Carina gripped the iron handle of the hatch embedded in the cracked concrete ground. She pulled it open. The hinges groaned, echoing around the tunnel.
Beneath was a stairwell descending into shadow.
A rush of warm, oily air hit them, carrying the scent of burning coal and metallic grease.
She descended first, her boots clanging on the iron stairs, and Ezra followed close behind. As they moved deeper, faint light spilled upward, flickering like an old projector, illuminating the sharp lines of Ezra’s face.
The deeper they went, the more oppressive the heat and noise became. A low thrum shook the air like a giant’s heartbeat.
When they finally stepped into the room, Ezra froze mid-step, his hand tightening on the railing. The space stretched before them, impossibly vast, like a mechanical cathedral carved from the earth itself. Massive steel beams arched overhead, vanishing into the dim haze of steam and soot. The pounding whoosh-clang of pistons filled the air, drowning out all but the loudest shouts from the workers below.
On the ground, a sprawling network of machines were alive. Boilers lined the walls, their riveted iron bodies glowing faintly red from the intense heat within. Coal-fed furnaces spewed waves of heat that shimmered through the air. Belts spun and snapped across pulleys, their constant motion driving the heavy machinery—grinders reducing stone to dust, generators buzzing faintly with electricity, and conveyor belts clattering with minecarts overflowing with coal.
Workers swarmed like ants, their soot-streaked faces illuminated by the hellish glow of the boilers. Some wielded long iron shovels, thrusting them into the fiery maws of the furnaces, while others tossed buckets of water over their comrades, steam hissing and curling into the air like ghostly tendrils. The pistons of a four-cylinder, triple-expansion steam engine pumped furiously, each movement sending tremors through the ground. Beside it, a man hunched over a pressure gauge, his gloved hand turning a rusted valve in quick, practiced movements.
Above, three cranes loomed, their spindly arms stretching into the shadows like giant skeletal fingers. They swung slowly but with precision, each carrying a massive 800mm shell.
The cranes lowered their burdens to high platforms where loaders scrambled to perform the finishing touches.
The scale of it all made Ezra’s chest tighten. The machinery, the heat, the noise—it felt alive, as though the entire room were a single enormous organism, breathing, groaning, and pulsing with energy. He gripped the railing tighter, his jaw slack as he struggled to take it all in.
Carina’s boots thudded against the grated floor as she reached the bottom.
The workers nearest the entrance paused mid-motion. Recognition flashed in their eyes, and within seconds, cheers erupted. Men and women dropped their tools and sprinted toward her, fists raised high in a salute.
The roar of the room swelled further, but Carina stood unfazed, her presence was commanding. For a moment, Ezra tore his gaze from the machines to look at her, wondering how one person could stride so confidently in the belly of such an overwhelming beast.
“Commander made it safely!”
One of the workers exclaimed, his voice cutting through the hum of the engines.
The others echoed his shout, their cheers rippling through the room like a wave.
Soot-streaked faces turned toward Carina, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of relief and admiration.
Carina raised her hand to quiet them as she approached the metal fence separating the entryway from the main work area.
Her voice was steady, commanding.
“You did the right thing activating the traps. Did the sensors detect anything else after that?”
One worker, a younger man with a grease-smeared face, stepped forward, clearly nervous.
“We detected something. Just one... but it destroyed all the traps we set.”
Carina stiffened, her hand gripping the fence.
“The Architect.”
She muttered under her breath, her gaze snapping upward toward the steel-plated ceiling.
Her expression hardened as she thought. A long moment passed, the noise in the room fading into a heavy silence.
Then she straightened.
“We’re abandoning this place.”
She announced firmly.
The silence grew oppressive. Faces froze in disbelief.
“What?!”
One of the workers blurted, his voice rising.
“But the weapons—we’ve worked so hard to—”
“I don’t need them anymore,”
Carina interrupted, her tone sharp enough to cut.
“We can’t let the enemy find our formula. If they do, we lose everything!”
Ezra, who had been descending the stairs, finally reached the ground.
“What formula?”
She turned to him, her expression unreadable.
“Ezra, birth won’t happen here. Not the way it’s supposed to. The laws of biology might apply in this world, but the laws of nature do not grant life. Not anymore.”
“What?”
