"What was that?" asked Luke.

His breath was quick, his eyes searching the darkness with apprehension.

The atmosphere was tense, the silence of the unknown echoing around them, making the shadows in the dank hallway seem even darker.

Atlan glanced up, his ears alert to every sound.

His weapon pointed in the direction of the terrifying scream they had just heard.

"They must've activated a trap," he simply stated. "Let's move on," he added, pointing his weapon forward again and starting to walk.

"That scream, it wasn't one of them. It wasn't human," Luke noted, looking at Atlan's retreating back. Atlan sighed and paused again.

"All traps aren't bombs. We don't know what he has at his disposal, but he could have scavenged leftovers from abandoned experiments," Atlan explained, his weapon now lowered.

It was a subtle shake, but Luke noticed Atlan's trembling grip on his weapon.

He was trying his best to appear calm.

Luke thought about suggesting they assist the other team, but he knew Atlan's response already.

"They split us into two teams so we don't all fall into the same trap. Going against orders to help them would be foolish, and most likely sabotaging the mission." Luke thought to himself.

They shared a momentary glance, feeling a common relief.

They had a good reason not to head towards the chilling screams.

But their relief was short-lived. A powerful explosion echoed in the distance, making the walls around them shake.

The blast wave from the left corridor carried dust and a smell of burnt flesh towards them.

The scent sent chills down Luke's spine.

"We need to move," Atlan declared. The sweat on his forehead and his erratic breathing showed that the explosion affected him more than the scream they heard earlier.

They resumed their path, their lamps illuminating the broad, empty corridor.

Occasionally, a door would appear in their light path, on either side of the corridor.

But Atlan never entered these rooms, his gaze remained fixed ahead.

The light from his lamp lit up the loose tiles that made up the floor, revealing the underlying cement.

The bracelet on Atlan's wrist hadn't yet signaled anything abnormal, which worried him.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Similarly, Luke didn't like the calm that surrounded them.

"The other team has already triggered a trap, maybe even several. But we haven't seen anything. Is it because we're on the wrong path and he hasn't rigged this place, or is it to catch us by surprise later?" Luke wondered.

The eerie silence allowed his thoughts to run wild, imagining various scenarios where he died in excruciating pain.

This deceptive tranquillity was starting to get unbearable, only disrupted when Atlan threw a blue light stick on the ground or when his boots cracked a tile.

Luke decided once again to break this harmful silence.

"Hey, Atlan," he whispered softly.

"What now?" Atlan responded, irritated.

"Selim... I mean, the captain. He's level 2, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"And level 2s are stronger than level 3s, right?" Luke kept asking.

Atlan sighed, not responding.

"So, if he's so strong, why doesn't he take care of the target himself? Why risk his men's lives?"

Atlan shrugged, scanning the corridor with his flashlight.

"Fear is making you chatty," Atlan retorted.

"I'm bored, actually," Luke replied.

"Alright, let's see," Atlan began, turning on one of the glow sticks from his pocket. "First, he's the boss, you don't send the boss headfirst into a risky mission. Second, he can't just do what he wants."

Atlan tossed the blue stick on the floor and continued.

"I told you before, we're all hostages of the lab, including him. He can't put himself in unnecessary danger. Level 2s are rare and very valuable, they fight only under direct orders from the Laboratory they're affiliated with. In the captain's case, it's the North lab."

Luke listened and followed Atlan, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

He pondered the implications of Atlan's explanations.

"Okay, but if he puts himself in danger, what's at stake? They won't execute such a valuable asset, and even before that, who would the lab send to stop him if he rebels?" Luke asked, trying to understand what would make a strong man submit.

Atlan was amused by these questions and let out a soft laugh.

"You have no idea what tools the Laboratories have. There are units specifically designed to capture level 2s. They're the cream of the crop, hand-picked from different units. And even before that..." Atlan stopped, hesitated, then continued.

"Okay, keep this to yourself... well, keep everything I've said to yourself... But I've heard that Selim's personal guard, you know, the guys who are better equipped than everyone else and look tough, they're there to protect him but also to neutralize him if there are any issues."

He started to whisper even softer, as if to prevent his voice from echoing in the empty corridor.

As if the walls had ears.

After all, they were built by the lab, who knows what secrets they might hold.

Atlan had a strange belief: he thought objects had an abstract, archaic consciousness. The nature of their consciousness depended on the reason for their creation.

In the case of the lab walls, they were built to keep the secret of the experiments taking place inside.

This same consciousness today drove them to absorb new secrets, like hungry monsters.

It was their reason for being and they would do anything not to cease to exist.

Maybe Atlan was overly superstitious, maybe stress was making him hallucinate, but the deeper he went into this endless corridor, the more alive, haunted the bunker seemed.

The walls seemed to move, the floor tiles too, and the closed doors, they were calling him.

He couldn't remember the end of his conversation with Luke.

And where was Luke, anyway? Suddenly, he heard his voice, growing more and more distant.

"... At... Atlan... ATLAN!!! WATCH OUT!!!" the voice shouted.

And then a sound, growing louder.

A bracelet... The bracelet he wore, it was beeping at a low frequency.

A barely audible, persistent beep.

Numbers in red.

"Damn," he said, unusually calm.

And then, an explosion.