The Core was quieter than I expected, and yet every surface seemed to hum with awareness. Pipes overhead shivered with distant vibrations. The air tasted metallic, tinged with the faint burn of machinery. I moved slowly, letting my eyes scan every corner, every shadow.
Click. A panel slid shut somewhere behind me.
Not that it mattered. Every exit I thought existed was gone, replaced by steel walls, locked doors, or the silent gaze of cameras I couldn't see. Even the stairwell that had promised a shortcut now held a fresh padlock, the kind I didn't recognize but knew well enough to fear.
I muttered under my breath, dry as dust in the veins of the city: "The first rule was wrong. It's not every man for himself. It's every man for him."
A low hum rose from the Core's machinery, pulsing in sync with my heartbeat. Each vibration seemed calculated, as though the building itself were breathing me in, studying my movements. Somewhere, a pipe dripped, water striking metal in a hollow, deliberate rhythm. My mind catalogued it all every sound, every hint, every forced limitation.
The Architect had thought of everything. Every person I had counted on. Compromised. Every route I had considered. Anticipated. Every instinct I'd trusted. Manipulated. And yet, here I was. Breathing. Calculating. Alive.
I stepped closer to a console, brushing my fingers across a cold metal surface. Data scrolled faster than my eyes could follow. Maps of the Veins, hidden feeds, surveillance logs, lists of names mine included. The more I saw, the smaller I felt, swallowed by the scale of it. But beneath that, a familiar spark flickered. Opportunity.
Every lock was a key, every trap a potential advantage. The Architect hadn't built an inescapable maze. He had built a stage. And I was still in the wings, unseen, unnoticed… for now.
The Core's hum shifted, a subtle shift in frequency that made my teeth prickle. I didn't flinch. Not yet. I had spent too long moving through traps, through shadows, through betrayals. I had learned the rhythm. I had learned the game.
And the game was far from over.
I took a steadying breath, letting the metallic tang fill my lungs. Each sound, each locked door, each camera feed was a part of the pattern. A pattern I intended to read, to manipulate, to survive.
No one was coming for me. Not really. And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what the Architect had underestimated.
I didn't move yet. I waited. Watched. Calculated. The maze was complete, the players in place, and the game our game was about to enter its final act.