The kitchen stank of grease and ozone. Broken plates shimmered black where sparks had kissed them; a ceiling light flickered like a tired pulse. Alia's heart hammered so loudly she thought the whole room would hear it.
She was behind the sink when a shape slid out of the ventilation grate, dust falling like pale rain. A second shadow followed, slower, clumsier — the second figure dragging each step as if the floor itself resisted him.
"Arthur?" Alia's voice tore from her throat, small and raw.
The man with the broken leg blinked up at her, the corner of his mouth trembling with recognition and pain. His leg was wrapped in bandages soaked dark; each breath he drew was a labor. He tried to stand, and the world tilted.
"Arthur," Alia said again, voice breaking. "Uncle—"
She ran to him. Without thinking she gripped his arm and hauled, the muscles in her forearms burning. He cursed under his breath, teeth gritting, but he didn't fall. The other figure — a stocky man with tired eyes, callused hands — stepped forward and offered his shoulder.
"Let me help," the man said quietly.
Alia looked at him. It was him kaito father
Together they moved into the inner kitchen, bodies press-close to the counter so they wouldn't be seen from the main corridor. The utility canal entrance was a rusted hatch set near the pantry; a dark tube that swallowed sound.
Alia pressed her forehead to Arthur's shoulder as they crouched. "What happened to you? Who did this?"
Arthur's face was pale with strain. He shook his head slowly, like a man trying to clear fog. "I don't— I don't remember hitting anyone. One moment I was running, and then—" His fingers curled, knuckles whitening around Alia's sleeve. "I woke up like this."
A cold silence stretched. The three of them—Alia, Arthur, and Kaito's father—exchanged looks that asked and refused to answer.
Then Arthur's gaze flicked to the two strangers who had emerged from the ducts. "Who are you?" he rasped.
Alia answered for them. "They helped me get here," she said, voice small. "They— they brought me to safety."
Kaito's father's jaw tightened. "Where's Kaito?" he asked at once, desperation a raw edge in his voice.
Alia swallowed. The words scraped the inside of her throat like stone. "Kaito… he left. He went after Alexander and Kuro." Her voice broke on the last name. "We tried to stop him. He— he wouldn't listen."
Something in the kitchen shifted. The air thickened.
Arthur blinked, eyes moist with something that might have been anger or pain. He turned to the two who had helped them. "I'm Arthur. This is— this is Kaito's father." He pointed at the man who stood like a cliff. "I don't know what's happened here, but I— I won't leave until I find Kaito."
The taller man — Carl, the one with the rifle slung over his shoulder — scoffed. "Are you insane? You'd stay behind for that idiot? We have a clear shot out of here. We can leave before those Regans realize this floor is empty." His voice was harsh, edged with impatience.
Sofia's stare was colder than the metal in the kitchen. She and Carl moved as a single shadow when they spoke—practical, lethal. "This is our chance," she said. "We slip through the canal, hit the surface, and we're gone."
Arthur's hand tightened around Alia's. He looked at her, at Kaito's father, then back at Carl and Sofia. "I am not leaving my son to become someone else's revenge," he said quietly, and despite the weakness in his tone there was an iron in it that steadied the air.
Carl barked a humorless laugh. "You're sentimental. We're not here to babysit noble ideals. If you want to throw your life away on a chase, fine—but we have to move."
Sui Hiroshi — who had been leaning against the prep table, a silent shadow until now — stepped forward. His voice was even, controlled. "Calm down, Carl." There was something in the way he said the name that made Carl bristle, as if a leash tightened. "We all want to survive. But I can't go and leave Kaito behind either."
Carl glared. "Then stay. Stay and die with him."
Sui's eyes flashed a quiet warning. "That's not a choice I'm willing to make. But we won't scatter like frightened mice. We decide, together."
Sofia watched them, lips pressed thin. Her tone when she spoke next had no warmth. "This is your last chance. Go now, and don't bind us to your ghosts. If you come, you come. If you stay, don't expect us to wait."
The utility canal yawned behind them, dark and smelling of old rain. A faint draft breathed from it — the promise of escape, or of being carried somewhere worse.
Kaito's father knelt, placing his palm over Alia's hand as if anchoring himself to reality. "You should go," he said softly, to Arthur and Alia both. "This whole place is collapsing. If you stay—"
Arthur cut him off with a breath that sounded like surrender and steel mixed. "If you go without him, I will find you later," Arthur said to Carl and Sofia, voice low and dangerous. "I will not abandon him to become what they want."
Alia's eyes burned. "Uncle—" she began, but the word dissolved into a choked sob.
