The Hunt Begins

Veyna ran.

The Undervault’s tunnels twisted like a labyrinth, their walls coated in rusted circuitry and remnants of an era the city above had long abandoned. Alarms blared overhead, muffled by layers of concrete and steel.

But the Sentinels were still coming.

> [00:46:30] UNTIL CORE FAILURE.

The data chip the Architect had given her burned against her palm—not physically, but with the weight of its importance. She didn’t even know what was on it yet, but the fact that the Sentinels were actively tracking her meant it held something The Cortex didn’t want exposed.

She needed a place to hide.

The Scrap Runners

The tunnels opened into a vast, forgotten scrapyard beneath the city, filled with discarded tech, broken drone parts, and half-melted structures from a time before the Cortex’s absolute control. The air was damp, tinged with the scent of ozone and rust.

And then—movement.

Veyna skidded to a stop. From the shadows of the wreckage, figures emerged. Thin, wiry, covered in patchwork armor made from salvaged tech. Their eyes glowed faintly, cybernetic implants gleaming beneath the dim lights.

> The Scrap Runners.

She had heard rumors. Scavengers. Outlaws. People who had slipped through the cracks of Cyropolis’s system and refused to be controlled.

A tall figure stepped forward, their face obscured by a helmet fused with multiple visors. A modified plasma rifle hung loosely in their grip.

> "You lost, city-girl?"

Veyna’s mind raced. She could try to fight, but she was outnumbered. Running was pointless—she had nowhere to go.

So instead, she took a slow breath and tightened her grip on the data chip.

> "No. I’m exactly where I need to be."

The leader tilted their head.

> "That so?"

Behind them, the air shimmered—a cloaked figure stood at a distance, watching. Not one of the Scrap Runners. Someone else.

Someone waiting.

And just like that, Veyna realized she wasn’t just being hunted by the Sentinels anymore.

Now, the underground wanted her too.

> [00:45:12] UNTIL CORE FAILURE.