Kill me.
The word had no sound, yet it echoed in my skull louder than any gunshot.
Lieutenant Vargas — the man who had interrogated me, pursued me, and finally tried to save me — looked at me from his glass tank. His eyes were no longer human; they were wells of absolute suffering. The machine at his throat pumped the golden fluid, tearing life from him second by second, turning him into an empty shell to feed the Syndicate's vices.
The hydraulic lift behind me grew louder. Ssshhh-thump. Someone was coming down. Or up. It didn't matter. Time had run out.
"Eduur…" Sofía whimpered, tugging at my pants. "Let's go. We can't help him."
I looked at the gun in my hand — the Nightmare .45.
The black metal vibrated against my palm. This was not a warning vibration now. It was a hunger. The weapon felt Vargas's agony and wanted it.
Anima, from the depths of my subconscious, said nothing. He didn't have to. He had given me the tool. The sin would be mine.
"I'm sorry, Vargas," I whispered.
I raised the gun. My hands didn't shake. The artificial cold of the pistol steadied my pulse, freezing my morality.
I aimed at the lieutenant's chest, through the reinforced glass. He nodded slightly. A tear of blood rolled down his gray cheek.
I pulled the trigger.
There wasn't the shriek of the earlier shots.
This time the gun sighed. A soft, almost liquid shadow round slid from the barrel. It broke the glass without a sound — like a stone passing through a lake's surface — and struck Vargas in the sternum.
I closed my eyes, bracing for horror. Expecting to see the shadow devour him, dissolve him into black sludge like the gargoyles.
But there were no screams.
"Thank you…"
I opened my eyes. The shadow wasn't violently consuming him. It was covering him like a heavy, cold blanket. The extraction machine halted. The golden fluid stopped flowing.
Vargas closed his eyes. The expression of pain softened. His body turned translucent, becoming gray smoke that was drawn inward by the impact of the bullet — inward, into nothing.
In a second, the chamber was empty. No body. No blood.
Only silence.
Then the blow hit me. Not physical — emotional.
A wave of relief, gratitude, and infinite sorrow coursed through my arm, climbed my shoulder, and exploded in my brain. The gun had absorbed his death. And it was transmitting it to me.
I fell to my knees, gasping, tears burning my face. I felt his last thought: Protect others.
"Eduur!" Sofía shouted.
A slow, sarcastic clap dragged me out of trance.
---
I turned, still on my knees, the gun dangling from my useless hand.
The elevator doors were open.
No armored soldiers emerged. No nightmare creatures.
A woman stepped out.
She wore an immaculate white business suit, stiletto heels, hair in a severe bun. She held a digital tablet with the same indifferent grip someone holds a cup of coffee.
Flanking her like guard dogs were two men.
Huge, bare to the waist, their skin gray and laced with surgical scars. Most terrifying of all: they had no eyes. Skin had grown over the sockets, smooth and pale. They were Awakened Patients.
"Impressive," the woman said, voice clinical and soft as a surgeon explaining a terminal diagnosis. "Ballistic euthanasia. I didn't expect to see that today."
I staggered to my feet. The gun in my hand felt ten times heavier. It burned, almost red-hot.
"Who are you?" I growled.
She ignored the question, her cold gaze fixed on the pistol.
"A Class-Zero Artifact," she murmured, noting something on her tablet. "Materialization of an autonomous subconscious archetype. We knew you were a Gate, Eduur Vance, but we didn't know you had a Forge in there."
She stepped forward. The two blind giants grunted, muscles tightening.
"Where's Lena?" Sofía yelled, stepping from behind me like a tiny suicide.
The woman looked at the girl as one inspects an interesting lab rat.
"Subject Lena has been processed and transferred. Her vitality was… exquisite. But you, child, have an intriguing resonance. Maybe we should put you in the machine before you grow."
Rage exploded in my chest, sweeping Vargas's sorrow aside.
"You will not touch her!"
I raised the Nightmare .45 and pointed it straight at the woman in white's head. She didn't move. She didn't blink. She only smiled faintly.
"Go ahead. Try it."
I pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing.
I pulled it again. Click. Click.
The gun wouldn't fire. No shadow. No scream. I stared at the pistol, horrified. The carved faces on the barrel shifted slowly, like something chewing. The metal pulsed with a faint golden glow — the same color as Vargas's essence.
"What…?"
"It's full," the woman said in a pedagogical tone. "Your toy just ate an entire human soul, Eduur. It needs to digest. It's a biological weapon, not a mechanical one. You can't fire on a full stomach."
Horror froze me. I had killed my friend to free him — and by doing so I had disarmed myself. My mercy had become a tactical sentence.
"Secure them," the woman ordered with a finger snap.
---
The two Awakened Patients lunged at us. They were fast — too fast for their size.
"Run, Sofía!" I yelled, throwing myself at the first to intercept.
It was like hitting a concrete wall.
The blind giant struck me with the back of his hand. The impact took my breath and hurled me three meters back. I smashed into the glass of an empty cell and hit the floor, spitting blood.
The gun flew from my hand and slid across the polished floor, still glowing with that digestion-gold light — useless and heavy.
I tried to get up, but the giant planted a boot on my chest. It weighed a ton. I felt my ribs crack.
"Let go!" I heard Sofía scream.
I turned my head. The second giant had her by the unicorn backpack, lifting her like a doll. Sofía kicked and bit, but it was useless.
The woman in white approached. She crouched carefully so her suit wouldn't touch the filthy floor and picked up Anima's pistol. She held it with a handkerchief, examining it with scientific fascination.
"Incredible," she whispered. "It feels alive. Hot."
She looked into my eyes.
"I'm Director Kove. And you just became the most valuable asset in this facility. Not because of your sister. But because of this."
She lifted the weapon.
"Give it back to me," I gasped, feeling a hollowing inside my mind. The disconnection from the gun hurt physically, like amputating a phantom limb.
"Oh no. This goes straight to the Lab," Kove said. "We'll figure out how to replicate it. Imagine an army armed with nightmares."
She straightened.
"Take the girl to Level 4. Prepare a containment cell for Mr. Vance. Keep him sedated but conscious. I need his subconscious to remain active."
"Sofía!" I screamed, struggling uselessly under the giant's boot.
The girl looked at me as they carried her to the elevator. She wasn't crying. Her gaze was those old, dark eyes.
"Remember the message, Eduur!" she shouted. "The key opens downward!"
"Silence," the giant said, clapping a huge hand over her mouth.
The elevator doors closed, swallowing Sofía and Director Kove.
I was left alone with the blind giant crushing my chest.
The eyeless man tilted his head, sniffing the air.
"You smell him," he said in a guttural voice.
He raised his fist.
The last thing I saw was a scarred knuckle plunging toward my face at frightening speed.
Then — darkness.