Bram ran faster—as Drone- 7 charged with mechanical speed closing distance between target and its primary objective. In the red pulse light of vein-walls, its metal body looked like a nightmare stitched together from scraps of past generations. But Bram kept running until the narrow corridor narrowed even more—forcing the drone to slow down or risk shutting itself in confined space. The drone's eye flickered like it was frustrated :
The drone- chase behind him—its speed reduced in tight space, but still relentless.
"Target remains evasive. Initiating Stun Protocol: Level 3."
A high-pitched whine built up in the air—one that made Bram's teeth vibrate and skull throb as if his brain were being stretched.
He knew what came next:
A sonic pulse so sharp it could knock out weaker minds instantly—used to purge underperformers during final cut week at elite Academies across the continent. One direct hit would drop him for good…
But he didn't stop.
Instead—he slid hard to his left at the last second, shoulder-first into a jagged groove along the wall where old fissures glowed faintly blue…
And triggered something buried deep beneath Red Core's structure—
[Resonance Chamber Activated]
Echo Sequence Engaged – Proximity Threshold Met
The drone moved —
BZZZZZAP!
—a wave of energy erupted from its front core…
…but bounced back instantly off curved fossil-tile geometry designed centuries ago by unknown architects who understood acoustics like gods.
The stun ricocheted once… twice…
Then imploded directly into Drone- 07's sensory array,
Red eye flickered:
"Er–ror—"
Then shut down completely—and collapsed sideways like fallen statue, twitching sparks flying from joints as ancient maze systems logged:
System pinged quietly in mindspace:
But no time for celebration.
From deep within maze core—a new signal pulsed forward through veins in walls now glowing crimson red:
[Final Trial Initiated]
Objective: Reach Central Chamber Before Time Expires (04:59 remaining) Warning: Maze Reconfigures Every 90 Seconds After Activation
Stone groaned above him. Corridors shifted slightly—the entire labyrinth rearranging itself like a living beast folding paths closed behind prey trying to survive long enough to see daylight again...
And then came another whisper—not machine this time—but human voice.
"Don't trust the door at center."
"It doesn't open for winners.
..."It opens only for those willing to lose everything else."
Bram heard the voice whisper one last thing—soft enough to seem part of the maze itself:
"You will understand, soon."
And then...
...it silenced.
He stood, alone again, amidst shifting corridors of bone-colored rock.
And took a deep breath.
This was it.
Bram pushed through labyrinth walls shifting around him, each step forward becoming quicker—almost rushed. He could sense the end coming… felt it in his bones.
He heard a low hum of hidden motors from all sides, sensing the entire maze reconfigure without warning. Everything could change at a moment's notice.
Bram's mind raced faster than his legs—already calculating possible routes based on shifting path patterns he'd memorized. It was a gamble—every move meant risking dead-ends with no time to backtrack.
Then it happened: a sudden shift in gravity.
He staggered, hand flying flat-palmed against stone for balance.
The maze was moving with him, accelerating through next phase. The walls groaned—like a living thing taking deep breaths.
Now or never.
He ran.
Bram pushed faster as corridors twisted into impossible shapes, forcing sudden changes in direction. He leaped over chasms, skidded along sharp-angled turns—
It all became a blur.
The humming in veins became a roar... a thunderous pulse of sound making every breath echo like wind in a cave.
And then suddenly—
STOP.
The maze ground to a halt—walls motionless for the first time since starting.
Everything went silent.
Bram stood in an unfamiliar open chamber.
The air smelled faintly sweet—not the usual dust and stone of other rooms.
In the middle of the room lay the Maze's center: a narrow platform with a single obsidian-lined doorway etched with ancient symbols he didn't recognize.
His legs quivered, body exhausted from the run. But deep within that doorway, he saw something...
An exit?
Bram stepped forward.
His footsteps echoed against stone floor as he slowly circled the platform. Then stopped.
Nothing here. Just an empty doorway carved from black volcanic glass.
He stared into it, almost expecting to see something—or someone—in the shadows.
His hands shook from adrenaline.
What now?
Bram turned, surveying the maze chamber.
Everything was still... too silent, as if the entire labyrinth was waiting for something.
For the first time since starting, he felt fear. Not just anxiety—but the kind of gut-deep fear that makes you wonder if you've made a mistake.
"What the hell am I doing?" he whispered to himself—
And heard a whisper back.
Soft—but audible...
From inside the doorway.
Bram turned around again, eyes scanning shadows within the shadowed doorway. The darkness beyond seemed to shift slightly...
He held still, breathing slowly.
"Who's there?" he called out in a hoarse voice.
For a moment, nothing. Then...
A quiet chuckle in reply.
"...still asking who, little ghost?"
The voice was low—familiar, but warped, as if echoing from a buried memory.
Then, slowly—a figure stepped forward from the black doorway.
Not solid. Not quite real.
Translucent. Flickering like old hologram feed with static edges... wearing tattered football gear smeared in rain and blood-streaked ash.
And then Bram saw it:
His own face.
But older.
Harder.
Eyes hollow with regret and rage barely contained beneath cracked skin like dry earth under desert sun...
"You don't get to forget me," the figure whispered.
"Because I'm the one you left behind."
Bram staggered back—heart slamming into ribs—
This wasn't part of the test.
This wasn't Zone Z protocol.
This was something deeper...
Something worse.
"Who—what are you?!" he choked out.
The ghost-smile widened slightly—and faded fast into sorrow:
"I'm Bram Nolan."
"Before you woke up as Bram Ashcroft."
Then reached forward—not to attack—but to touch his chest right over heart:
"And I never agreed to die so you could play hero in another life."
**
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