The corridor exploded in light and sound.
The first wave of enemies came from the left—dark silhouettes against the cold glow of flickering blue conduits that ran along the walls. They moved fast, armored in black composite plating, weapons humming with magnetic charge. Zander didn't hesitate. His blades flashed from their sheaths, twin arcs of steel glinting under the harsh light.
Aetheros lunged beside him, the volcanic chamber shaking under the beast's sheer weight. His roar tore through the stale air, echoing through the tunnels like the bellow of an ancient god. The first three attackers were swept aside before they could even fire. One slammed against the reinforced wall; another was sent tumbling into a shattered console, sparks raining over his limp body.
Zander pivoted, sidestepping a plasma bolt that sliced past his shoulder and scorched the metal bulkhead. He parried another strike, the kinetic shock rippling through his arm. The hum of energy blades met the screech of steel as he countered with fluid precision—each motion a product of thousands of hours of disciplined training. He was fast, but not reckless; his senses stretched outward like invisible tendrils, reading every vibration, every breath, every faint displacement of air.
There were more of them—too many. He counted at least a dozen signatures moving in from both directions. A coordinated strike team.
"They're organized," Zander hissed under his breath.
Aetheros didn't answer. The saber-toothed beast was a blur of motion, claws and muscle working in terrifying harmony. His newly grown claws—black, glossy, and sharp enough to slice through alloy—ripped into the floor as he pounced, tearing through a pair of soldiers who had tried to flank him. Sparks burst where claws met armor.
"Left corridor!" Zander shouted, spinning his blades into a cross-guard stance.
Aetheros responded instantly, turning with feral grace. A stream of plasma fire erupted toward him; the air shimmered with heat. He ducked low, using his forelimb to deflect one blast that ricocheted against the wall, then surged forward again. The air was heavy with ozone and burnt metal.
Zander darted toward the central console area—a cluster of half-functional terminals and cables dangling like metal vines. Using the environment to his advantage, he vaulted onto a raised platform, kicked off, and came down hard on an attacker's chest, driving both blades deep through composite plating. The man convulsed, then went still.
He exhaled sharply. Every motion had to count.
There was movement to his right—a second squad, this one heavier, carrying plasma halberds. These weren't ordinary mercenaries; they moved in perfect formation. Prometheus had soldiers like these—bio-engineered enforcers, loyal to whoever held the chain.
Aethros took the brunt of the next exchange. The air around him flared as the latent energy inside his body responded instinctively. A low hum vibrated through the room—the resonance of raw Force, bending faint streams of air and dust around him. His fur seemed to bristle with energy; the crimson veins of power pulsed faintly beneath the surface.
He met the halberd line head-on. The floor cracked under his paws. His claws slashed upward, meeting metal and light, cutting through the weapon shafts as if they were made of glass. He roared again, and this time the sound wasn't just a roar—it was pressure. A shockwave of Force rippled outward, knocking three men backward and sending their weapons skidding across the metal floor.
Zander saw the gap and took it. He dashed forward, blades spinning, slicing through the staggered line before they could recover.
The two fought as one—human and beast in perfect rhythm, instincts honed through trust and trial. They were outnumbered, but not outmatched.
Then something changed.
The lights overhead flickered, once—twice—and then dimmed to a deep amber. The floor began to hum beneath their feet. Aetheros paused mid-step, his ears twitching.
Zander froze, his eyes scanning the chamber. He could feel it—a vibration that didn't belong to the facility's machinery. It was rhythmic, controlled… a pattern.
Then the walls came alive.
Panels slid open along the corridors, revealing embedded turrets and surveillance eyes. They didn't fire. They were watching. Recording.
"What is this…?" Zander murmured.
A metallic voice broke through the static of a nearby speaker—distorted, ancient, and layered with digital decay.
"Unauthorized biological presences detected. Clearance anomaly—subject profile not recognized. Override in progress."
The turrets tracked them but remained still. Zander's grip tightened on his swords. "Someone's watching us."
Aetheros growled low, his nostrils flaring. "I smell them."
Before Zander could respond, a pulse of blue energy cut through the far corridor. A figure stepped through the haze—tall, clad in a long coat lined with adaptive armor plating. The faint gleam of integrated circuits traced patterns along his forearms and neck. His face was calm, but his eyes—pale, almost silver—glowed faintly in the dim light.
The soldiers who had survived the initial clash immediately froze, straightening. Even they seemed uncertain whether to attack or stand down.
The newcomer raised a hand, and every remaining combatant lowered their weapon in perfect unison. The air shifted, the tension thick as the hum of forcefields lingered in the background.
