The Reconstruction Unit was close, close enough that Nero could feel its presence vibrating through the soles of his feet with each distant impact echoing like a countdown he couldn't stop.
Helia pulled him sharply into a side passage with her movements precise despite the urgency, as though instinct had long since replaced panic.
Nero followed without question while his body obeyed even as his mind lagged behind, still trapped in the image of the cracked stasis pod and the faint, trembling echo that had brushed against his thoughts.
Stay alive.
Someone had whispered that to him once. Someone who might no longer exist.
He tore his attention away as they entered a narrower chamber that looked like an abandoned laboratory. Dangling wires hung from the ceiling like dead vines while ancient monitors sat dark and dust-choked along the walls. The air was colder here and sharp with the scent of rust and long-dormant power cores.
Nero finally broke the silence with his voice hoarse. "We keep moving from one place to another. No escape. Just more painful truths."
Helia didn't stop scanning the room as she answered. "The Archive is built on secrets," she said quietly. "Escaping it was never going to be easy."
She gestured toward the far end of the room. "We'll break through the maintenance ducts on the north side. If we're lucky, the Unit hasn't mapped the old schematics."
Nero didn't respond. He couldn't.
His gaze had locked onto a small terminal at the far end of the chamber, a dust-covered monitor flickering weakly and sustained by residual power that should have died years ago. The sight of it pulled at him with an invisible force while something deep in his chest responded before his mind could reason it away.
"Nero?" Helia called while sensing the shift.
He didn't answer. He walked toward the terminal.
Helia followed quickly with concern sharpening her voice. "Don't. Those terminals connect to the old prototype network. They could trigger..."
The screen lit up before she could finish.
Teal lines spread across the dark display and resolved into the silhouette of a small, trembling child. Beneath it, text flickered into clarity.
PROTOTYPE 11
STATUS: FAILED
ACCESS: RESTRICTED PLAYBACK AVAILABLE
Nero felt the breath leave his lungs.
Prototype Eleven. The one before him.
Helia reached out and rested her hand lightly on his arm. "Nero, you don't have to watch this."
"Yes," he whispered. "I do."
His fingers hovered over the screen while trembling. He knew that once he pressed play, there would be no turning back.
"It could break you," Helia said softly.
"So could not knowing," Nero replied. His voice was steadier than he felt.
He pressed the screen.
Static flared violently and then resolved into a dimly lit chamber, smaller than the one he'd seen before but unmistakably similar. A containment pod sat at its center with glass cracked and fogged.
Inside, a child curled into himself.
Dark hair. Thin arms wrapped tightly around small knees.
Prototype Eleven.
Nero's stomach twisted as the recorded voice filled the room, fragile and desperate.
"It hurts... I don't want to... please don't..."
Helia's expression softened with grief written openly across her face.
The recording flickered.
A second voice cut through, mechanical and flat and devoid of mercy.
"Synchronization instability at eighty-four percent. Cognitive collapse imminent."
The child sobbed with small hands pushing weakly against the pod's glass.
"Please... someone... I don't want to disappear..."
Pressure built behind Nero's eyes, not tears but something heavier, something that pulsed with each frightened word.
"Stop," Helia whispered. "Nero, you don't have to—"
But he couldn't move.
The recording continued as the child's voice broke apart with words dissolving into sobs.
"Please don't make me... I don't want to—"
The screen cut abruptly to static.
Then a single line appeared.
ERASURE COMPLETED
Nero's knees gave out.
Helia caught him instantly and pulled him against her as his body shook. He clutched her jacket with fingers digging into the fabric as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
"He was a child," Nero whispered, his voice breaking. "He was scared. And they..."
Helia wrapped both arms around him and held him tightly. "I'm sorry," she said, and the words sounded painfully inadequate.
"Why did they keep trying?" Nero choked. "Why did they let him suffer like that?"
"Because the Architect wanted a perfect core," Helia answered softly. "A stable subject. He didn't see children. He saw iterations."
"And I was the first one he didn't lose," Nero said hollowly.
Her grip tightened. "You are not his."
"But I was built for him."
"No," Helia said fiercely. "You survived because of you. Not because of him."
Nero pulled back slowly. His eyes were red, but something new burned behind them. Not fear.
Anger. Quiet, focused, and dangerous.
"What happened to Prototype Eleven will not happen to me," he said lowly.
Helia nodded. "It won't."
"And I won't let it happen to anyone else."
The room shook violently before she could respond. Dust rained from the ceiling as metal screamed somewhere beyond the walls.
A massive limb burst through the far side of the chamber as concrete exploded outward and a clawed appendage tore its way in.
The Reconstruction Unit had caught up.
Helia's face drained of color. "We have to move. Now."
Nero tore his eyes from the terminal and ran as the Unit forced its way through the wall with its optical sensor igniting in cold blue light.
"PROTOTYPE TWELVE DETECTED."
"RETRIEVAL PRIORITY: CRITICAL."
Helia shoved him toward a side door. "Go!"
They sprinted through the connecting passage as the Unit smashed through obstacles without slowing, its advance relentless and methodical.
"Nero!" Helia shouted over the chaos. "Don't use Veyra yet—it'll pinpoint your location!"
"I know," he replied with breath ragged.
But the Unit was gaining ground.
It didn't rush. It advanced like a collapsing structure, unstoppable and uncaring, tearing the Archive apart to reach him.
They turned into a service tunnel lined with old power conduits. Helia skidded to a stop at a dead end.
"No—" Nero began.
"There's a hidden exit," Helia snapped while slamming her baton against panels. "Give me a second."
The footsteps thundered closer.
Metal groaned. Screws rattled loose.
"Helia!" Nero shouted.
"Almost!"
A maintenance hatch slid open.
Helia shoved him inside. "Go! Don't look back!"
He scrambled into the narrow shaft. "Helia, hurry!"
She followed just as the Unit reached them with a massive claw slamming into the wall beside the hatch. Pipes burst as sparks rained down and metal screamed.
Nero grabbed her arm and dragged her fully inside as the hatch sealed shut behind them.
They slid down the shaft and crashed into a lower chamber in a cloud of dust.
Helia grabbed his face immediately. "Are you hurt?!"
He shook his head. "Are you?"
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice shook. Then she pulled him close with her forehead pressing against his. "We're not stopping. Not now."
Nero nodded.
Behind them, the Reconstruction Unit roared, a mechanical howl that shook the floor while energy discharges tore through the structure.
They ran.
Not from fear. Not from confusion. But from determination. Nero refused to become Prototype Eleven. He refused to be anyone's creation. Especially the Architect's.