The abandoned terminal stretched endlessly, every broken chair and shattered pane of glass casting jagged shadows under the flickering fluorescent lights. The hum of old wiring seemed louder than it should have been, echoing off the cracked walls, mixing with Karl's unsteady footsteps. His body wobbled with every step, each movement a fight against the alcohol that had already clouded his senses.
Agnes hovered beside him, her nanite form flickering softly in the dim light, calm and collected. "Careful… steady now… you're leaning too far," she murmured, her voice a stabilizing thread in the dizzy haze of his mind.
Karl chuckled weakly, hiccuping between slurred words. "H-haha… steady… yeah… right…" His laughter sounded hollow, bouncing off the walls of the empty terminal.
And then he saw it.
A statue, impossibly large, looming in the distance like a sentinel left behind by a world that had forgotten this place. Its cobalt-blue surface glimmered under the broken light, but its eyes—two glowing orbs of crimson—felt alive. They seemed to pierce through the fog in Karl's head, boring into him. For a heartbeat, he felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched, of being weighed and measured by something vast and indifferent.
He stopped dead, knees weak. A chill crept along his spine, crawling under his armor like icy fingers. The alcohol in his system offered no comfort, no explanation, only amplified the creeping dread that snaked around his thoughts.
"Karl?" Agnes' voice cut through, calm but tinged with concern. "You're… staring too long. Come back to me."
He blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but the statue's eyes seemed to glow brighter, pulling at him, filling the empty terminal with a silent pulse. The red coals burned faintly, as if marking him, and the air itself seemed heavier. Karl's stomach churned, an inexplicable tightness knotting his insides.
The bottle in his hand slipped with a clatter, spinning across the cracked tile. Karl reached for it, but his limbs felt like lead. His knees buckled, and his body sagged forward. He struggled to catch himself, swaying, and then the weight of exhaustion—both from the alcohol and something else—claimed him. He toppled onto the cold floor with a thud, hitting his shoulder against a rusted luggage cart.
"Karl…!" Agnes' voice sharpened, a note of panic threading through the otherwise calm tone. "Karl! Stay with me!"
But he didn't. His eyelids fluttered once, twice, then closed completely. Limbs sprawled, head resting awkwardly against the cold tile, he was utterly still. His chest rose and fell slowly, shallowly, but his mind had already slipped away from the terminal, from the lights, from everything he knew.
Agnes scanned his vitals frantically, noting the erratic pulse and errant tremors from his drunken stupor. "He's… out cold. Too much… alcohol," she whispered, though the rational part of her mind hesitated. Something had touched him, something strange, in the instant he had looked at the statue. Her sensors picked up no trace, no signal—only Karl's own staggering vital signs—but the sensation lingering in the air was… wrong.
The statue remained still, impossibly silent, but the faint red glow in its eyes seemed to flicker, pulse, as if breathing in time with something Karl could not perceive. A subtle vibration moved through the floor, almost imperceptible at first, growing into a faint thrum that resonated through the terminal. The light reflecting off the shards of glass, the jagged metal of the broken chairs, and the cracked tiles seemed to shimmer as if alive.
Agnes hovered protectively, materializing a more solid, humanoid form around Karl. Her nanites coalesced into limbs and a body, shaping themselves into a comforting, tangible presence. "You'll be safe," she murmured softly, brushing a hand over his shoulder. But even she couldn't deny the weight in the air, the oppressive heaviness pressing against him from the shadows where the statue waited.
Karl's unconscious form twitched once, then again, as if sensing the strange presence that had brushed against him, but the alcohol and exhaustion smothered any awareness. His mouth fell open slightly, and a faint shiver ran through him, though he didn't wake.
The lights flickered again, casting the long, twisted shadows of the statue across the terminal walls. The red eyes glimmered brighter for a fleeting second, then dimmed, only to flare again in the next heartbeat. Each flicker seemed to echo in the empty space, a silent rhythm that pressed against Karl's mind, unnoticed, a pulse he could not resist.
Agnes adjusted her stance, her gaze flicking nervously between him and the statue. "We'll get you upright soon… just rest… let me handle this," she whispered. Her nanites shifted subtly, forming a protective cocoon around him, though the faint vibration of the air hinted at something beyond her comprehension.
Karl lay there, body limp, mind adrift, unaware of the silent, watchful eyes that had found him. The chill lingered, faint but undeniable, curling through his consciousness like a whisper. Even in his stupor, the faintest instinct tugged at him—something he could not name, could not see, yet felt pressing, waiting.
And above it all, the statue's eyes glowed, patient and unblinking, watching him in the half-light of the terminal, as if marking the moment for some future reckoning.