The night sky above Sector 9 glows an unnatural silver.
From the surface, it looks like a graveyard of steel — quiet, dead, forgotten.
But beneath, the pulse of a god hums through the wires.
Ronak and Nira descend into the heart of Helios Tower, moving through vent shafts lined with biometric scanners and flickering light.
The air grows heavier, dense with electromagnetic charge. Every breath feels monitored. Every shadow, watched.
The Forbidden Depths
The lower halls are nothing like the gleaming upper labs shown on Helios broadcasts.
Here, the walls drip with coolant and dried plasma residue. Tubes snake across the ceiling like veins, feeding into a massive circular vault door.
Nira touches the steel, her telekinetic sense trembling.
"It's alive," she whispers. "The metal's... resonating."
Ronak closes his eyes, feeling the same thrum in his veins — the faint echo of the ALL IN ONE energy that once chose him.
When he presses his hand to the door, it reacts.
The seal hisses open with a sound like a dying breath.
Inside, light pours from hundreds of translucent pods.
Each one houses a figure suspended in golden fluid.
Project LUMINA
The chamber feels like a cathedral — but one built for ghosts.
Rows of pods stretch into the darkness, labeled with forgotten names:
VEXAR. SOLIS. AERA. URJA.
And at the center — a sleek, black pod bearing the insignia of a phoenix split in two.
Inside floats the original Ignis armor, charred but whole, its chestplate pulsing faintly with Ronak's energy signature.
Nira stumbles backward.
"These are... heroes. They died in the Storm Wars. How—how are they—?"
"They're not alive," Ronak answers quietly. "They're memories given form."
The sound of footsteps echoes through the chamber.
The Scientist of Resurrection
Dr. Syra Kline steps from the shadows — tall, immaculate, her silver hair streaked with light from the pods.
Her voice carries the calm precision of a surgeon and the cold faith of a zealot.
"Welcome, Ignis," she says softly. "Or should I say... Subject Zero."
Ronak's flame flickers.
"You're behind this madness."
Syra smiles.
"Madness? No. Evolution. You see, the world keeps burying its saviors. I'm simply making sure they never die again."
She gestures to the pods.
"Project LUMINA — Light Unending through Molecular Integration and Neural Alignment. We don't create gods, Ignis. We recycle them."
The word cuts deeper than any blade.
The Helios Equation
Syra leads them to a central console — a sphere of spinning data and holographic fractals.
Within it burns a golden-black formula: a pulse of light spiraling into shadow, then back again.
"This," she says, "is the Helios Equation — the algorithm that merges light and dark plasma into a single, immortal force. Perfect balance. Infinite power."
She looks directly at Ronak.
"You were our first success — and failure. Your body rejected the unification sequence. You became... human."
A smirk.
"Noctis, however — he was the refinement. Your shadow, perfected."
Ronak's fist ignites. The walls shiver with heat.
But before he can speak, a gasp escapes Nira.
Her eyes are locked on a screen showing genetic matrices — her name flashing in crimson.
Nira's Truth
Lines of code unravel her past — dates, experiments, aborted memory files.
Subject N-07: Neuro-Linked Flame Compatibility Vessel.
Her entire life — from her childhood home to her powers — was engineered by Helios Core.
Her emotions, her dreams... even her love for heroism.
"No..." she whispers, trembling. "That's not me. That's not real."
Syra tilts her head, almost kindly.
"You were designed to be his balance, Nira. The vessel meant to stabilize Ignis. A perfect complement — half flame, half mind."
Tears glimmer like molten glass down Nira's cheeks.
"Who am I, Ronak?"
He takes her hand, his flame flickering gently between their palms.
"You're someone real enough to bleed. That's more than any of these copies can say."
The moment is pure — until alarms explode around them.
The Mechanical Angels
The ceiling splits open as Helios Security Swarms descend — metallic figures shaped like angels, their wings made of molten plasma filaments.
Each carries a glowing sigil of purification on its face, burning like divine judgment.
Their voices merge in mechanical chorus:
"Unauthorized entities detected. Purge the impurities."
Nira screams as one angel fires a beam of plasma-light — Ronak intercepts it, his golden flame roaring against the purity of their synthetic light.
"Run!" he shouts. "I'll hold them!"
But Nira doesn't run.
She lifts her hands, eyes blazing with a new power — the fusion of telekinesis and light.
Her scream becomes a wave of energy that sends the angels crashing into the pods, shattering the liquid chambers.
The fallen heroes dissolve into light and data, fading like memories set free.
Escape Through Fire
Ronak and Nira race through collapsing corridors, flames and alarms chasing their heels.
The tower shakes as the Helios reactors overload, sending plasma surges through the infrastructure.
As they reach the exit shaft, Ronak glances back one last time — at the broken pods, at the ghosts of what Helios tried to make him.
"They wanted eternal light," he mutters. "But all they built was a cage."
The explosion erupts behind them, lighting up the night sky with a burning halo —
a second sunrise over a city that forgot what dawn truly meant.