The sirens weren't supposed to sound like this.
Seris sprinted through the dim corridors, boots pounding against the floor as the alarm's warped tone echoed overhead. Division Grey was built to intimidate, not panic. Tonight, the fortress sounded like it was screaming.
Two hunters barreled past her, dragging a limp man whose body was bent wrong, eyes glowing faint white like Shade mana had crawled inside him.
"Clear the way!" one of them barked.
Seris pressed herself against the wall, heart hammering, before forcing herself forward. Her comm crackled with static, drowning out panicked voices.
The lights overhead flickered violently, plunging the hallway into pulses of shadow.
[NOTICE: SECTOR FOUR LOCKDOWN FAILURE.]
[WARNING: SUBJECT NINE—UNCONTAINED.]
Seris froze. The mechanical voice was steady, almost calm, but the words sent a chill through her bones.
"Seris!"
She turned sharply. Hale stood at the end of the corridor, coat immaculate despite the chaos, his face pale but composed. "With me," he ordered, voice carrying over the alarms. "Now."
"What about Theron?" she demanded, chest tightening.
"Focus." Hale's tone was flat, but there was a sharpness there she'd never heard before. "If Nine links, this facility is compromised."
Her breath hitched. If Nine links?
Before she could respond, the PA system crackled again.
[NOTICE: LINK SUCCESSFUL.]
The words rang out clear and calm, and for a moment, everything in the corridor stopped—the sirens, the shouting, even Seris's breathing.
Theron wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed.
The darkness around him wasn't empty; it pulsed, alive, as if the shadows themselves were breathing. Words flashed in the void, not on a screen but in his mind.
[WARNING: SOUL INTEGRITY—53%.]
[ERROR: OVERRIDE DETECTED.]
[NOTICE: █████ WATCHING.]
His chest rose and fell rapidly, but he couldn't feel his body. It was like his thoughts were trapped in static.
Then a voice cut through it all—calm, low, and deep.
"You're loud."
Theron's head snapped toward the sound, though he couldn't tell if he had a head to move. A silhouette stood in the void, taller than him, radiating quiet pressure. Its face was blurred, its edges flickering like a broken screen.
"Who are you?" Theron's voice sounded distant, like it wasn't his own.
"You already know."
Nine's voice wasn't threatening. It wasn't kind either. It was… curious. Like a predator studying prey.
The void shifted. Suddenly Theron was standing in a hallway he didn't recognize, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Scientists in pristine coats sprinted past him, alarms screaming. He tried to move, but his body didn't respond—he was only watching.
Nine's voice returned, closer now. "They thought they could cage me. They thought they could control what they didn't understand."
Theron's vision jolted again. The hallway warped into a laboratory, walls cracked and smeared with something dark. A mist crawled along the floor, glowing faintly. He recognized it instantly.
The same mist that had flooded the containment room.
Nine stepped into view this time, but he wasn't a man. Not exactly. His body flickered between shapes—tall, humanoid, then something skeletal, then a shape of pure static. His eyes, however, stayed the same: sharp, intelligent, almost human.
"You're… inside my head," Theron whispered.
Nine tilted his head, expression unreadable. "No. You're inside mine."
A sudden jolt of pain lanced through Theron's skull. The System flared violently.
[NOTICE: LINK COMPLETE.]
[NEW ACCESS GRANTED.]
Theron stumbled back as his vision fractured—images of things he didn't understand flashing like corrupted data. Hunters kneeling before black obelisks. Scientists carving glowing runes into flesh. Cities swallowed by mana storms.
"Stop!" he choked out, clutching his head, but his voice echoed weirdly in the void, distorted like an old recording.
Nine's form loomed over him, impossibly tall now, his voice a whisper right in Theron's ear.
"They made you a weapon. They made me something worse. You and I… we're the same."
The door to the containment chamber was locked, but Seris didn't care. She slammed her palm against the scanner, overriding the locks. The system hesitated, lights flickering, then released with a heavy click.
Hale grabbed her wrist. "You don't want to go in there."
She yanked free. "He's alive."
"Not for long," Hale muttered under his breath.
The door slid open.
The containment chamber was a ruin. The walls were scorched, and the glowing runes that once pulsed faint blue were blackened and cracked. Mist clung to the floor like smoke after a fire, curling around Seris's boots as she stepped inside.
"Theron?" she called softly.
No answer.
Then she saw him.
Theron was on his knees in the center of the room, sword lying forgotten at his side. His head was bowed, hands pressed against the floor as if he couldn't trust his own balance.
"Theron!" Seris sprinted forward, dropping to her knees beside him. She reached for his shoulder.
His head snapped up.
Her breath caught.
His eyes flickered—not just with mana, but with something else. Something wrong. Lines of glowing runes ran faintly along his skin, like someone had written on him with light.
"Seris." His voice was hoarse, but there was another tone layered beneath it. Something inhuman.
Behind her, Hale's voice was sharp. "Don't touch him."
Seris ignored him. "Theron, talk to me. What happened?"
Theron blinked, his expression twisted between confusion and fear. "I… I can hear him."
"Who?"
Nine's voice answered for him. "Me."
The word wasn't just sound—it resonated in the air like an echo inside her skull.
Seris froze.
Hale stepped into the room, hand slipping inside his coat where she knew he kept a sleek black firearm. "Step away, Seris. Now."
The mist around Theron's body swirled violently, responding to his pulse.
"No," Seris said firmly, placing her hand on his arm. "If you shoot him, you'll just piss it off."
"It already is pissed," Hale replied, his voice calm but tight.
Theron squeezed his eyes shut, fingers digging into the cracked floor. The System's voice spoke again, but this time it wasn't the neutral tone they were used to. It was distorted, warped:
[NOTICE: HOST STABILIZATION… DENIED.]
[WARNING: LINK IRREVERSIBLE.]
The mist erupted upward like a living thing, swallowing the room in a swirl of shadows and pale light.