Ezra’s brows knit in confusion, but before he could ask more, a slow, deliberate clap echoed from the shadows.
“Well said, Carina.”
A figure emerged from the dim light—a tall man with a beard covering much of his face and a mop of long hair tucked beneath a sideways cap.
His oil-stained shirt and rough hands spoke of someone more comfortable with machines than conversation, yet his presence radiated authority.
Carina’s eyes lit up with recognition.
“Two years and six months,”
She said, offering her hand.
“You still look sharp, Pungkas.”
He clasped her hand firmly, a wry grin tugging at his lips.
“And you’re still quick with numbers. Took me a while to track you down, but it seems you called me first.”
Carina nodded, a hint of a smile softening her features.
“I’ve heard you’ve been keeping busy.”
“Busy? That’s putting it lightly.”
Pungkas replied, shaking his head with a chuckle.
“Spent the last eight months designing every damn thing my brain could handle. Looks like we’re about to see if it’s worth anything.”
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Carina turned serious again.
“We’ve given life to objects. We had to access the world's text editor, insert a new variable, and force it into reality.”
Pungkas barked a laugh.
“Ah, I still remember that hack. Brilliant, reckless, and utterly insane. Just like you.”
His grin faded.
“Heard that you guys were after the compass.”
“Yeah. Do you have any idea where it is right now?”
“Another 2000 feet below the ground. The elevator will carry the big guns, then the guns will punch through the boulder before we get into it.”
Pungkas answered.
“Alright, let's demolish everything.”
The words hung in the air, heavy as stone. For a moment, all anyone could hear was the distant hum of machinery and the faint whistling of the wind sneaking through the cracks of the massive steel doors.
A murmur finally rose, hesitant and fragmented, rippling through the crowd like a low tide.
“But sir!”
One shouted, his voice cracking as he stepped forward. A thin man with grease-streaked overalls and trembling hands, his name escaped Pungkas at that moment.
“Isn’t there another way? We’ve spent years building this place. We can’t just… destroy it!”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, stronger now, like a wave gathering momentum. Faces turned to Pungkas, desperate for reassurance.
“Haven’t you heard?”
He let the words drop, heavy and deliberate. The murmuring ceased. Even the thin man shrank back a step, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Pungkas’s glare.
“The enemy is already on their way. If they get their hands on our files—on everything we’ve built—it’s over. This isn’t about saving the weapons or this facility. This is about saving the legacy we’ve poured our blood, sweat, and tears into. Do you think they’ll spare us once they’ve taken what they want?”
The room was still now, save for the faint buzzing of a flickering overhead light.
Pungkas drew in a breath, his voice rising, more forceful now.
“So tell me... how would you rather die?”
He took another step forward, his boots echoing in the cavernous space.
“Sitting idle, cowering in the face of the enemy?” His eyes burned as they swept the room. “Or fighting for the future?”
He let the silence that followed drag out. A few workers shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between each other, searching for someone willing to argue. None came. Slowly, the fear in their faces began to shift—hesitation giving way to grim determination.
The room fell silent. Then, one by one, the workers nodded, their hesitation giving way to grim determination.
“Yessir!”
They shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the cavernous space.
Pungkas nodded, satisfied.
“Alright! Plant the charges! And don’t waste this chance—test every weapon we’ve got left! Show me the teamwork you’ve spent years perfecting!”
The workers scattered.
From the warehouse, they hauled boxes of dynamite.
In the armory, a massive blue curtain was yanked aside, revealing a colossal weapon bristling with untested technology.
The clang of boots against metal filled the air as engine workers abandoned their posts to join the demolition effort.
Carina watched it all unfold, her chest swelling with pride even as the weight of her decision pressed down on her.
With a final glance at the bustling room, she turned and sprinted back to the ladder.
As she climbed out into the open air, the roar of the underground operation faded, replaced by the eerie silence of the surface. She didn’t look back.
“Where are you going?!”
Ezra shouted after her, his voice echoing off the metal walls.
Carina didn’t look back, her boots pounding against the grated floor as she sprinted toward the ladder.
“Buying time!”
Ezra stood frozen for half a heartbeat, her words hammering in his mind.
His pulse thundered in his ears as he followed her. His boots scraped against the ground. Without speaking, he bolted for the ladder, gripping the rungs tightly as he hauled himself up after her.
