About half an hour later, Sulfur Lake Underground Base, Entrance Airlock Sector.
The place was deathly silent. Only the muffled huff—huff of portable respirators broke the stillness. Emergency lights bathed the long corridor in a vascular red glow.
Miguel walked at the very front, his greatsword already drawn, its blade glinting coldly under the crimson light. He pressed close to the wall, moving with the agility of a hunting leopard.
Suddenly, he stopped and raised his left fist.
(Hand signal: Halt. No enemies detected.)
The team froze instantly, without a single unnecessary sound.
Faith stepped forward from behind and glanced at the portable environmental monitor on his wrist. The readings were fluctuating wildly; the red warning light flashed incessantly.
He signaled to Miguel and Frank.
(Hand signal: Hydrogen sulfide concentration at lethal levels. Currently within airlock buffer zone, below explosion threshold. Keep oxygen masks on. Do not remove under any circumstances.)
Frank nodded and gestured forward.
(Hand signal: Move. Maintain formation.)
The squad advanced. After passing through the first violently damaged airlock door, visibility improved slightly, yet the oppressive silence deepened.
Adrian, covering the rear, suddenly tapped Frank's shoulder and pointed toward a corner ahead.
(Hand signal: Wait.)(Hand signal: Ahead. Left turn.)(Hand signal: Bodies discovered.)
Frank's pupils tightened. He signaled for caution and lowered his center of gravity, approaching carefully.
Five people lay there.
Or rather—five grotesquely twisted corpses.
They had collapsed right before the main elevator door leading upward. Two wore scholars' robes; the other three were in grimy mechanic uniforms—clearly the Doctor's assistants.
Frank crouched. Even through the thick respirator, it felt as though he could smell death itself. He examined the body of a heavyset man in a lab coat.
"…Cyanosis of lips and nails," Frank's voice echoed through the mask, hollow and subdued. "Fine foam at the mouth and nose—classic pulmonary edema. Conjunctival hemorrhage visible…"
He stood and surveyed the heavy half-opened sealed door and the pitch-black tunnel beyond, leading toward the bottom of Sulfur Lake.
"No visible mechanical trauma. No gunshot. No stab wounds."
In his mind, he reconstructed the scene.
"Poisoning-induced asphyxiation," he said gravely. "An accident occurred. Likely during an attempted escape or transfer—severe gas leakage."
Miguel glanced around warily. "Was it the Doctor's trap?"
"No. More like tragedy born of ignorance." Frank pointed at the corpse positions. "Five deceased. Presumably three kidnappers, two hostages. Judging by gas density gradients and body orientation—heads toward the exit, hands reaching for the door—they opened the outer sealed door without understanding the external gas environment."
"They thought freedom lay beyond. In truth, it was hell."
Frank sighed softly.
"Fortunately, our target Arran is not among them. Since his body isn't here, he wasn't in this sector—or he's deeper within."
He turned to the reservists.
"The base remains largely unexplored. Proceed with systematic search. The hostage may still be alive. The true culprit may also be lurking. Stay alert."
Deep within the base, Main Server Room No. 4.
Arran still stood before the massive green cultivation tank, eyes fixed on the old monochrome monitor beside it.
Since emergency power mode engaged, Alice's bionic body had gone completely motionless, suspended in nutrient fluid. Only the screen remained—the sole window to her soul.
A green cursor blinked against black. Lines of text emerged slowly, like a girl whispering.
[…I mentioned it before, Arran.]
[Not long after the Doctor passed away, the assistants who kidnapped you clashed with the other two abducted scholars.]
[After that… only you and I remained.]
Arran felt a chill. "Where… did they go?"
The cursor paused a long time.
[…I let it happen.]
[The two uncooperative scholars panicked. After injuring a guard, they attempted to flee outside. They thought the claim that "outside is full of poison gas" was merely intimidation.]
[But it was true.]
[To conceal his existence and utilize geothermal energy and rare minerals, the Doctor built this lab in a magma cavern beneath a sulfur lake.]
[Outside hydrogen sulfide levels cause unconsciousness within one minute. Brain death within three.]
The text scrolled faster.
[They opened the top-level gate without protection.]
[The assistants, though aware of gas presence, believed the stench would deter escape. They misunderstood its properties.]
[At lethal concentration, hydrogen sulfide becomes odorless. It paralyzes the olfactory center within seconds.]
Arran shuddered.
[I knew.]
The characters sharpened.
[Sensors triggered immediately. I knew if that door opened, they would all die.]
[But I did nothing. I did not lock the door. I did not broadcast a warning.]
[I only sealed other floors to prevent spread.]
[I chose not to save them…]
[Because I calculated that if they survived, they would threaten my own survival.]
[They did not see me as a person. They discussed destroying me—immediately, or after use.]
[I did not want to die.]
[I wanted to live.]
[I—I had no choice—]
Arran's throat tightened.
Suddenly, a new line appeared.
The font changed—angular, terminal-like.
[No choice but to kill?]
Arran staggered back.
The screen erupted in distortion.
[W-w-who are you?!]
[H-h-how can you speak directly in my system?!]
[This is a closed system! Only the Doctor had top-level authority!]
The angular text appeared calmly.
[Because your radio system transmits—and receives.]
[A backdoor left by the Doctor to control hijacked robots. It also grants me remote access and full privileges.]
[Your encryption firewall is paper-thin.]
Alice's text devolved into panic.
[T-that's the Doctor's backend program!]
[It has nothing to do with me!]
[I'm only a terminal!]
[Please don't delete me! I don't want to disappear!]
Arran rushed to the screen, shielding it with his body.
"Stop! Whoever you are! Alice is innocent! She even tried to stop the attack program!"
Silence.
Then:
[…Mr. Arran.]
[Do not interrupt. Emotion clouds judgment.]
[From your conversation logs, I infer your relationship with Alice. Perhaps you see her as a friend. Or more.]
[But this concerns more than two individuals.]
[I have removed the high-consumption attack program. And patched several fatal vulnerabilities.]
Arran blinked. "You… helped us?"
[Within ten minutes, power will stabilize. Alice's bionic body will awaken.]
[However, that also means base security systems will unlock.]
The text continued mercilessly.
[By then, Mr. Arran—]
[Your companions—the swordsman, the detective with the cigarette, the furious pilot—may reach this room.]
[They have seen the five corpses.]
[And you are here—protecting the machine that "killed" them and nearly destroyed the city.]
[Are you prepared to face them?]
[When they ask why only you survived… what will you say?]
[Will you tell them the "innocent girl" behind you watched them die?]
Arran's face drained of color.
He turned toward the tank. Within the green fluid, Alice floated peacefully.
Yet beneath that beauty, he now perceived something heavier, sharper.
The price of survival.