The light flickered—dying—filtering through the rusted metal sheets of the ceiling.
It reeked of burnt flesh, old oil, and despair clinging to every corner.
Cold moisture clung to his back, but he couldn't move.
Eiden opened one eye.
Or tried to.
How long had it been? A couple of days, maybe—between drifting in and out of consciousness.
A ring of pressure clamped around his skull: an old, sparking neural restraint band.
Each jolt from the device ripped thoughts from his mind like flies caught in a trap.
His wrists were bound with magnetized straps to an improvised containment chair—frankensteined from broken surveillance drones and wartime scrap.
Around him… hell.
Dead advertisement lights flickered against cracked concrete walls, littered with rebel graffiti, illegal QR codes, and anti-corp slogans like war tattoos.
Malformed, reprogrammed androids stood guard in the shadows, patched together with wires and third-rate parts.
They had more scars than function.
They had plugged him into the building's electrical system.
He was part of the circuit now.
Every heartbeat that kept him conscious was a miscalculation.
A constant buzzing filled his ears.
The bracelet—his living curse—vibrated against his left wrist.
His bruised forearm, streaked with dried blood, betrayed his captors' failed attempts to rip it off.
He bitterly thanked them for not opting for amputation.
Not yet.
Something clung to his skin—alive, hungrier than ever.
The entity trapped in the bracelet whispered, winding its voice around his thoughts.
"Agony's worse than death, Eiden… Why do you keep resisting me?"
A distorted laugh echoed from the shadows. Heavy boots clanked against metal flooring.
Grunts. Subnet scum.
Sold to corporations for a handful of chromes.
They spared the suits from breathing the air of forgotten neighborhoods.
Though their work was only slightly more reliable than the chair he was strapped to.
—Look at him, boys. The hero of the junkyards, — said one, crouching before him.
His face was a horror show—cheap implants protruding from ulcerated skin, cables crawling along his cheeks, and a mechanical eye that buzzed like a trapped fly.
Another approached—smaller, with a misaligned hydraulic arm dragging a lit welder behind him.
—What do you think, Noma? Should we take a few fingers? They pay extra when they cry.
Noma let out a raspy laugh, revealing chipped titanium teeth.
—Nah. This one's special— He leaned in close to Eiden. —The suits want him in one piece. We're shipping him straight to Eden.
The word hit him like a sledgehammer.
"Eden" wasn't paradise. It was Forced Virtualization.
A one-way trip.
A final soul wipe—sold off as digital labor.
Eiden tried to move.
Error.
The living cables in his back detected the neural spark from his muscles—and responded.
A brutal shock shot down his spine, making him scream silently, jaw clenched against the pain.
"Let go..." whispered the voice in his head, sweeter than any drug
"Just die already."
But no.
Not like that.
Not chained in a forgotten basement, beneath a city he no longer remembered the name of.
—What did the poor bastard even do? — asked the one with the welder.
Noma chuckled, leaning in to look him dead in the eyes.
—Do you even know what you did, boy— He spat on his face. —Orotech was fattening up that site real good. Do you have any idea what it cost to set it up?
Eiden grinned, weak but defiant, tasting the iron of his own blood.
—It's ash now. Worth every damn chrom-
The sentence died in another shock that arched his back against the chair.
He didn't scream. Just bit down and locked eyes with Noma's lifeless ones.
—You still wanna talk, boy— Noma mocked, reaching to deliver another jolt.
Deep down, Eiden knew—this wasn't about survival anymore.
This was about resistance.
And then—
An explosion shook the structure.
The ceiling groaned like a wounded beast, and a shower of molten sparks rained down, momentarily lighting the twisted faces of his captors—faces carved by misery and violence, now gripped by panic.
The generator died with an electric sigh.
Darkness swallowed them.
Rusty, shrieking alarms began wailing like a building begging for a proper death.
Through the smoke, a silhouette emerged.
Eiden's head pounded like a war drum.
Through the fog of pain and disorientation, he could see her.
A figure moved among the thugs like a shadow slicing wind.
She didn't walk—she danced.
Each motion was precise. Lethal. Perfect.
Her combat jacket shimmered under the flickering light, hugging her form through every deadly spin. Reinforced boots pounded the metal floor as an improvised plasma rifle flashed lightning from her hands.
Who was she?
How could she move like that?
"Breach?!—" shouted the one with the welder, fumbling for his gun.
Too late.
A dry shot cracked the air.
Eiden saw his mechanical arm explode in a shower of wires and hydraulic fluid.
Another shot hit Noma in the shoulder. He dropped to his knees, groaning as his weapon skittered away.
He glanced at Eiden, confused—
Then the plasma rifle drilled into his chest. Done.
Chaos erupted.
Screams. Gunfire. Orders shouted into the void.
Even the androids turned on their masters.
And she—the intruder—slipped through it all like a ghost.
When the flickering lights illuminated hell again, a second figure appeared.
Shorter. Broader. Backpack full of sparking devices.
His magnification goggles made him look like a deranged mechanic.