"It's my fault," she said suddenly, sharper than she expected. "If I hadn't— if I hadn't lead him into this… He wouldn't be out there alone. I'll get him out." The words were a promise wrapped in guilt. They came from somewhere deep inside her — not bravery, but a raw, ragged need to fix what she had broken.
Sofia studied her for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then she gave a curt nod. "You're reckless," she said. "But you have a spine. Fine. We move— now. Carl — with me. The rest of you, prepare."
Carl cursed under his breath but he didn't leave. He moved to the hatch, fingers working the old bolt like a profession. The lid groaned open, revealing the black throat of the utility canal. Cold air crawled upward, carrying the faint echo of distant alarms and something else — a metallic throb that could have been a heart or a machine.
Arthur shifted, wincing. Alia pressed the heel of her hand to his bandage, leaning close as if she could stitch his courage into place. "We'll find him," she whispered, though her voice trembled.
Kaito's father rose, shoulders set like a tower. "Then we go," he said. "Together, or not at all."
Sofia's shadow swallowed the doorway as she turned to leave. For a heartbeat the kitchen was still — the sound of their breathing, the click of the bolt, the distant rumble of collapse.
Then they moved, one by one, into the black, each step a small crack in the quiet, each shadow swallowed by the same dark they hoped would lead them out.
---
The corridor shimmered faintly beneath the low hum of Rim-powered lights. Dust floated through the red haze as Maria and Kiayara advanced, their boots whispering against the cold metal floor. Behind them, a squad of soldiers hurried to keep pace — tired, nervous, their uniforms half-burned from earlier explosions.
A young officer jogged forward, rifle shaking slightly in his hands. "Ma'am," he said, saluting with a stiff, uncertain motion. "We searched the lower storage levels, the dorm wings, and the main ventilation shafts. No one found. They've vanished."
Maria stopped. Her cloak whispered as she turned. Her eyes, calm and predatory, fixed on him like the tip of a blade.
"Then keep searching," she said softly, and the soldier stiffened as if her words had weight. "No one vanishes in my sector. If they breathe, they leave traces."
Kiayara, walking beside her, tilted her head, her sharp crimson hair brushing her shoulder. "And what if they actually escaped?" she asked, tone playful, though her eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Maria's expression didn't change. "They can't escape."
Kiayara smirked, folding her arms. "You sound very sure. Why? Those utility canals run all the way to the outer yard. Even a rat could crawl out if it's fast enough."
Maria finally looked at her — a glance sharp enough to cut through noise. "That's because what you know about those canals is half a truth," she said. "They were built as Rim-powered systems — passage veins of the fortress. They allow inward flow for maintenance or delivery, but the moment someone tries to leave through them…" She trailed off, stepping forward. A low thrum filled the corridor as the wall panels glowed faint blue. "The canal senses outbound Rim signatures and seals itself."
Kiayara blinked. "So they can't get out."
"They'll be trapped," Maria said. "Crawling in circles until their Rim runs dry."
Her tone was steady, but there was a flicker of something behind it — satisfaction, perhaps. The labyrinth always favored the hunters.
They turned the final corner leading to the kitchen sector. Faint traces of heat lingered in the air, the scent of scorched metal mixed with oil. Maria slowed, her white-gloved hand brushing against the wall. She stopped.
"Hey, Kiayara," she said suddenly.
"What?"
Maria's pupils dilated slightly. "I sense people. Familiar traces — warm, faint, but alive."
Kiayara's smile widened. Her claws unfurled with a metallic rasp, tips glowing crimson. "You really have extraordinary senses, don't you?" she teased, her voice low and dangerous. "Then let's see if your instincts are right."
Maria nodded once, her silver eyes narrowing. "Keep it quiet. If they're who I think, we'll have more to gain than to kill."
The lights above flickered once. The soldiers behind them tensed, weapons raised.
Something was moving ahead — faint vibrations, soft enough to be mistaken for the hum of pipes.
Kiayara rolled her shoulders, the motion graceful and beastlike. "Finally," she murmured. "Something interesting."
Their silhouettes disappeared into the heat shimmer as they approached the kitchen door.
---
Elsewhere — Lower Prison Sector
A shadow crossed the cracked floor, long and heavy, like something that had forgotten how to be human. Billish dragged her wrench along the wall, the metal screech echoing faintly through the half-lit hallways. Her breath came short — not from fear, but from exhaustion. The Rim gauge on her wrist blinked low red.
