I tried to open my eyes. My eyelids felt glued shut with hardened resin. When I finally forced them open, the world was a gray blur. The white floor had turned into a filthy sludge of soot and sharp shards. Golden veins that once carried energy were now black, scorched trenches carved into the stone.
I lay on my stomach, trying to push up with my right arm—and nearly lost consciousness when nothing happened. I felt no pain. I felt nothing at all.
I turned my head and looked at my shoulder.
My right arm was a chunk of charred gray crystal, covered in a web of cracks with acrid smoke lazily seeping out.
“...Error… reboot...”
Zeno’s voice echoed in my head.
System status: Critical degradation. Warning: Right manipulator fully deactivated. Energy: 0.6%.
“Iron… breathe, damn it!”
Someone roughly flipped me onto my back.
“Static field’s dead,” he rasped, grabbing me by the collar. “The doors are unlocked. We need to get out.”
He tried to lift me. Even though I wasn't heavy, for a wounded old man, I was a burden. Every movement echoed with a dry crunch in my ribs.
“Leave me…” I managed. My mouth was full of blood and dust.
“Shut up. I didn’t drag you through all those swamps just to leave you in this sterile hole. Hold onto my neck. With your left!”
Ephraim threw my left arm over his shoulder.
Overhead, enchanted lamps burst one by one, showering us with glass. Somewhere in the corridors, a siren wailed.
“Hear that?” Ephraim stopped at the doorway. “If we don’t make it through in three minutes, we’re stuck in this sector forever.”
We entered some long corridor. Papers, furniture debris, and… bodies were scattered everywhere.
“Don’t look at them,” Ephraim whispered, quickening his pace.
We reached the first intersection. Above us, a massive iron shutter began to descend with a grinding roar. A slab a palm’s width thick crawled downward—slowly and relentlessly.
“We won’t make it…” Ephraim hissed. His legs were shaking.
I looked at the shutter. A schematic surfaced in my mind on its own.
“Ephraim… to the right,” I pointed with my left hand. “In the niche, the emergency lockout lever. Red.”
He hauled me to the niche. The lever was under a glass dome. Ephraim smashed it with his elbow and yanked the handle down.
Metal shrieked. The slab froze half a meter from the floor. Cables tightened like strings, ready to snap at any second.
“Crawl!” Ephraim pushed me under the barrier.
I tumbled out onto the other side, scraping my skin against the cold metal. My right arm snagged on the edge of the slab. For a moment, I thought it would be torn off—and honestly, I wouldn’t have minded. But Ephraim, cursing, shoved it through and scrambled after.
A second later, a deafening crash echoed behind us—the cable snapped, and the multi-ton slab slammed shut.
“Where are we?” I asked as my consciousness began to blur.
“Technical Sector Beta. Storage and disposal,” Ephraim scanned the shadows. “If the old maps are right, there should be an exit to the ventilation shafts. They lead to the Pit.”
Clack…
Clack…
Clack…
Heavy. Measured. Like a hammer striking an anvil in a slow, funeral rhythm.
“For fuck's sake, just give us a break,” I said aggressively.
“Shit,” Ephraim whispered. “Richter’s back.”
“What? Him again? How did he find us so fast?” I asked, incensed.
“Doesn't matter. Right now we need to figure out how not to die here,” Ephraim said.
I looked down the corridor. “You're right. Exactly! Where’s the waste disposal here?”
“Around the corner. But it’s a thirty-meter drop.”
I felt the scraps of copper wire in my jacket pocket—the ones I’d stolen back in the hut.
The corridor narrowed. The ceilings got lower.
We reached a massive circular opening in the floor. Cold and rot wafted up from below.
The Pit.
Clack.
The footsteps stopped right behind us.
“O-o-object…” he rasped.
Ephraim drew a knife, but I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Useless. Jump, Ephraim.”
“Are you out of your mind?!”
“Jump! I’ll hold him for three seconds.”
Ephraim looked at me, then at the monster raising its blade. Doubt flickered in his eyes—but he nodded.
“Don't you dare die down there.”
And with those words, he stepped into the abyss.
Richter lunged. Despite the damage, he was fast.
I dropped flat in front of him. My right arm—it worked perfectly as a tripwire. Richter, having gained speed for the strike, tripped over my elbow.
He tried to brake, driving the fragment of his sword into the floor. But his body skidded toward the edge of the Pit.
At the last moment, he managed to grab my collar with his massive hand.
“T-t-together…” he rasped.
We fell.
The fall was long. The wind whistled in my ears, tearing the last bits of air from my lungs.
“You just opened a door I couldn't crack for three hundred years,” he said. “Thank you. Now the real fun begins.”
I didn't have time to ask what he meant.
I blacked out immediately.
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