—Hey Lyra! Can I leave Peter in the reactor motors? — he joked, releasing a spider-legged drone that scurried up a blackened wall.
—Only if you wanna blow up half the damn Subnet! — the girl shot back, unfurling a calypso-hued plasma knife that lit her fierce, beautiful face.
She looked at him—through the smoke and chaos.
Deep blue eyes scanned him.
She smiled.
Faint. But real.
And returned to the fight.
Eiden watched her slice through robotic limbs, fire plasma bursts, and plunge her knife into exposed torsos—moving like chaos was her native language.
Who were they?
It didn't matter.
They were the only light in that pit.
Gunfire thinned. Lyra ran toward him.
She tore the cables from his back, ignoring the shocks that sparked across her arms.
Her plasma blade sliced the restraint band free, and Eiden collapsed forward—
She caught him.
—Krev! — she yelled to her companion.
The mechanic tossed her a thick jacket, which she threw over Eiden's shoulders.
Even in his semi-conscious state, Eiden instinctively hid the bracelet from their view.
—Can you walk?
His body trembled. He wasn't sure if he nodded or shook his head.
Didn't matter.
—Then you'll survive — she muttered, tense.
She lifted him effortlessly, bracing him against her shoulder with raw strength.
As they fled, Krev covered them.
He launched makeshift explosives, tossed drones like party favors.
More grunts spilled from corridors and wall gaps.
Lyra didn't hesitate.
Each bullet was a sentence.
Each movement, a death-dance.
Krev planted a final charge on the generator.
—Jessica's gonna sing, baby…—he whispered, unleashing another spider drone toward the core.
His eyes locked with Eiden's.
No malice—just a quick wink and a conspiratorial grin.
—You're gonna love this.
Lyra dragged him through twisted corridors of the abandoned factory, where broken pipes hissed like wounded serpents and dying warning beacons sputtered out one by one.
Her movements were confident, practiced.
Like she'd memorized every inch of that nest.
Eiden's mind wavered.
The bracelet pulsed erratically, like the thing inside sensed the urgency—feeding on chaos, whispering louder:
"Let them die… Stay with me… I'm the only eternal…"
No.
Not yet.
A muffled, deep boom shook the foundations behind them.
A heatwave rushed the corridor.
The plant was collapsing.
—GO, GO, GO! — Krev yelled, grinning like a kid who'd just lit a firework factory.
They dove through a side hatch—old, rusted—kicked open by Lyra's reinforced boot.
They barely cleared it before a fireball swallowed the hallway.
They hit the asphalt of an alleyway, under a sky drenched in dying neon.
Acid rain hissed on metal.
After catching her breath, Lyra laid Eiden gently against a wall and knelt beside him.
Her chest rose and fell quickly; raindrops slid down her sharp features—worried, focused.
Krev appeared behind her, laughing, his eyes bright.
—You're tougher than they said. Or just more stubborn. I like stubborn.
Lyra silenced him with a gesture.
She pulled out a syringe.
—This will help… but I need you to trust me, Eiden.
She knew his name.
Of course she did.
They must've had good intel to find and rescue him.
He just hoped they didn't know everything.
Trust…
The bracelet hissed betrayal.
But Lyra's gaze wasn't one he'd seen before.
Not ownership.
Not pity.
It was fire.
It was war.
Eiden nodded—barely.
She smiled.
Injected him.
A cold fire coursed through his veins.
His vision glitched—rainbows of static—then snapped into clarity.
—Welcome back—Lyra whispered.
Behind them, the last sparks of the factory devoured the final traces of his prison.
—Why? — he asked, still weak.
—There'll be time —she said, standing.
Krev grinned.
—Unless you wanna stay here and gamble your luck— he joked, as another wall behind them collapsed in a burst of flame.
Lyra grabbed Eiden's arm.
—For now, you don't have a choice— she said flatly.
And dragged him forward.
Eiden glanced at her, then at Krev. In this state, he had few options—but even then, he was evaluating escape routes.
They reached a dented fence.
A modified drifter waited on the other side.
The machine growled, its engines screeching, steam puffing from its vents like an impatient beast.
The driver—a weathered older man with silver-streaked hair—held a heavy pistol.
—You overdid the explosives again, Krev! —he roared, watching flames rise from the structure.
His greenish visor glowed under the rain, reflecting the ongoing destruction behind them.
The buzz of drones—and something larger—put them on edge.
They ran—Eiden dragged between them—toward the vehicle.
Lyra sliced the fence with her plasma knife. The drifter's doors burst open.
She pushed him into the back seat.
Krev climbed in laughing, like a kid in a weapon fair.
The driver didn't wait.
The drifter roared and shot forward.
The world blurred into broken lights and rotting concrete.
A wall opened behind them.
A swarm of drones buzzed in pursuit.
An enemy drifter followed, packed with armed grunts.
Lyra pushed Eiden down in the seat, covering him, while Krev moved to the front, rifle ready.
—Hold on— muttered the driver.
The drifter lifted with a heavy hum.
The first shots whizzed past them.
