It had been more than six months since the last real fight.
Zero leaned against the decayed frame of an old dining room window, watching the dull red sky ripple with lightning above the upside-down forest. The air felt heavier now—more charged, more... aware. He could sense it in the movements of the creatures. They weren't just wild anymore. They were watching, testing, adapting.
Like they were preparing for something.
He wiped the grime from his hand across the broken glass, sighing. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, watching a cluster of spore-filled shadows slither near the treeline. "This place doesn't sleep."
The Demodogs were faster lately. Smarter. More patient.
Something—or someone—was teaching them.
And in the deepest corner of his mind, Zero couldn't shake the thought: 001 is still here.
The name sent a cold flicker down his spine—not from fear, but from memory. He didn't fear that man. Never had. But he respected the sheer presence of him. Even back then, when Zero was barely five, he'd known: 001 wasn't like the others. And 001 knew it too.
He closed his eyes and let the memory unfold.
It was the day everything shifted.
Zero sat on a bench inside the sterile white hallway of the lab, legs swinging freely. He had only been at the facility a few months, and everything was still new—the tests, the training, the cold breakfast trays with numbers instead of names.
That's when he saw him. 001.
He looked older than the rest of them—maybe twenty-three or twenty-four at the time—but his expression carried something colder than age. It wasn't cruelty. It wasn't even disdain.
It was disinterest.
He barely looked at Zero. Just passed by like he wasn't even there. But that split second—Zero had seen his eyes.
And behind them?
Calculation. Intent. Purpose.
He wasn't just a test subject. He was searching for something. Always had been. Something among the children. Something he hadn't found.
Zero remembered sitting still on the bench, his young mind processing the encounter not with fear—but with instinct.
This guy? He plays a long game.
001 never showed interest in Zero. Never taunted or threatened him directly. But Zero had seen how he interacted with others—his brothers and sisters. The manipulation, the careful words, the glances that made some kids flinch and others look away. He had been planting seeds for something even then.
And then… came the incident.
That day would never leave Zero's memory.
A hallway scorched with red warning lights. Screams. Panic. A thick door locking shut.
The aftermath was worse than the event itself.
Several of his brothers and sisters didn't make it. One of them—a boy who used to hum while brushing his teeth—was gone. Just like that.
Zero sat alone in the ruined house within the Upside Down realm, fists clenched, eyes wide, whispering that name like a curse as the memory of that night returned—vivid and unshakable.
Henry.
That was 001's name before he became what he is now.
Zero had never forgiven himself for that night. Not because of what 001 did—but because deep down, he hated that he couldn't save all of them.
He had managed to get a few out—just enough to keep his conscience from collapsing entirely.
But his brothers and sisters… he could still hear their voices. Still see their faces.He should have done more. Anything.
But he couldn't.
The guilt stuck to him like blood that wouldn't wash away. Anger simmered beneath his calm—not only at 001, but at himself.
Not even toward Eleven.
He remembered her—his sister in all but blood. Her quiet smiles, her confused eyes, her struggle to understand this cruel world they'd been thrown into. She was different too. Powerful. But she was just a child, like the rest of them.
And even now, trapped in this cursed dimension for years, Zero had never blamed her for what happened. he made this choice.
Lightning cracked again outside, dragging him back into the present. The house he was squatting in groaned with each pulse, as if the walls themselves were tired of standing.
"Three and a half years," he muttered, pacing the ruined hallway. "And they're still coming. Still changing."
He paused, staring at a bloodstained wall covered in scratch marks—too organized for a beast. More like commands.
Orders.
From someone who knew how to give them.
His gaze sharpened.
"Henry," he said under his breath. "You're still here… aren't you?"
He turned toward the open door and stepped out into the dead forest, hands glowing faintly.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.