Chapter 1: The Dome

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

[Emergency announcement. Red Code. A test subject has breached containment… Repeat, a test subject has breached containment… All security units, deploy immediately and intercept.]

[Warning… the test subject exhibits abnormal potential index. Repeat, maximum threat-level potential detected. Authorization granted for extreme containment measures. Proceed with utmost caution.]

In the dead of night, white overhead lights flickered violently, alternating with red sirens that washed across the metal walls. The blaring alarm pierced through the air, cutting straight into the nerves, signaling a fracture in what had once been a perfectly stable system. Inside the narrow corridors of the research facility, chaos erupted. Figures in lab coats ran for their lives in disarray, like rats trapped in a burning cage.

As armored assault units armed to the teeth pushed forward to seal off the area, the clash of metal and distant screams was swallowed by gunfire and explosions that rattled deep into the bones. Orange flames licked along severed electrical lines, while thick smoke filled the air, heavy with the stench of burning chemicals and gunpowder. The environment reeked of an approaching collapse.

“Lock onto the target! Do not let their genetic codes slip out!”

The roar of the assault team leader echoed through the metal corridor, muffled behind his tactical mask.

Clack!

“Kill authorization granted. Live rounds fully authorized. If containment fails, immediate on-site elimination is approved!”

The moment the execution order was given, a storm of bullets tore through the air. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Muzzle flashes lit up the darkness as shots echoed through the corridor. Rounds slammed into steel walls with sharp metallic clangs. Clang! Clang! Bang! Sparks scattered in every direction as shifting shadows flickered like demons being hunted through the smoke.

BOOMMMMMM!!

A massive concussive blast warped the titanium blast door before ripping it clean off its hinges. The chaos continued to spread across every inch of the facility.

On the other side of the abandoned research facility… silence was broken only by the sound of dripping liquid. A figure collapsed against a freezing steel wall, his breath coming in ragged bursts, each exhale fading into a thin mist.

“Why… why did you side with them…?”

The trembling voice slipped from the lips of a man in a torn patient uniform. Half of his face was drenched in thick blood seeping from a severe wound. His eyes were filled with confusion, as if the very concept refused to make sense.

On the opposite side, a man in the same experimental uniform stood over the fallen body. His gaze was empty, devoid of mercy, like a cold, unfeeling sensor.

“There’s no complicated reason…”

His voice was flat, unsettlingly calm.

“I wasn’t bought with scraps of money like you lot. I chose to walk into this hell on my own from day one.”

As the words faded, stripped of love, greed, anger, and desire, everything cut out in an instant, swallowed by encroaching darkness…

…..

Edward stood motionless in the waves of people beneath the neon glow of the main street inside the dome. He couldn’t tell when that instinct had kicked in.

Under the steady rhythm of artificial rain falling according to programmed cycles, the crowd around him kept their heads down, moving along their own paths without paying attention to anything else. Some carried umbrellas, some wore raincoats, and others ran frantically for cover. But one man stood out as wrong… a man in a raincoat standing at the far end of the intersection. A hood covered his face completely.

He didn’t even bother to avoid the rain. In a world like this, no one just stood in the rain for nothing, and no one stayed that still in the middle of a rushing crowd. Most importantly, no one wore a hood that concealed their face so completely at a time when facial recognition sensors were scanning every corner of the street.

[Central Control Announcement, Biotope 5…]

A synthetic voice echoed from the overhead speakers. Edward looked up at the massive billboard screen on the skyscraper. Red text blinked rapidly, alternating with a blurred face of someone unknown.

[High-level confidential data theft suspect identified. An armed criminal group has attacked a research facility and stolen the blueprint of the Outlands atmospheric restoration project. If the suspect is located, report immediately to the authorities. Bounty reward will be transferred directly to your credit account.]

Edward stared at the reward number over and over again, but it wasn’t the money that kept his eyes locked on the hooded man. It was something else he couldn’t put into words. Among hundreds of people crossing paths around him, that man stood rooted in place like a rock in the middle of a river, unmoving, unbothered, with no reaction to the heavy rain pouring down.

