The air in the cramped distribution room was stagnant, thick with the smell of ozone and wet rust. Outside, the deluge roared like a hungry beast; inside, the only light was a thin, trembling beam from a single flashlight.
Chen slumped on the damp concrete, gasping for air and clutching his canvas tool bag as if it were the last lifeline in a sinking market. It took a long minute before the old man realized he had actually survived the "liquidation".
"Brother... Ethan..." Chen's voice was a jagged whisper, his eyes bloodshot. "I've never begged for a handout in my life, but if you hadn't stepped in... I'd be gone. That man, Zhao... he's a goddamn vulture. I did everything he asked, and he still tried to use me as a human shield!"
Ethan crouched, angling the flashlight downward so the glare wouldn't blind the technician. He looked at this weathered, calloused man and felt a cold, familiar burn in his gut.
Before he was dragged into the Infinite Threshold, Ethan had survived a different kind of meat grinder—the heartless circles of high finance. He had seen plenty of "Zhao Gangs": men in bespoke suits who spoke of "synergy" and "corporate family" while treating their subordinates as disposable variables. What just happened in the lobby was simply the world's hidden cruelty rendered in high definition.
"Take a breath, Chen," Ethan said, his hand clamping down on the old man's bony shoulder with the weight of an anchor. "I didn't pull you out just because you're a technical asset. I did it because we're the ones who actually build things. In this hellhole, men like Zhao are bad debt. They'll sell your life the second the margin call comes. We don't play their game. We carve out our own path."
Chen's eyes welled up. He nodded frantically, his grip tightening on his insulated pliers. In that moment, the old electrician didn't just have a savior; he had a commander.
As they moved to examine the wall-mounted circuit maps, a muffled, frantic splashing echoed from the lobby. Ethan stood instantly, killed the light, and pressed his eye against the narrow slats of the steel door.
Through the strobe-like flashes of lightning, Ethan saw Zhao Gang herding the remaining survivors toward the east fire exit like panicked cattle. The recent attack had shattered their collective nerves; it was a blind "bank run" toward the exit, everyone trampling over each other to avoid being the next victim left in the dark.
"Move it! Keep up!" Zhao hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed terror. He stayed dead-center in the formation, forcing the younger men to act as his vanguard scouts.
The water was deeper now, surging toward their hips. Hidden debris became lethal snags.
As the tail end of the group reached the stairwell, Ethan's jaw tightened.
A woman named Lin Xue was struggling in the rear. She was a single mother, her arms locked around her seven-year-old daughter. The girl was catatonic with fear. In the earlier chaos, Lin had slammed her ankle against a submerged obstacle. Now, she was limping heavily, falling further behind with every agonizing step.
"Wait... please, just a second!" Lin pleaded in a desperate, strangled whisper. She didn't dare scream, terrified of drawing the thing in the shadows.
The leaders of the pack paused for a fraction of a second. But Zhao whirled around, his face a mask of cold-blooded pragmatism. "Wait for what? You two are sunk costs! You're going to drag the whole group down with you. If you can't keep the pace, you're on your own!"
Without a backward glance, Zhao shoved the others forward. The rest of the group, paralyzed by their own "survival of the fittest" logic, followed him into the black maw of the stairwell. The heavy fire door slammed shut with a final, metallic thud.
The lobby returned to a graveyard silence, save for the rain and Lin's quiet, broken sobbing. She collapsed against a marble pillar, the water nearly reaching the little girl's chest. She closed her eyes, waiting for the "Market" to close on her life.
In the distribution room, Ethan's gaze turned to ice.
"Ethan... they're just kids," Chen whispered from behind him, watching through a gap. Chen's heart was soft, but he was too terrified to ask Ethan to risk a rescue.
Ethan took a sharp breath. From a purely "Data Brute" perspective, a wounded woman and a child were toxic assets—dead weight that increased his risk profile exponentially.
But Ethan cursed under his breath.
If he stood by and watched them get liquidated for the sake of "safety," how was he any different from the institutional monsters who had ruined his life? He had been the one abandoned before. He knew how cold the gutter felt. He had promised himself he would never become a machine that calculated human lives as mere chips.
If this System wanted to force humanity into a race to the bottom, Ethan was going to short the System.
"Chen, keep the bolt loose. Be ready to pull us in. Don't make a sound unless I call for you."
Ethan turned, his eyes burning with a savage, unwavering intensity.
Chen blinked, his own eyes moistening, and gave a heavy nod. "Go. I'll hold the line!"
Ethan drew a breath, cracked the steel door, and slid into the freezing water like a shadow. He moved with the predatory grace of a man who had spent his life navigating shark-infested waters.
The lobby was a death trap. Lin Xue sat huddled by the pillar, waiting for the end. Suddenly, a powerful hand surged from beneath the surface, locking onto her arm.
She almost shrieked, but a warm palm clamped firmly over her mouth.
"Quiet. You want to live? Follow me."
A low, grounding baritone vibrated through the dark. Lin looked up and saw Ethan's eyes—they were preternaturally calm, devoid of the panic that had infected everyone else.
Ethan didn't waste a second. He scooped the shivering girl into his arms, shielding her against his chest. With his free hand, he gripped Lin's arm, providing a rigid, unyielding support.
"Don't worry about the floor," he whispered. "I'm the anchor. Just follow my lead."
To Lin, those words sounded like a divine decree. She bit her lip, suppressing the scream of pain from her ankle, and hobbled after him toward the distribution room.
A minute later, the steel door hissed shut and the bolt slammed home. Lin's legs gave out, and she sank to the floor, clutching her daughter and sobbing with relief. She looked at Ethan and began to bow her head in gratitude. "Thank you... thank you... we would have been..."
Ethan caught her shoulders, stopping her. He found a dry piece of cardboard for them to sit on.
"Save the thanks," Ethan said, his voice soft but carrying a steel edge. "In this place, we regular people are the only ones we can trust. If we don't look out for each other, we're already dead."
He looked at Chen, whose eyes were red, then at Lin and her quiet daughter.
"Listen up. My name is Ethan Chu. I don't care what the 'Rules' say, but in this room, there's only one law: we are a team now. If you trust me, I'll get you out of this building in one piece. That's the deal."
He didn't speak down to them. He spoke to them as equals.
"Chen is our technical lead—he's our vanguard. Lin, you're a mother, which means you're tougher than anyone here. Keep the kid quiet, stay focused, and that's your contribution. We move as one unit. I don't care if it's monsters or the gods themselves—we're going to flip the table on this house."
There was no flowery rhetoric, just a "down-to-earth" promise. But in this abyss, it was more powerful than any miracle. Chen tightened his fist; Lin wiped her tears, a spark of defiance returning to her eyes.
In this cold, clinical System, Ethan had used a bit of stubborn human "sentiment" to forge a bond that wouldn't easily break.
The team was consolidated. Now, it was time to find the building's hidden leverage.