Energy beams struck the vehicle, tearing chunks from its plating.
—Bastards! — the driver cursed, swerving to dodge incoming fire.
—They're gaining on us! — shouted Lyra, shooting back with sharp precision.
She shattered the rear window.
Damaged a drone's stabilizer.
—Aim for the lower generators — the driver barked, weaving through chaotic air traffic and energy blasts.
Lyra nodded, lips tight.
As the driver made a hard turn to shake the pursuers, she and Krev fired alternately at the drones.
One spiraled out of the sky, exploding in a shower of sparks and twisted metal.
But the enemy drifter stayed on them.
A nimble drone fired from below, striking the rear stabilizers.
The cabin rattled violently.
—We're hit! — yelled the driver. —We'll crash unless someone takes them out!
Eiden sat up, breath steadier now, determination flashing in his eyes.
Without a word, he reached for Lyra's waist, grabbing the pistol holstered at her side.
His fingers trembled, but his aim was steady.
She tried to stop him.
"Wait, don't—!"
Eiden flung the side door open.
The night wind whipped his face.
Halfway out, gripping the frame with one hand, he aimed with the other.
He locked onto the drone at the center of the formation.
His gaze zeroed in on its underbelly—where the main generator was barely protected by a translucent polymer shield.The bracelet clenched around his wrist.
A voice whispered in his mind.
And he knew where to shoot.
He pulled the trigger.
Direct hit.
The drone exploded, taking several others with it.
Eiden collapsed back inside.
Breathing hard, but eyes glowing with triumph.
—Maybe I should gamble more often— he muttered.
—Absolutely sublime— Krev commented, still firing at the enemy vehicle.
—Nice shot— Lyra added, reaching for the weapon.
Eiden handed it back with a soft apology.
—Sorry.
—You'll have your moment—she said.
Eiden studied her.
Strong jawline. A few freckles crossing the tops of her cheekbones.
Her deep blue eyes narrowed with deadly focus when she aimed.
A thin scar ran through her left eyebrow—experience cutting through youth.
She wore a tactical vest that outlined her figure over a black base layer.
A strip of exposed skin along her midriff broke the suit's continuity—a calculated imperfection.
Her gloves were dark leather, fingerless—revealing hands roughened by labor and combat.
Not fragile. Skilled. Scarred with purpose.
Her long hair—a curious mix of soft pink and muted violet—fell wildly down her back and shoulders.
Under the drifter's cold lights, the colors shimmered like iridescent smoke, shifting with each motion.
Strands framed her face with rough elegance, contrasting her battle gear.
Its texture—soft, unruly—moved as freely as her calculating gaze.
The bracelet pulsed with icy pain up his arm, stabbing his skull.
"She'll die in agony for saving you… I don't like the way you look at her… I think I hate her."
He didn't let that show.
Instead, he turned to the window.
Focused.
—At this rate, we won't lose them — the driver growled.
Krev leaned forward.
—What if we hit the main artery? It's got detectors. If their gear's military, they won't risk it.
The driver—Pierre—snorted.
—Since when do you give ideas? Last time, we landed in a fermented seafood market.
—Hey, nothing shocks you after smelling pickled eel — Krev said. —Besides, it worked.
—Only because the old lady smashed frozen tuna on the agent's face.
—Details— Krev waved it off.
Lyra scoffed, still shooting.
—Can we argue after we're not about to die?
—Fine— Pierre said. —But only because I prefer holes in my jacket to holes in my skull.
The drifter veered sharply toward the aerial traffic artery.
Eiden studied the group dynamic.
Now was the time to ask—
Until something hit him like a freezing hammer.
He sat up, just as they approached the artery's gate—where vehicles diverged into air lanes.
—No— Eiden muttered, reaching out and grabbing Pierre's shoulder—rougher than he meant to.
—What the hell are you doing, kid? —Pierre growled.
—I'm sorry…—Eiden said softly. —We can't go in there.
His voice was too serious.
And he realized the way he held the driver looked more like a threat.
When he looked up, Lyra's hand hovered near her plasma knife—eyes cold, calculating.
He let go. Sat back.
—We'll get detected too— he said firmly.
Slowly, he raised his left hand and rolled up the borrowed jacket's sleeve.
Avoided their eyes—ashamed of what he was about to show.
The bracelet on his wrist looked forged from nightmares more than metal.
Its cracked surface pulsed turquoise and violet lightning—like a storm caged in a shard of steel.
The fractures throbbed in rhythm—neither flesh nor circuit.
Dark tendrils—too organic for wires, too mechanical for veins—wrapped from its edges, gripping his skin like sick roots feeding on something unseen.
The aged alloy frame was scarred—dented, scratched… but deeper than that.
It had been eaten away by something invisible over time.
Not just a failed experiment.
A curse.
An involuntary pact—sealed the day Eiden chose to live…
…in exchange for carrying what he once loved.
Lyra stared at the bracelet, her expression hardening—doubt and a flicker of fear in her eyes.
—What... is that? — she whispered, as if afraid of giving the question voice.