For a while, no one said anything.
Our footsteps echoed along the platform, muffled by the distant dripping of water and the rustle of tarps behind us.
Those people kept watching as we disappeared into the dim corridor.
I couldn't stop thinking about their faces.
Every one of them shared the same hollow stare, their bodies thin to the bone, skin ashen gray as if something had drained even the will to keep breathing.
They lived by inertia, as though the very act of stopping required more effort than continuing.
But while the adults looked like they had already given up, there was still something alive in the eyes of the children.
They still laughed, faintly, playing with stones and scraps of wire, pretending the world outside hadn't died.
Maybe they were the last ones who still remembered what it meant to be human.
The captain walked ahead of us, silent, her face hidden by shadow.
"What was that place?" I finally asked, unable to hold it in.
Everyone's steps stopped for a moment.
They looked at me as if I'd asked something stupid, then resumed walking without answering.
After a few seconds, the woman beside me muttered.
"Condemned."
The word hung in the air, heavy.
It seemed to bother the man behind us, who clicked his tongue and spat on the ground.
No one reacted to it.
Soon, the skinny old man approached, glaring at me.
"Don't tell me you don't know their kind," he said, his voice sharp. "You, from the church?"
"I'm not from any church," I shot back. "I didn't even know about any of this until today…"
As I spoke, we reached an improvised staircase made of chains, wood, and welded metal.
We descended one by one.
Behind me, the man snorted.
"Don't know? How long do you plan on pretending?"
Compared to the world above, that tunnel almost felt calmer though just as rotten.
But even that illusion of safety gave me enough courage to keep talking.
"I'm not lying. I... I don't even know how I got here," I said quickly, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
"There was a light... it pulled me to that street. Then you found me. But before that, I woke up in that old church, and I don't even know how"
The words poured out, desperate, as if releasing the weight that had been crushing my chest since I woke up in that nightmare.
By the time I finished, I was panting.
When I looked at the others, their faces were unreadable apathetic, as if my story didn't matter.
The man beside me let out a short laugh.
"Ha! The church lunatics are getting more creative every day."
"It's true! I swear! And I'm not from any church!"
My voice cracked, almost begging, but it made no difference.
They had already decided what I was.
The captain slowed her pace, glancing back.
"Enough," she said flatly. "We'll find out soon enough if he's telling the truth. Keep moving."
The man shoved me forward roughly.
"We should just kill him and burn the body."
No one responded, but the silence felt like agreement.
I trembled.
I had let my guard down after not seeing any monsters outside, but it hit me then this place, and these people, were no safer.
When my boots touched the dusty, moss-covered rails, the chill of the ground climbed up through my legs.
The tunnel ahead was enormous a corridor of darkness broken only by the intermittent flash of red emergency lights.
Each flicker felt like the beat of a heart.
With every pulse of light, the group turned into a series of moving shadows projected onto the walls, now covered in roots and vines creeping down from the ceiling.
This tunnel no longer felt like part of a city; it was more like an ancient cavern swallowed by time.
Even with the dim lighting, I could make out markings on the walls scratches, symbols burned into the stone, others painted in dark red, almost brown.
I prayed it was paint.
They looked ancient, incomprehensible.
As we moved deeper, I lifted my gaze.
There was something above us.
Something clung to the ceiling.
The faint light didn't help, but as I squinted, I could see a dark mass unmoving, but breathing.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
Maybe it was just fear distorting my senses, but with each flash of light, that thing seemed to shift shape contracting, expanding, contracting again.
Like lungs.
I looked away, terrified, walking faster.
The blood drained from my face.
The man behind me chuckled dryly when he noticed.
"Better not look," he murmured.
I swallowed hard and said nothing.
I didn't want to know what that thing was.
The air grew thicker, heavier, moist and strangely sweet.
The smell of decaying flowers mixed with rust.
Now and then, I caught myself glancing upward the mass was still there, stretching above us, ten meters, maybe a hundred, impossible to tell.
Its presence filled the air, its stench seeping into my lungs.
If only I could close my eyes and stop seeing these things.
We walked for minutes, maybe hours.
Time folded in that place, and with the growing weight of the air, I lost all sense of it.
Then, a new shape appeared ahead a colossal iron gate, fused into the walls of the tunnel.
It blocked the passage entirely.
Chains, welded plates, and rusted beams crossed over it like a web of scars.
It looked more like a wound sealed with metal.
At its center, a small hatch just high enough for someone to peer through without being seen.
The captain took a deep breath.
"We're here."
She approached and knocked three times, slow and firm.
The sound echoed down the tunnel, deep and resonant, and I felt the vibration run through my body.
For a few seconds, nothing.
Then the rattle of chains, the hiss of a mechanism.
The hatch slid open.
A pair of eyes stared out from the other side, glowing faintly under a blue light.
The voice that followed was hoarse, tired.
"Who's there?"
"Mei," the captain replied. "Line B-2."
So that was her name.
I couldn't help but look at her again, wanting to remember it.
Silence.
The eyes narrowed.
"You weren't supposed to be here."
"Plans changed."
"How many with you?"
"Four."
The conversation dropped to a low murmur.
I couldn't make out the words, but the tone wasn't friendly.
Mei spoke fast, anxious, waving her iron bar.
The man behind the hatch answered with harsh whispers, his suspicion clear even without volume.
I tried to peek through, but the gap was too small.
Even so, I felt his gaze cold, dissecting crawl over me.
My whole body tensed.
Mei stepped closer, her face almost pressed against the metal.
The tone of her voice shifted urgency, then desperation.
Finally, she shouted:
"Malik turned into an Echo!"
Silence.
Only our breathing filled the air.
The hatch slammed shut.
The quiet lasted a heartbeat.
Then a click. Another.
The deep groan of chains being pulled.
Old gears creaked, and slowly painfully slowly the gate began to open.
Light burst through the cracks, white and blinding, cutting through the black like fire.
I raised my arm to shield my eyes.
The others did the same.
The brightness spilled forward, warm and alive like a breath pushing the darkness away.
When I finally opened my eyes, the air caught in my throat.
The tunnel opened into something monstrous.
It was a vast cavern, but the walls looked like flesh smooth, veined, muscular and beneath them, wires and cables grew like roots feeding off an infection.
Artificial lights hung from the ceiling, connected to humming generators.
The floor trembled faintly, as if something massive was moving deep below.
People walked among the metal and glass structures, built along passages that looked disturbingly organic, like arteries.
Some looked human.
Others didn't.
Some had metal plates fused to their skin.
Others bore limbs replaced by mechanical extensions, tubes running from their bodies into the walls.
It was impossible to tell where flesh ended and machine began.
The air reeked of oil, blood, and formaldehyde.
At the center of the chamber, something glowed under the white light a transparent sphere, suspended by thick cables.
Inside it floated a body.
I couldn't tell if it was male, female, or even human.
Its face was obscured by wires and tubes connecting it to the living walls.
I knew I had never been here before, yet something deep inside me resonated a faint vibration, like remembering a dream you were never supposed to.
The sensation came and vanished in an instant, but it left my chest hollow.
I took a step forward, mesmerized.
The captain caught my shoulder.
"Welcome to the Eastern Final Line," she said softly, her eyes glowing with a mix of pride and sorrow. "The last city of the Order of the Three Fears."
I barely heard her.
Because in that moment, the purple screen appeared again only this time, tinged with red.
[NEW MISSION DETECTED]
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