The moment he emerged into the cool air above, the oppressive heat of the underground fading behind him, his eyes scanned the scene ahead.
Farther off, two figures stood near the tunnel entrance.
Pharrell leaned casually against the wall, his expression unreadable as he wiped his hands with a scrap of cloth, his movements slow and deliberate.
Beside him, Orion crouched low, sharpening his scissor blade. The blade's jagged edge caught the dim tunnel light, each glint like a flash of lightning in the shadows.
Ezra’s eyes locked with Orion’s, and his breath hitched. Orion’s death stare was cold and unflinching, a predator’s gaze that pinned Ezra in place.
Pharrell moved first. Without a word, he drew his USP-45, flicking off the safety.
The click was sharp, unmistakable, and the air seemed to tighten.
He charged at Carina, his steps pounding against the ground, the barrel of his gun fixed on her.
Carina didn’t hesitate. Her pistol was already in her hand, its dark muzzle aligned with his chest as she surged forward, closing the distance between them.
Her movements were fast, her breathing steady even as the gap between them evaporated.
Bang!
The first shot rang out, followed by another. The hollow gunshot of the USP echoed in the confined space, each bullet slamming into Carina’s body.
The impacts sent faint ripples through her frame, but she didn’t falter.
Her focus never wavered, her steps unbroken as she pushed through the onslaught like a force of nature, her own trigger finger itching to retaliate.
To the side, Ezra broke into a full sprint, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Orion rose to meet him, tossing his battered scissor blade aside without a glance.
In one motion, he pulled the other scissor blade from his pocket. Its jagged edge gleamed, catching the dull tunnel light as he twirled it once in his hand, testing its balance.
Ezra barely had time to register the blade before Orion moved.
The scissor blade slashed downward, a lethal arc aiming for Ezra’s face.
Ezra twisted his body, narrowly evading the strike.
The blade’s edge screamed through the air, close enough for him to feel the rush of displaced wind against his cheek.
Without breaking stride, Ezra surged forward, aiming a punch at Orion’s ribs.
But Orion stepped back, the sharp glint of his eyes visible beneath his hood.
Ezra reached for his gun, yanking it from his holster mid-step, and fired 8 rounds at Orion’s head.
The bullets penetrated through the hood, tearing it away as a black mask and a pair of jagged horns glinted ominously in the light.
His face stopped Ezra cold for a split second.
Orion tilted his head slightly, almost amused, as the shots ricocheted harmlessly off the mask.
Ezra cursed under his breath, his hand trembling as he lowered the gun.
Bullets were useless.
Snapping back to action, Ezra lunged forward, now empty-handed.
Orion responded instantly, his blade arcing toward Ezra’s throat.
Ezra ducked low, the blade missing him by a hair’s breadth, its tip slicing a few strands of his hair. Using the momentum of his dodge, he drove a hard hook into Orion’s side.
The impact sent a shudder through Orion’s frame, his body momentarily stiffening.
Ezra felt the satisfying thud of his fist connecting with flesh beneath the layers of armor, the impact traveled to his liver.
Orion didn’t flinch. He drove his left fist into the bottom right of Ezra’s jaw with a brutal force.
The impact sent a crack through Ezra’s skull as his vision blurred.
His body whipped back, crashing onto the ground like a lifeless ragdoll. Pain seared through him, his foot trembling uncontrollably. Panic clawed at his chest—he couldn't stand. He couldn't fight.
Desperately, Ezra pressed his palms against the dirt, trying to push himself up, but his strength betrayed him.
A shadow loomed over him.
“I hit you with an uppercut.”
Orion sneered, his tone oozing mockery.
“Didn’t you feel it?”
He stepped closer, gripping the scissor blade tightly.
“Or are you too stupid to even understand it?”
Without hesitation, Orion plunged the scissor blade into Ezra’s chest. Ezra tried to intercept Orion’s hand, but he missed. The blade impaled deep into his flesh.
Ezra’s scream echoed through the battlefield, but it was cut short as Orion wrapped his arms around him in a crushing headlock.
Carina’s heart thundered in her chest as she watched Ezra’s body go limp in Orion’s grasp.
Fear surged, but she shoved it aside. Now wasn’t the time to hesitate.
