The iron wagon bounced on the bumps, and every jolt echoed with the ringing of shackles.
The anti-magic steel unpleasantly chilled my wrists, draining my strength.
Opposite me in the twilight sat Zeno. The old man was silent the whole way. It seemed to me that in front of me was just an empty shell.
"We are returning," wheezed Zeno, without raising his head.
"We already got out of there once," I answered, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "We will get out a second time."
Outside, the rumble of massive opening gates rang out. The sound of wheels on stone was replaced by the hollow echo of a tunnel. The wagon drove into the belly of the mountain, and the daylight finally disappeared. We were going down, into the "Lower Horizon".
When the doors swung open, we were met by dry air, soaked with ozone and burnt oil. This place had not changed: the same labyrinth of concrete, pipes, and magical cables pulsating with a dim light.
A cross between a monastery and a factory, where prayers were replaced by the hum of generators.
Richter stood at the entrance, his arms folded on his chest. His armor was splattered with the mud of the Pass, but his gaze remained steel. Next to him was a man whose appearance caused in me an instant flash of recognition and hatred.
Supreme Mage Kane.
He did not look like a warrior. Thin, in a strict dark mantle, with thin fingers eternally stained in reagents.
"Object Alpha," pronounced Kane, and his voice was devoid of any emotions. "You have caused us a lot of trouble. Your 'physical anomalies' almost destroyed the balance of several sectors."
He stepped closer, ignoring Zeno's growl.
Kane turned to Richter:
"Take the mercenary to the containment block. And the Object—to 'Sector Zero'. We have a critical divergence of fields there."
The guards roughly grabbed Zeno. He did not even resist when he was dragged deep into the corridors.
"Listen to me, Iron," Kane leaned to my ear. "If you do not stabilize the reactor, I will personally check how many volts this old man will withstand before he finally dies."
"What a bastard," I muttered.
In Sector Zero, as always, the air was thick and oily, and a crimson glow emanated from the walls.
"Shackles," Richter ordered shortly.
The guard clicked the lock, and the anti-magic steel fell to the floor. In the same second, [Will to Live] tore from the inside, like a compressed spring. I staggered from the information pouring into my brain.
"Hurry up," sounded Kane's dry voice from the speakers. "The reactor has a thermal runaway. The magical contour has entered an uncontrolled resonance."
I looked at the central column.
The huge obsidian cylinder vibrated so strongly that the image around it doubled. The mana inside behaved like superheated steam in a jammed boiler.
"Too high kinetic energy of the particles. The entropy of the system is striving to a maximum."
"We will lower it," I whispered, taking a step towards the blazing metal.
I stretched out my hands. My fingers began to smoke from the heat, but with the help of the skill I did not feel pain.
"Second law of thermodynamics. Maxwell's demon."
I began to forcibly divide the mana flows. High-energy particles—to one side, low-energy ones—to the other. I created an artificial gradient, turning the chaotic movement into an ordered vortex.
Local decrease of entropy.
It cost monstrous efforts. I felt how mana was burning out my own channels, how blood was boiling in my veins. In my nose there was a distinct smell of ozone and singed hair.
"Stabilize..." I growled, putting in my last strength.
Black spots swam before my eyes, and a persistent taste of rusty iron appeared in my mouth—internal bleeding.
With a deafening whistle, the reactor exhaled a cloud of steam, and the crimson glow was replaced by an even, icy blue color. The rumble died down, turning into a measured, barely audible hum.
I collapsed to my knees, heavily grasping the scorching air with my mouth.
"Enough," Kane behind the glass nodded in satisfaction. "He survived. And the reactor is intact."
Richter approached me and roughly jerked me up by the scruff of the neck.
"Move. You need to 'rest'. Tomorrow we will need you on the Surface. In the Dead Quarter."
I was dragged through the corridors.
I barely comprehended where we were going. My legs dragged along the concrete, my head hung limply on my chest. I was thrown into a cramped technical compartment, where stood only one lopsided cot.
The door slammed shut with a heavy clank.
I fell onto the mattress, not even taking off my boots. Every movement was torture. The bell of the reactor still rang in my head, and Jerald's face stood before my eyes.
I heard various words "You are just a tool, Iron", "Be obedient" before I finally fell into a heavy sleep.
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