The cold droplets hitting his skin made Edward subconsciously shrug his shoulders, shivering slightly, but the man… didn’t move at all.

“Doesn’t he feel cold or something…?”

He muttered to himself in quiet confusion.

The next announcement remained just as flat and emotionless, delivering a number that signaled disaster. A number that meant anyone foolish enough to step outside without protective gear would have their lungs burned from the inside out within minutes.

Edward had been hearing figures like this ever since moving into the dome. It had never gone down. When he was a child, he once asked a teacher how effective the government’s atmospheric restoration project actually was. The answer he received was, “It’s progressing well.” But the reality displayed on every screen was the same number: 751, unchanged for as long as he could remember.

The hooded man started moving.

Edward snapped out of his thoughts. His gaze immediately shot back to the intersection. The figure in the raincoat had turned into a narrow alley on the right. He wasn’t rushing, nor was he trying to hide. He simply walked, calm and steady, as if he knew no one would dare follow him in.

If he wasn’t someone the government was hunting, then why go into a deserted alley like that?

Edward thought to himself as he adjusted his coat and made a decision. He stepped forward and followed immediately.

The neon light faded with every step deeper inside. The main street, once bright and alive, was swallowed by the darkness of a narrow alley illuminated only by old, flickering lamps that blinked as if they were about to die. The hooded figure had moved only ten steps ahead before vanishing from Edward’s sight without warning.

Thud.

A cold pressure pressed against the back of his neck. The object was hard, with a blunt tip… definitely not human fingers.

Edward froze completely.

“Why are you following me?”

A hoarse, chilling voice came from behind him. The tone was flat and emotionless, as if asking about the weather rather than issuing a threat.

“You’re one of the fugitives… aren’t you?”

Edward forced the words out. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his temples. Silence stretched on far longer than it should have.

“If I told you I’m not, would you believe me?”

There was no hint of mockery in the voice, only fatigue… the tone of someone telling the truth while fully aware no one would believe it anyway.

“You even believe the fake weather forecasts in this dome.”

“If you’re not a criminal, then why are you running?”

“I’m not a criminal.”

Edward felt the pressure at the back of his neck ease, as if the other person had made a decision.

“But yes… I’m running.”

The voice dropped to something barely more than a breath.

“And you’d better not follow me. The bounty on my head isn’t worth the life you’d be risking for it.”

Edward spun around immediately, but the narrow alley was already empty. Only an old plastic pipe rolled across the edge of the walkway, clattering faintly as it hit the side and echoed through the silence.

He stood there alone. His heart still hammered out of rhythm. His hand, tucked inside his pocket, found no weapon at all, only his phone.

That man had used nothing more than an old plastic pipe to press against the back of his neck… not a gun, not any real weapon. Just a simple pipe, yet it had been enough to stop Edward cold in his tracks.

That fact left something lingering in his mind, something he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t anger at being deceived. It was a question that kept circling back again and again. If that man was truly as dangerous as the government claimed, why would he choose to use nothing more than a piece of plastic pipe?

Four officers arrived at the scene in less than a minute after Edward reported the incident. The beam from their flashlights swept across damp walls and patches of moss in the alley.

“You’re saying you spotted a suspect here?” one of them asked.

“Yes… I saw him standing at the intersection. He looked suspicious, so I followed him in.” Edward answered honestly.

“Do you remember what he looked like?”

“I never saw his face. Just a man in a raincoat, completely covered. Around six foot two, I’d say.”

“Did he attack you or show any threatening behavior?”

Edward looked down at the plastic pipe still lying motionless on the ground.

“No… it looked like he picked up that plastic pipe and pressed it against the back of my neck. Probably to make it seem like a gun. But he didn’t do anything else. He just said he wasn’t a criminal, but he was running.”

One of the officers muttered softly.

“Hm… if he’s not a criminal, then why is he running?”

“I asked him the same thing.”

“Alright. But he did have a point. If something like this happens again, you should contact the authorities immediately. Don’t put yourself at risk like that.”

The officer gave Edward a light pat on the shoulder, more as reassurance than anything else, before the group walked away.

I’m not a criminal.