She spun back to face Pharrell, who had lunged at her with a roar, arms outstretched.
Carina sidestepped, her movements sharp. Raising her gun, she dropped into a Center Axis Relock stance and fired.
Pharrell reacted instantly, his right shoulder snapping up to shield his head.
The bullets ripped through his vest, grazing his arms, but failed to hit their mark.
He stumbled back, teeth bared, but Carina didn’t give him time to recover. She hurled her empty gun at his face.
Pharrell deflected it with a snarl and whipped out his own pistol. He fired three wild shots, the last slamming into Carina’s left arm.
“Fuck!”
She shouted, gripping the wound as searing pain shot through her.
Blood seeped through her fingers, but her eyes stayed locked on Pharrell.
She wasn’t done yet.
In a flash, Pharrell launched himself off the ground and slammed his shoulder into Carina’s abdomen, driving her hard into the ground.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs as his full weight bore down on her.
Before she could recover, Pharrell’s hand clamped around her throat, pressing it against the cold, jagged surface beneath her.
Carina gasped and clawed at his arms, her nails scraping against his skin as her vision began to blur.
Ezra, barely conscious, caught a distorted glimpse of Carina’s desperate struggle through his fading sight.
His heart pounded. Gritting his teeth, he reached for the gun he dropped before while getting pinned down in that position.
He leveled the barrel at Pharrell’s head, his trembling arms trying to steady the aim.
But just as his finger tightened on the trigger, Orion’s hand shot out, wrenching the gun downward.
“Not today!”
Orion hissed, his voice like gravel.
Ezra twisted his wrist, redirecting the barrel towards Orion’s face, and pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out, the bullet tearing through Orion’s mask and knocked it away.
Orion staggered back, his long black hair spilling over his shoulders, revealing blood-red eyes with slitted pupils—a hauntingly inhuman glare fixed on Ezra.
The distraction gave Ezra enough time to whip the gun toward Pharrell again, he aimed for his head.
When he fired, the bullet slammed into Pharrell’s shoulder, spinning him off Carina with a grunt of pain.
“Fuck!”
Ezra exclaimed.
Carina seized her chance. She bucked free of Pharrell’s grip, her boot lashing out and connecting with his face in a brutal heel strike.
Blood sprayed from his nose as he fell back, dazed.
Ezra tried to line up another shot, but his grip faltered, and the bullet flew wildly, ricocheting off the tunnel ceiling with a deafening clang.
Before he could recover, Orion lunged at him, knocking the gun from his hand.
Ezra swung a wild punch, but Orion caught his arm, twisting it back with monstrous strength.
Ezra gritted his teeth, his free hand fumbling for anything he could use. His fingers closed around a loose rock on the ground.
With a guttural roar, he smashed it into Orion’s temple. The blow sent Orion reeling, but his grip on Ezra’s arm never faltered.
Thinking fast, Ezra shoved his gun barrel into Orion’s right eye with everything he had.
The sound of shattering bone was accompanied by Orion’s inhuman scream.
He pulled the gun back and drove his elbow into Orion’s face.
Ezra didn’t stop. Fueled by adrenaline, he grabbed Orion’s horn and yanked his head back, jamming the gun into his left eye with ferocious force.
Orion thrashed wildly, his screams echoing through the tunnel.
Without hesitation, Ezra ripped the blade from his own chest and plunged it straight into Orion’s chin.
The blade sank deep, silencing Orion’s cries as Ezra forced him to the ground, his knee pressing hard into Orion’s chest.
Orion’s hands shot up, clawing at Ezra’s neck, their strength evenly matched in a deadly struggle.
The tunnel seemed to tremble under the weight of their battle.
Suddenly, a low rumble began to echo above them.
Ezra’s eyes darted upward as cracks spread like spider webs across the ceiling.
The ceiling erupted, massive chunks of stone and debris plummeting to the ground. Amid the chaos, a figure landed with a bone-jarring crash, the shockwave kicking up dust and shards.
The Architect rose from the impact, her movements unnervingly smooth. Blood trickled down her face, but her expression remained eerily calm, as if the wounds didn’t exist.
“I couldn’t find you at school.”
She said, her voice cutting through the noise.
“So, you’re here…”
All eyes locked onto her. Silence. Shock.