatural, sudden silence gripped the air. The sharp stench of burnt ozone followed, a telltale sign that an electromagnetic circuit breaker had just been tripped from the Upper Control Center.

Axel instantly dropped his posture, pressing himself flat against the concrete wall. His instincts as the former number-one Liquidator screamed in warning. They were already here.

From the direction of Rhea’s clinic, just twenty meters down the corridor, a sudden commotion broke out. Axel moved like a ghost, his boots making no sound against the damp floor.

Peering from behind a rusted iron pillar, he spotted three men in bulletproof polymer combat suits bearing the Eternity Corp insignia inside the clinic. Rhea was cornered against her workbench, her hands raised in the air, while Angga knelt on the floor, his entire body trembling so violently that he had pissed himself in sheer terror.

“Where is the AXEL-01 sample?” one of the raiders demanded, his voice distorted through a tactical respirator mask. “CEO Vince does not like to wait.”

“I-I don’t know! I’m just a low-level bank manager! Please, don’t extract my lifespan!” Angga wailed, completely stripped of the "heroic" dignity he had bragged about just hours prior.

The lead raider grunted in disgust, aiming the muzzle of his Life Reaper Gun at Angga’s head. But before he could pull the trigger, the holographic communicator on the raider's chest flashed automatically. A projection of blue light flared, forming the silhouette of a middle aged man Axel knew all too well.

Adrian Vince.

“Stand down,” Adrian commanded through the projection. His heavy, authoritative voice echoed within the cramped clinic.

Hearing that voice, Axel stepped out from the shadows of the corridor, entering the clinic with his hand still hidden beneath his black tactical frock coat. The elite squad instantly pivoted their rifles, locking their sights onto Axel’s chest.

“Are you looking for this?” Axel raised his left hand, flashing the silver necklace with the lily emblem that he had plundered from Valen.

Adrian’s holographic projection turned, staring directly at Axel. A faint, razor-thin smile etched across the sociopath's face.

“You’re still alive, Axel. The emergency encryption script you uploaded into the Lower District's bank system was rather impressive. It proves you are indeed the best hound I ever trained,” Adrian said, his tone flat and indifferent, as though discussing warehouse inventory rather than the flesh-and-blood son he had left to die.

Rhea froze in place. Her eyes widened as she stared at Axel, then darted to the encryption console on her desk. Adrian's words shattered her reality like a sledgehammer. Axel's emergency encryption script? So the one who had breached the vault and injected the lifespan wasn't Angga at all? Rhea cast a venomous glance at Angga, who was still weeping on the floor, realizing just how foolish she had been to believe the fraud's lies.

“You sent your squad just to retrieve a necklace, Father?” Axel asked, his voice deathly calm, though a murderous glint flashed in his eyes.

“That necklace is garbage, just like your mother. I sent them to give you an offer,” Adrian replied. “Valen cannot stabilize the core code of the new lifespan distribution system. The system will suffer a massive malfunction within twenty-five days. Return to the tower, fix the code, and I will credit fifty years to your wrist.”

Axel glanced down at the green digits on his wrist. Twenty-nine days left. His father knew he was dying, and he was intentionally weaponizing Axel’s remaining days as a bargaining chip.

“And if I refuse?”

Adrian let out a short, theatrical sigh of disappointment. “If you refuse, within seven days, I will order a total purge of the Lower Sub-Sector. I will extract every single second from the woman next to you, along with every other rat living in the mud with you. You know I never bluff, Axel.”

Axel’s inner monologue churned with fury. The disgust he had suppressed for years finally boiled over. The man standing before him was the one who provided the blood in his veins, the one who let his mother suffocate to death when her clock ran out, and now treated the lives of the entire Lower District like mere figures on an accounting ledger.

“There is one thing you forgot about the way you trained me, Adrian,” Axel said, dropping the title of 'Father' entirely.

“And what is that?”

“You taught me how to execute a target, but you forgot to teach me how to surrender.”

The instant the final word left his lips, Axel’s right hand blurred from beneath his black tactical frock coat.

BANG! BANG!

Two precise, unhesitating shots pierced the neck seals of the two elite guards on his flanks before they could even twitch their triggers. Fresh blood sprayed, splattering across Axel’s black coat. Axel rolled behind the iron examination table, narrowly evading a hail of bullets from the third assailant.

With one fluid, highly efficient motion, Axel kicked a nearby cylinder of pressurized soldering gas toward the remaining gunman, then shot the tank.

BOOM!

A localized, high-pressure explosion hurled the third raider against the concrete wall, knocking him unconscious. The entire tactical engagement was over in less than seven seconds. Clean, lethal, and calculated with mathematical precision.

Adrian’s holographic projection flickered violently from the shockwave, yet his expression remained unchanged. He looked down at his three fallen soldiers with an air of profound boredom.

“Seven days, Axel. Your digital watch has already begun the countdown for the people you care about,” Adrian said coldly, before the hologram shut off entirely, dissolving into the darkness.

Axel stood tall amidst the smoking ruins of the clinic, ignoring the rising haze. He gave his blood-spattered tactical frock coat a sharp snap, then looked at Rhea, who remained paralyzed, staring at him with a volatile mix of guilt, disbelief, and sheer horror.

The information gap had shattered completely.