The glow of the sphere bathed the chamber in a soft, pulsating light. Its energy hummed through the room, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just survived. Evan stood motionless before it, his hand resting lightly on the surface. He could feel the raw power emanating from it—a power that seemed almost alive, waiting for a command.

The others watched him in tense silence. No one spoke, each of them weighed down by the enormity of what was unfolding.

“What are we looking at here, Evan?” Claire’s voice broke the silence, firm but cautious.

Evan turned to face the group. His expression was hard to read, a mixture of exhaustion, determination, and a flicker of uncertainty. “This is the heart of the tower. The Genesis Database. It’s where everything—the experiments, the outbreak—was coordinated.”

Jake leaned against a chunk of debris, his face pale from a wound he’d sustained in the fight against the Overseer. “You’re saying this thing caused the apocalypse?”

Evan hesitated. “Not directly. But the experiments it was managing... they were the catalyst. The scientists here pushed too far. When the virus mutated, it spiraled out of control. And now, this database is the last remnant of that power.”

“Great,” Jake muttered. “So what? We smash it and call it a day?”

“It’s not that simple,” Evan replied, his voice heavy. “The system connected me to the database. It showed me... possibilities. This thing still has control over parts of the network that spread the virus. If we use it, we could stop the infection from spreading further. Maybe even reverse it in some areas.”

“That sounds... good?” Lila ventured, though her tone was uncertain.

Evan shook his head. “It’s not without risks. The system warned me: activating the database’s full potential could destabilize the tower—or worse, alert whoever or whatever built this place. And destroying it outright might unleash the virus in ways we can’t predict.”

Kara crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “So we’re stuck. Use it, and we might make things worse. Destroy it, and we might still make things worse.”

“Pretty much,” Evan admitted.

The group fell into a heated discussion, their voices echoing through the chamber. Jake was the first to speak up. “Look, I get that this thing could help, but it could also blow up in our faces. I say we destroy it and move on. The less we mess with this tech, the better.”

“That’s shortsighted,” Kara countered. “If this database really can stop the virus, we’d be stupid not to try. It’s a chance to fix what’s left of the world.”

“At what cost?” Claire interjected, her tone measured but firm. “If we activate this thing and it destabilizes, we could end up causing more destruction than we’re trying to prevent. We need to think this through.”

Lila, standing apart from the others, hesitated before speaking. “What if... what if we don’t have to choose right away? Maybe there’s a way to secure the database first. Buy us time to figure out what to do.”

“That’s not how this works,” Evan said, his voice cutting through the noise. “The system is clear. The database is unstable. The longer it remains active, the greater the risk. We have to decide now.”

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As the group argued, Evan felt the weight of their lives—and the lives of countless others—pressing down on him. The system buzzed faintly in his mind, a constant reminder of the decision looming over him.

“Host Directive Required: Stabilize or Terminate.”

Stabilize or terminate. Save or destroy. The words looped in his mind, each choice carrying its own set of risks and consequences.

His thoughts drifted to the images the system had shown him—the experiments, the suffering, the desperation of the scientists who had created the Genesis Virus. They had been trying to save humanity in their own way, even if their methods were monstrous. Could he succeed where they had failed? He clenched his fists, the memory of his friends’ sacrifices sharpening his resolve. Whatever choice he made, it had to be the one that gave them—and the world—the best chance of survival.

“I can’t make this decision alone,” Evan said, turning back to the group. “We all have a stake in this. We vote. Majority rules.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances but nodded in agreement.

“I vote to destroy it,” Jake said without hesitation. “This thing’s a ticking time bomb. We’re better off without it.”

“I vote to use it,” Kara countered. “If we don’t take this chance, we might not get another.”

Claire sighed, her expression conflicted. “I vote to destroy it. It’s too dangerous. We can’t gamble with something we don’t fully understand.”

Lila bit her lip, her eyes darting between the others. “I... I think we should try to use it. If there’s even a chance it can help, we owe it to everyone who’s still alive to try.”

All eyes turned to Evan.

“The vote’s tied,” Claire said. “It’s up to you.”

Evan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The system buzzed again, as if urging him to decide.

“Host Directive Required: Stabilize or Terminate.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze steady. “We stabilize it.”

Jake groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s the right call,” Kara said firmly. Evan ignored the bickering and stepped toward the sphere. The system’s interface flared in his mind, guiding his movements.

“Core Stabilization Protocol Initiated.”

The sphere’s glow intensified, its pulsating light filling the chamber. The hum of energy grew louder, vibrating through the floor and walls.

As Evan worked, the system provided real-time feedback, overlaying intricate diagrams and instructions in his mind. He moved quickly, adjusting circuits and rerouting energy flows within the database’s control panel. The others stood back, watching anxiously as the chamber seemed to come alive around them. The walls shifted and pulsed, their circuits glowing brighter with each passing moment.

“Evan, hurry!” Claire called out.

“I’m almost there!” he shouted back.

The final command sequence appeared in his mind, and he executed it without hesitation. The sphere emitted a blinding flash of light, and the entire chamber shook violently. For a moment, Evan thought he had failed. But then the light faded, and the hum of energy settled into a steady rhythm. The sphere’s glow stabilized, its once-flickering surface now smooth and constant.

“Core Stabilization Complete. Genesis Database Secured.”

Evan exhaled, his body sagging with relief. The system buzzed again, but this time, its tone was calm.

“Access to Genesis Database Unlocked. Host May Now Issue Directives.”

“What does that mean?” Kara asked, stepping closer.

“It means we have control,” Evan said. “We can use the database to track the spread of the virus, disrupt its network, and even develop countermeasures.”

Jake still looked skeptical. “And you’re sure this thing isn’t going to blow up in our faces?”

“No,” Evan admitted. “But it’s stable for now. That’s more than we had before.”

Claire nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Then we’d better figure out how to use it before something changes.”

Evan glanced at the sphere, the weight of his decision still heavy on his shoulders. The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, he felt like they had a real chance to make a difference.