The halls of the Citadel howled with the pulse of machinery, every corridor echoing like the throat of some vast beast. Elin's boots hammered against alloy plates as she sprinted, lungs burning, stopwatch clutched tight in her gloved hand. Its pale green digits glowed against the dark, a constant reminder that their lives were tethered to seconds.
"Three minutes… keep moving!" she hissed between breaths.
Beside her, Brynhild ran with a grin plastered across her face, her gauntlet sparking faintly with residual energy. The woman treated the dash like a sport, not a death sentence. She vaulted a broken crate, landed hard, and flashed Elin a wild wink.
Conduits flickered overhead like veins, and pylon bases hummed low in the walls, the machine-heart of the Citadel pulsing beneath their feet. If those systems came back online...
She forced the thought down and focused on rhythm: left, right, breathe, leap. They vaulted a collapsed scaffolding, ducked under a hanging pipe. Elin's stopwatch beeped softly, digits ticking down.
The Citadel stretched on and on, a labyrinth of steel choking the stone skeleton of the Winter Castle.
They reached a maintenance shaft, narrow and slick with frost. Elin grabbed a ladder, nearly sliding on the rungs. Brynhild chose to jump, gauntlet sparking as she slammed into the floor below with a grunt and a laugh.
"Elin, you really know how to show a girl the underbelly of a kingdom," she muttered, brushing dust off her shoulders.
Elin didn't rise to the bait. Her breath came quick, ragged, but her eyes were sharp, scanning the alien transformation that grew worse the deeper they descended. The old stone walls were almost gone here, consumed by black alloy. Veins of it wormed across the surface like roots, pulsing faint red. Conduits thicker than tree trunks ran along the ceilings, alive with faint humming, like arteries feeding some vast brain.
"This isn't just a fortress anymore," Elin whispered, voice reverent and fearful. "The Power Complex… it's an artery of Tyrakos's mind. If we can touch it, we touch him."
Brynhild cracked her neck, unconcerned. "Good. I've been dying to punch a god."
The stopwatch beeped again. 5 minutes. Elin's stomach lurched at the sight of the glowing digits. Time slipped through their fingers like blood.
They reached a massive gate at the base of the shaft, its surface a writhing lattice of Draugr glyphs, each one pulsing faintly as though aware of their presence.
"Can you crack it?" Brynhild asked.
Elin shook her head. "Not fast enough."
"Good thing you brought me, then."
Brynhild stepped forward, her gauntlet lighting up as she drew her arm back. With a roar, she slammed her fist into the glyph-etched surface. Sparks exploded, shards of black alloy clattering across the floor. The locks groaned, stuttered, and with a second strike, shattered. The gate heaved open, and the stench of burning ozone rolled out like a wave.
"After you, princess," Brynhild said, mock-bowing.
Elin glared, but there was no time to waste. She pushed through.
The chamber beyond was vast, cathedral-like. Its ceiling stretched into darkness, where colossal pylons hung like inverted spires, humming with power. Veins of glowing circuitry cascaded down the walls, feeding into conduits the size of rivers that pulsed with an eerie rhythm. At the center, a tower of alloy and crystal rose: the gateway to the Power Complex.
Elin stopped, chest heaving. She glanced at her stopwatch. 7 minutes.
Then every light in the chamber blazed crimson.
Alarms shrieked. Emergency glyphs surged to life, painting the walls in blood.
"No," Elin breathed. She stared at her stopwatch, still ticking down. *7 minutes remained.* "It's too soon. Something forced a reset!"
All around them, alcoves cracked open like tombs. From the shadows dropped Draugr drones—dozens, then hundreds—metallic feet slamming into the floor in unison. Their eyes flared to life, burning red pinpricks that cut through the haze.
The chamber quaked with the sound of awakening, of Tyrakos's will rushing back into the flesh of its machines.
Brynhild spat on the ground, gauntlet thrumming as she squared her shoulders. "Well," she muttered, grin sharpening, "so much for stealth."
She cracked her knuckles and stepped forward, fearless.
"Then we fight or die. Simple math."
Elin swallowed hard, heart rattling in her chest as the red glow intensified around them. The drones lifted their weapons in unison, eyes fixed on the two intruders.
And the countdown kept ticking.
The chamber became a nightmare cathedral of steel and shrieking alarms. Draugr drones poured from alcoves by the dozen, then the hundred, crimson eyes snapping open like stars igniting in the dark. Their synchronized footfalls made the floor tremble, and beneath that rhythm, a heavier quake rumbled—something massive powering up in the depths.
Elin's eyes darted to the Power Complex tower gleaming in the distance. Just one hundred meters away… and yet impossibly far, a sea of machines between them. Her stopwatch ticked in her palm: **seven minutes.**
"We can't reach it now!" she gasped, panic cutting her voice raw. "Not without being torn apart—"
Brynhild's gauntlet flared as she caught Elin's arm, yanking her back before the front line of Draugr surged forward. "Then we run, princess!" she barked, grin savage even as her eyes burned with the reflection of a hundred crimson glares. "Save your brainy speeches for later!"
The drones raised their weapons in perfect unison. The chamber lit with the hum of energy rounds charging.
Brynhild shoved Elin toward the nearest corridor. "Move!"
The first volley screamed across the room, lancing into the stone floor where they had stood.
The Citadel became a storm around them.
Alarms blared in rising tones, metallic shrieks echoing through the endless maze of alloy and stone. Draugr poured after them in waves, their crimson eyes flickering down the corridors like predator fireflies.
Elin's lungs burned as they sprinted, the stopwatch clutched tight. Every echoing footstep behind them was a promise of death.
They careened down a stairwell, sparks raining as turrets in the ceiling flicked online. "Down!" Elin shouted. Brynhild tackled her into the wall just as twin streams of molten plasma stitched the air above.
The stone steps cracked under their boots as they launched forward, weaving through half-lit chambers where conduits pulsed like arteries. Behind them, the Citadel roared with awakening, every system alive again.
They crashed into another hall, Draugr drones spilling in from the opposite side. Brynhild didn't hesitate—her gauntlet blazed as she hurled a crate into the advancing line. It smashed two drones flat, but more pushed through.
"There!" Elin pointed. A side door, half-ajar, light spilling faintly from within.
Brynhild slammed into it shoulder-first. The door screeched open and they tumbled through, Elin nearly dropping the stopwatch. Brynhild spun, her gauntlet lighting as she slammed the door back into its frame.
"Hold, damn you!" she roared, bracing with both arms. The door shuddered under the pounding fists of Draugr. She channeled raw energy into the mechanism. The metal warped, fused, locked.
Elin staggered forward, back pressed to the wall, chest heaving as though her lungs would collapse. She pressed her palm to her forehead, sweat stinging her eyes despite the cold. The faint rumble of alarms vibrated through the walls, the muted pounding of Draugr like fists on a coffin lid. But here, in this sealed space, there was… quiet.
The room did not match the rest of the Citadel. It was not a prison cell, nor a gutted chamber of pylons. Rich carpets still lay across the stone floor, untouched by Draugr alloy. Bookshelves lined the walls, their leather-bound tomes preserved. Crystals glowed in sconces with soft, steady light. A desk stood in the center, polished wood unmarred by centuries of ruin.
And someone was waiting.
A figure stood calmly at the heart of the chamber, hands folded behind his back. His clothes were pristine—tailored coat, boots polished, shirt crisp white. His dark hair was slicked, his face clean, his posture composed.
Not chained. Not terrified.
Simply… waiting.
Elin froze mid-step, her rifle half-raised before disbelief checked her. "Who… who are you?"