The elevator doors slid shut with a muted metallic hiss.
The echo of guards converged from two corridors.
"I wonder why these minions are always so useless everywhere, like, just come on." Henry muttered lightly.
The elevator jolted, then it descended.
Outside, masked guards rushed into view just as the indicator light flicked from their level to the one below.
Plasma rifles raised, hesitation held them back. Firing at the shaft risked damaging the system entirely.
The doors were already sealed. Inside, the hum of cables and counterweights filled the tight space. The descent felt slower than it was.
Arcee leaned against the wall crossing her arms.
Blyke watched the floor numbers tick down.
Henry adjusted his mask slightly.
"Hold your marks." he said calmly.
The elevator continued downward and the hunt reset itself one level lower.
....
Far below the trembling pedways, beyond surveillance corridors and reinforced partitions, a guard sprinted toward the inner hall.
The doors parted slowly. Fog spilled outward like breath from a sleeping beast.
The chamber beyond did not resemble a command center. It resembled a throne room.
The far end rose into a shallow platform where a throne had been assembled not made of any precious ornate—but constructed from broken architectural fragments and the armored corpses of those who had opposed him.
A figure sat upon it. He wore red shirt. Sleeves were folded with deliberate neatness. Below was black leather trousers, tailored and immaculate despite the chaos of the arcology.
The fog swallowed most of his features, but two yellow eyes gleamed through the haze like a predator under the full moon.
The guard bowed instantly on one knee.
His boots scraped the polished floor before he dropped to one knee without being ordered.
"L–Lord Roland Odwolf." he stammered.
His voice echoed small in the vast chamber.
Roland, the figure did not move.
He acknowledged the greeting staying silent. For a mere Predator like him, silence was the most kindest deed someone could seek.
It pressed against the guard's lungs, made speech feel like trespass.
"We–we detected an in–intruder." he forced out, shaking violently. "They have breached maintenance. We attempted containment, but—"
His throat tightened. "We failed."
The word felt suicidal. Still, Roland remained motionless. Only when the guard's breathing became audibly unstable did the man on the throne shift slightly.
Just enough to confirm awareness.
His voice, when it came, was low and controlled, smooth as velvet drawn across a blade.
"Is that all?"
The guard nodded frantically, eyes fixed to the floor lowering his head while shaking it uncontrollably.
"Leave."
The guard bowed deeper and scrambled backward, desperate to escape the room intact.
Roland Odwolf remained seated in the fog, fingers resting lightly against the throne's arm.
The hall remained silent long after the guard fled away.
He stood up on his bare feet.
He stood the way a magician stands when the world inherits or enjoys the sweet illusions beneath them.
Fog curled around his boots as he stepped down from the throne assembled of ruin.
The red of his shirt caught faint, diffused light through the mist, deep as spilled wine. His black leather trousers whispered against the stone floor with each step. There was no rush in him. Power did not hurry him to cause chaos...
He walked forward cutting a path through the fog as if it parted willingly. The air seemed denser near him, charged up.
His silhouette sharpened as he approached the tall glass window lining the chamber's far wall.
White hair fell loosely around his face, strands catching dim reflections from the fractured lighting above.
When he reached the glass, his features came into view very refined, symmetrical, almost sculpted. Handsome in a way that felt deliberate rather than accidental.
But it was the eyes that refused to be ignored. He rested one hand lightly against the cold surface of the window.
On the other side of the window...
Rows of severed heads arranged with unsettling precision across metal racks. Blood dried dark against the walls and floor. Faces frozen in final shock, rage, terror.
It was not a collection... but something...
Roland's gaze moved across them slowly.
A slight curve touched the corner of his lips, quite absence of one.
"Freak" he murmured softly, voice barely disturbing the fog.
His reflection did not change. Outside that window was proof of consequence.
Inside this hall was patience. Roland did not rule through noise or direct confrontation. He ruled through inevitability and strategy.
He took out a small notebook from his pocket and opened a page numbered "67" which was empty.
He took a pen out and began writing between the margins drawn horizontally.
"The tragedy is not that we suffer, but that we understand why. Every identity is a decision made against another , a banner stitched from rivalry, where belonging demands quiet betrayals and bloodied self-amputations of discarded selves. However, in the race of prejudice and greed within humanity, self-knowledge is exile without leaving."
Then he closed the notebook sighing at nothing.
....
The elevator continued its steady descent, cables restrained a beast above them.
Floor numbers blinked down one by one in the screen.
Cagaro wiped sweat from his temple. "You think they will lock the lower sectors?"
"They already have probably by this time." Blyke replied checking the ammo counter on his weapon. "We just don't know how ugly it's going to get."
Arcee leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, expression unimpressed. "Oh please. You two look like you are discussing cafeteria options."
Blyke shot her a look. "We are planning."
"No." she said flatly. "You are just coping."
Henry stood near the control panel, eyes half-lidded watching the reflection of all four instead of the doors. "They will reroute security to vertical choke points." he said calmly. "We have maybe ninety seconds before they predict our landing."
Arcee tilted her head slightly. "See? That's how you do it."
Henry didn't react at all
She pushed off the wall and nudged Blyke's shoulder with two fingers. "Meanwhile, this one looks like he's about to write a farewell letter."
"Shut up."
"And Cagaro—" she glanced over. "If you hyperventilate any louder, they will track us by audio."
"I'm not hyperventilating. I was the introvert one all along"
"You are auditioning."
The elevator dinged softly as another floor passed. Arcee's tone shifted subtly,
"Jokes aside. Weapons are ready. If it moves wrong, it drops on us."
She looked at Henry.
"You too, genius. Try not to overthink the bullets like thinking to chew and then spit it back or whatever."
Henry's eyes flicked toward the descending numbers.
The elevator began to slowdown gradually.
The hum of cables deepened into a strained groan as if the shaft itself disliked what waited below.
Floor indicator was showing "B3"
Even Arcee's usual sharpness had gone quiet. Henry watched the numbers without blinking. Blyke tightened his grip on his rifle. "No noise from other side of the door." he muttered. "That's wrong."
Cagaro swallowed. "There should be… something. What if there are gaurds too?"
Only five seconds left to land.
Three seconds. Henry's reflection in the mirror seemed almost detached, like he was observing himself from elsewhere.
Two.
A distant metallic echo reverberated through the shaft.
One.
The doors hesitated before sliding open with a slow mechanical sigh. Darkness greeted them from the side.
The underground floor stretched outward in a vast, cavernous expanse. Rows of pillars disappeared into shadow. Overhead lights were shut off. Emergency strips along the floor were shattered.
Everyone's mind blew up. There's none!?
Blyke stepped forward first, rifle raised. His boots resounded too loudly on the floor.
"Where is everyone?" Cagaro whispered.
Arcee scanned the left. "This is not an evacuation."
Henry stepped past them slightly.
The darkness ahead didn't feel abandoned.
It felt… prepared for something.
Then from somewhere deep within the underground, a single light flicked on.
Inside the elevator, and the doors began to close as the elevator began going up...