That sentence kept echoing in his mind, looping endlessly, and Edward couldn’t shake it off, no matter how hard he tried.

…..

The room on the 17th floor was just as cramped as it always was whenever he returned. A small bed, a desk, a chair, a tiny cabinet, and a bathroom squeezed into the corner… that was all there was.

His family back in his hometown had sent him to study in the dome using carefully calculated savings. It was just enough to cover tuition and the cheapest room available in Biotope 5.

Edward collapsed onto the old spring bed. Above him, the faded cream ceiling stared back in silence, as if it were watching him in return.

Why would someone with a massive bounty choose a plastic pipe instead of a weapon? Why warn him instead of attacking? And why… was he able to disappear so quickly?

Edward reached out and activated a small holographic screen. Streams of news data flooded past his eyes. Footage from the research facility appeared: twisted titanium blast doors, scorched marks along metal walls, and a set of numbers that made him freeze.

Suspects neutralized on-site: 11. Escaped: 19.

Edward continued staring into the darkness of the ceiling.

I’m not a criminal… but yes, I’m running.

Everyone who fled the research facility was labeled in the news as criminals, terrorists, and high-level threats. Yet no outlet ever explained what they actually were.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the glass dome roof in its usual scheduled rhythm. Edward sat motionless in front of a screen, his eyes fixed on the live broadcast from the front plaza of the research facility, now under reconstruction.

A clean white podium stood at the center, the emblem of the central government prominently displayed, and a dense crowd of media personnel filled the area.

A middle-aged man in a white lab coat stepped up to the podium. His posture was calm, composed, and full of confidence… too much confidence for someone who had supposedly just lost something he claimed was absolutely critical the night before.

“Good morning, everyone. I am Dr. Nicolas Charrison, Director of the Research Center in Biotope 5. I deeply regret to announce that our facility is currently undergoing repairs due to structural damage. Although the recovery period will not be long, it has unfortunately caused a delay in the Outlands atmospheric restoration project…”

Dr. Nicolas delivered the statement smoothly, his tone filled with what sounded like genuine concern. Yet something made Edward ignore the speech and instead focus on the man’s eyes. There wasn’t a trace of regret in them. Not even a hint.

“…However, in this unfortunate news, we also have something positive to share. We have successfully discovered a new human variant as a result of our experiments. They possess capabilities far beyond those of ordinary humans.”

Dr. Nicolas paused briefly, then slowly let a smile spread across his face.

“Everyone… allow me to introduce the future of this world. P-Type.”

Applause thundered across the area. Seven figures stepped onto the stage, four men and three women. Their physiques varied, but all of them wore special forces combat armor. One thing they shared was unsettlingly identical: a chilling, inhuman coldness radiating from them. The P-Type emblem was engraved prominently on the right side of their chest plates.

“Starting today, P-Type units will be deployed under a newly established special task force to hunt down remaining fugitives and eliminate criminals escaping into the Outlands. We will begin a large-scale cleansing operation for a peaceful future for generations to come.”

The announcement ended, and applause erupted once again.

Edward continued staring intently at the seven figures on stage. Even he didn’t know what exactly he was looking for in this moment.

A female reporter raised her hand.

“What makes P-Type different from ordinary humans?”

“As P-Type, they possess physical durability several times greater than that of normal humans. They are capable of operating freely within the Outlands, something that was previously our greatest limitation due to environmental conditions.”

Dr. Nicolas answered with clear pride.

“And beyond durability, what advantages do we have when confronting those dangerous criminals?” she asked.

Dr. Nicolas paused for a moment, then smiled wider.

“As for their other capabilities, I must keep those classified. After all, it’s possible that even during this press conference… they might be watching us.”

A light chuckle spread through the crowd of journalists, satisfied by the playful tone of the answer.

But Edward didn’t find it funny at all. He was sinking deeper into a question that had been haunting him since the night before. If the atmospheric restoration project was truly progressing as claimed, then why had the AQI outside never dropped a single point since the day he was born?

And even more suspicious… if critical research had only been stolen last night, then how could the government already be presenting a fully realized result like the P-Type units on stage the very next morning?