Field faded behind them, swallowed by the low, humming pressure of the metro's deeper levels. The corridor ahead was ribbed with cables that pulsed faintly — like veins under bruised skin. Netoshka scanned forward with her rifle raised, the dim cone of her flashlight cutting through drifting ash-mist.
"Stay tight," she whispered.
"This part wasn't on the map."
Rue swallowed, clutching her tablet and keeping close.
"None of this was on any map."
Taran limped but kept pace, his breath harsh, the Wire corruption pulsing faint and sick beneath the collar of his suit. Genrihk supported him from the side, glancing at every shadow that moved.
They followed the narrowing corridor until it widened abruptly into a sealed steel bulkhead door. Painted in peeling white above it were the words:
NEW HORIZON → CENTRAL OPERATIONS
Netoshka froze.
"… New Horizon?"
Circe brushed past, her wings flickering softly.
"That defunct biocorp? Didn't Zopi say they went under after the Kraustein incident?"
Genrihk slid forward and inspected the rusted touchpad.
"Went under, yes. But Kraustein didn't." He tapped the metal. "This reeks of his work."
Rue connected her pad to the port. Sparks snapped.
"Door's on partial power—give me one sec—"
A rumble shook the walls. Zev flinched.
"More Vitraspawns?"
"No," Surgien murmured.
"Something heavier."
A final beep. The bulkhead split with a groan and rolled open.
Inside was a cavernous, dome-shaped control center — layered with catwalks, control terminals, broken observation screens, and glass tubes filled with congealed blue residue. Some tubes were shattered. Others still vibrated like something had clawed from the inside… recently.
Twila stepped in slowly, her voice a whisper.
"It's like a hive…"
Netoshka raised her light.
"Move."
The room came alive with ghostly reflections. Frozen corpses in lab coats slumped over consoles. Every surface was marked with Kraustein's personal insignia — the circle of interlinked vertebrae.
Rue gasped.
"These terminals—these aren't for trains. This was a nerve hub. Everything in the tunnels routes back here."
Zev pointed to the largest screen — cracked but displaying faint blinking nodes.
"Looks like it's tracking something…"
"It's tracking us," Genrihk muttered.
Twila wandered toward a bank of consoles.
"Maybe we can reroute power—"
A sharp click echoed from above.
Netoshka's hand shot up.
"Twila, stop."
But it was too late.
The lights surged on.
Terminals rebooted one by one. Cold white. Then sickly blue. Then a voice — a fractured, stuttering artificial tone — filled the dome.
"—OPERATIONS CORE REINITIALIZED—
—WELCOME BACK, DR. KRAUSTEIN—"
Netoshka's blood chilled.
"…He's not here. He's here again but isn't he dead?."
Rue's screens scrambled violently.
"Guys—something's overriding my device—"
The central chamber's floor slowly opened, splitting into triangular segments. Viscous blue gel oozed upward, swirling like the beginning of a storm.
Genrihk stepped back.
"That's not gel—"
"No…" Zopi whispered. "It's assembling."
From the rising fluid, fragments of metal, bone, and writhing tendrils snapped together, magnetized by some unseen will. In seconds, a towering, skeletal construct took shape — ribcage of wire and plating, skull like a warped train conductor's mask fused to a beast's jaw.
A failed Kraustein Guardian — a prototype sentinel, half-machine, half-organic experiment.
And very much alive.
Its voice gurgled through broken speakers sewn into its throat:
"—SECURITY PROTOCOL: ELIMINATE—"
Netoshka slammed her heel into the floor and barked,
"Positions! Kill it before it stabilizes!"
The Guardian lunged, cables snapping from its spine like lashes.
Zev opened fire. Taran roared and charged despite his injury. Circe dove overhead slashing wires. Rue tried to gain command of the systems again as sparks burst from her pad.
Netoshka vaulted over a railing, landing hard near the lower catwalk and firing upward.
"Bring it down before it uplinks to the whole tunnel grid!"
The Guardian let out a warped train-horn shriek.
The fight for the Operations Room had begun.
And whatever secrets Kraustein buried here were no longer sleeping.