Veyna’s boots hit the damp metal floor of the Undervault with a hollow clang. The air was thick—not with the artificial sterility of the city above, but with something raw. Something ancient. The scent of rust. The weight of forgotten history.
Above, the Sentinel whirred, scanning the opening of the shaft. Its red eye flickered, but it didn’t descend.
They won’t follow me here.
That realization sent a fresh chill down her spine. The Sentinels were programmed for absolute enforcement, yet something about this place made even them hesitate.
Veyna took a slow step forward. The Undervault was more than just a forgotten sector. It was a myth. A ghost story whispered in hushed voices—a place where the Cortex’s reach ended.
Which meant she wasn’t the only one here.
The Message in the Dark
Faint, glowing circuitry lined the walls, pulsing weakly—ancient tech that predated the city’s neural network. The tunnels stretched into darkness, some collapsed, others leading into unknown depths.
Her NeuroLock buzzed, startling her.
> [Incoming Transmission…]Source: Unknown. Location: Within 10 meters.
Veyna froze. Someone was watching.
A faint holographic interface flickered to life on the rusted wall beside her. The words were scrawled hastily, like a warning left for any who dared enter:
> “The Cortex is lying.”“The Core is not failing—it’s being SHUT DOWN.”“Find the Architect.”
Her pulse pounded. This wasn’t just an error. Someone was deliberately sabotaging Cyropolis.
The countdown wasn’t a malfunction.
It was a death sentence.
A metallic clank echoed from deeper in the tunnels. Footsteps. Not a drone. A person.
Veyna turned, fists clenched.
And from the shadows, a figure emerged.
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