Zander and Aethros stood ready, side by side.
The man stepped closer, boots clicking softly on the metallic floor. "You shouldn't be here," he said quietly, his tone level but carrying an unmistakable authority.
Zander's eyes narrowed. "That's not an answer."
"No," the man agreed. "But it's the only one that matters right now."
The light above flickered again, and for a split second, Zander caught a clearer look at the man's features. He wasn't much older—perhaps mid-twenties—but there was something ageless in his expression. His presence carried weight, not from size or weaponry, but from control. Every movement was deliberate, efficient, without waste.
Aethros bared his fangs, lowering his head in warning. "Who are you?"
The man's silver gaze drifted to the beast, then back to Zander. "My name doesn't matter," he said. "But if you must call me something—Thane will do."
Zander exchanged a glance with Aethros. "You're with Prometheus."
Thane tilted his head slightly, considering the question. "I was," he said at last. "A long time ago."
He stepped forward, closer now, until the faint hum of his armor's energy field was audible. The soldiers around them remained motionless, awaiting silent orders.
Zander didn't lower his weapons. "You expect us to believe that?"
"No," Thane said softly. "I expect you to listen."
He reached into his coat and withdrew a small, black cylindrical device. It emitted a soft harmonic tone—the same pitch as the one Zander had heard before they found the laboratory. Thane turned it over once in his hand, almost absentmindedly.
"This facility was one of the last operational nodes under Prometheus," he explained. "It was designed for research that… exceeded moral boundaries even by their standards. The project here—BRC, as you've seen—wasn't just for restoration. It was for convergence."
"Convergence?" Zander repeated.
Thane nodded. "The merging of evolution's branches. The line between beast and man, nature and machine—obliterated, rewritten. You've already seen glimpses of it in yourselves."
Zander's jaw clenched. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that you've only begun to understand what they made you capable of," Thane replied, his tone still eerily calm. "And that what you carry inside you—both of you—will draw their attention again soon."
The words hung in the air, heavy and deliberate.
Aethros let out a low growl. "Speak clearly, human."
Thane's gaze shifted to him. "You've been evolving faster than natural law should allow. That catalyst was only one fragment of a larger sequence. You think you've found strength—but what you've really found is a key. Prometheus doesn't lose track of its keys."
Zander's pulse quickened. He could feel the weight of the man's words sinking in, threading unease through his resolve.
"You said you were with them," Zander pressed. "Then why warn us?"
Thane's expression hardened, though his tone remained composed. "Because I know what comes next. The cycle repeats—the hunter becomes the experiment. You're not the only ones who survived the labs."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Even Aetheros seemed to sense the gravity of the statement, his growl fading into a tense rumble.
Zander stared at Thane. "What do you mean, not the only ones?"
Thane exhaled slowly, lowering the device in his hand. "There were others—children, like you once were. Prometheus didn't stop after the 24XY project. They expanded it. Refined it. What came after was something… far more dangerous."
He glanced toward the far corridor, where shadows danced along the walls as emergency lights cycled through dim red and amber.
"They called it Project Genesis."
The name hit Zander like a stone dropped into deep water—sinking fast, rippling outward.
Before he could ask, the sound of bootsteps echoed faintly from the distant tunnel—another group approaching. Thane's eyes narrowed.
"We don't have time," he said quickly. "If you want answers, survive long enough to seek them. I've disabled the primary defense grid for now, but it won't last."
Zander lifted his swords again, ready. "You're coming with us."
Thane gave a faint, almost regretful smile. "No. My part in this ends here."
He pressed the black device against the wall, and a vertical seam of light split open, revealing a maintenance shaft glowing faintly with escape lights.
"Follow that tunnel. It'll take you to the geothermal exit under the ridge. Once you're out, you'll need to move fast."
Zander hesitated. "Why help us?"
Thane met his gaze evenly. "Because whether you believe it or not, I've seen what happens if you fail."
And with that, the alarms blared to life again—piercing, mechanical, angry. The soldiers who had stood frozen began to move once more, their eyes flashing blue as if reactivated by some unseen signal.
Thane turned away. "Go."
Zander didn't wait. "Aethros—move!"
The beast gave one last defiant roar toward the soldiers before bounding toward the shaft. Zander followed, blades drawn, ducking under a spray of plasma fire as he leapt into the narrow corridor of light.
Behind them, Thane stood unmoving as the soldiers raised their weapons again. The hatch slid closed with a heavy metallic clang, sealing them off.
For a few seconds, all that remained in the darkness was the echo of the alarms—and the quiet hum of a man's voice speaking into the dark.
"Let's see if you're truly ready for what's coming."