The far wall ruptured.
Metal screamed as if the whole sector were tearing in half. The giant pod at the end of the chamber burst outward, glass exploding across the floor in a rain of shards.
From inside, something vast uncoiled. Not just a creature—an abomination. Its body dragged metal restraints with it, chains snapping as it rose. Runes burned white-hot across its chest and arms, not like scars but like brands still fresh, smoking against its flesh. Each movement warped the air, as though gravity bent around it.
Seris stumbled back despite herself. Hale steadied his aim, though for the first time his hand trembled against the grip.
And Theron—his head snapped toward the pod as if Nine had been waiting for this moment all along. His eyes lit with static, bright enough to burn in the dark.
Brother was nothing, Nine hissed through him. But this one… this one is mine.
The abomination lifted its head. Rows of jagged teeth glistened in the emergency light, and when it roared, the sound wasn't just heard—it was felt. It rattled the chamber, shook glass from the ceiling, and pressed into bone until Seris nearly collapsed.
Dozens of the smaller pods shattered in sympathy. More half-born things crawled free, twitching and shrieking. Sector Zero wasn't a chamber anymore. It was a nest.
"Fall back!" Hale shouted, voice raw over the roar. He fired again and again, shots sparking off rune-scarred flesh. The bullets didn't slow it down.
Theron staggered forward. His sword dragged, leaving sparks and static in his wake. For one terrible heartbeat, Seris thought he was going to side with Nine, to join the creature.
Then his jaw clenched. "No."
He surged forward.
The clash was thunder. The abomination's arm came down like a guillotine. Theron's blade met it, the impact sending shockwaves across the mirrored floor. Sparks flared white, static lashing outward like lightning bolts.
The other creatures shrieked and swarmed. Seris moved on instinct, her daggers flashing, cutting down one, two, three—but for every one that fell, two more clawed from the mist.
"Seris!" Hale's voice barked, close but strained. He was covering her flank, precise shots tearing through twisted limbs. "We can't hold this line!"
But Seris barely heard him. Her eyes stayed on Theron—on the way his movements blurred, faster than human, too fluid, too cold. Each strike of his blade looked like Nine's hand guiding it, not his own.
"Theron!" she screamed. "Don't let him win!"
His head whipped toward her mid-swing, his expression torn—half agony, half static serenity. "I—" His voice cracked. Then Nine's voice drowned it.
We win together.
The abomination struck again, and this time Theron didn't dodge. He stepped into it, his blade carving a sigil into the air, static flaring bright. The strike cut not flesh but reality, warping the chamber in a blast that hurled Seris and Hale across the floor.
When Seris staggered up, ears ringing, she saw it—Theron standing tall, sword humming with white noise, mist swirling around him like armor.
The abomination reeled back, not defeated, but wary.
And Nine whispered through him, soft and cold as snow:
Shall I show you what gods fear?
The chamber shuddered. Pods cracked. The facility itself groaned as if buckling under Nine's awakening.
Hale dragged himself to his feet, blood at his temple, pistol shaking. He didn't hesitate. He raised it, aimed square at Theron's skull.
"End this now," he growled, "or I put you down."
Seris stepped between them, blades raised, eyes locked on Theron's static-glowing face.
"No," she whispered. "He's still fighting."
The abomination roared again, rushing forward, and the floor gave way under the weight of it all—
—dropping them into the dark.