She sighed, gripping the handle of her wrench tighter, then clicked a switch on its side. The weapon collapsed, shrinking into a compact form that she shoved into her pocket.
"Figures," she muttered. "Lost again in this damned maze."
The silence here was wrong. Too quiet for a facility that was supposedly crawling with guards.
Her boots splashed lightly into a thin trail of leaked coolant, reflecting the dim light like a dead river.
She turned a corner — and a hand shot out of the dark, gripping her arm. She was yanked sideways, hard, her back hitting the wall. The air left her lungs in a gasp.
"What the—" she hissed, wrench half-drawn before she froze. The figure before her wasn't a Regan.
He wore a cracked skull mask, its surface etched with faint Rim lines. His uniform was torn, the faint shimmer of blood along his collarbone. But the energy behind those eyes — the steady, ice-cold awareness — told her who it was before he spoke.
"56?" she breathed.
He pressed a finger to his mask. "Quiet," he whispered. "You shouldn't be here."
Billish exhaled shakily. "You pulled me off like I was about to explode. What's going on?"
He looked around, scanning the hallway corners before answering. "This is the jail sector," he said quietly. "Our other members — except Kuro — are here. So is Regan No. 8, Mark."
Her eyes widened. "Mark? Then why the hell aren't you fighting already? You could take half this sector down before they even blink."
His stare met hers — calm, tired, calculated. "If I start a fight here," he said, "the other Regans will sense the energy. You know what happens then." His voice lowered, almost to a growl. "They'll come. All of them. And we'll be trapped with no room to breathe."
Billish frowned. "So what, you're just going to wait?"
"Not wait." He turned, crouching near a vent panel and prying it open with a silent crack. "Plan."
The sound of distant footsteps echoed down the corridor — patrols sweeping the floors above. Billish crouched next to him, her tone softer now. "What's the plan, then?"
"Find a way to cut their Rim feed," he said. "Once their sensors go dark, we take Mark, Sinon, Samuel, Andreo, Michael — all of them — and move to the west sector. From there, we can breach the surface."
She nodded slowly. "And Kuro?"
He paused. The mask tilted slightly toward her. "He's on his own," 56 said at last. "He chose that."
Billish frowned. "You don't sound like you believe that."
56 didn't answer. He was staring at a small indicator on his wristband, its glow faint. "He's alive," he said after a moment. "For now. But if Regan No. 1 arrives before we move—"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
The silence stretched again, the air thick with Rim static. The faint hum of powerlines above them was the only sound, a mechanical heartbeat pulsing through the corridors.
Billish leaned back against the wall, folding her arms. "Fine," she said finally. "You plan. I'll make sure the guards in this wing don't 'accidentally' spot us."
"Be careful," he said quietly.
She smirked. "I'm always careful."
Then she slipped back into the shadows, leaving 56 alone in the flickering light — the skull mask staring after her, unreadable.
Somewhere above, alarms trembled once before dying again.
And the fortress breathed on, unaware that its veins were filling with traitors.
---
Alane sat cross-legged on the cold floor of the capsule room, the faint hum of Rim energy vibrating beneath him. His palms rested lightly on his knees, eyes closed, trying to steady his racing mind. The distant echo of footsteps and metallic groans from the facility seemed to pulse through his chest like a heartbeat.
Three shadows drifted across the periphery of his vision. His eyes snapped open, and he saw them clearly now: Rose, Tina, and Louis. Each carried the weight of their own battles — Rose with a steely gaze that betrayed nothing, Tina with hands wrapped carefully in bandages, and Louis holding his broken hand gingerly, but standing tall despite the pain.
Alane exhaled, leaning back against the smooth metallic wall. "Good. At least some allies survived," he murmured. They lowered themselves into the capsule room, the space cramped but secure, walls humming softly with the contained energy of dormant experiments.
Louis glanced at him, flexing his broken hand. "Boss," he said, voice rough but steady, "you picked a good spot. If anything goes wrong, at least we have some breathing room here."
Alane nodded, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Plans have to be perfect. Anything less and we're finished." He paused, studying Louis. "What happened to your hand?"
Louis's jaw tightened. "Alexander — Regan No. 2. He did it. Snapped it like it was nothing. I should have expected it, but…" His voice trailed off. A quiet frustration lingered in the capsule room like smoke.
Alane's eyes swept over the others. "Where's Alke?"
Rose shook her head slightly. "She went after someone from that group — trying to track them."
Alane's fists clenched, subtle but sharp. "Our top priority was to capture the Eclipse boy. Now?" His voice dropped. "Now, it's just about escaping this place alive."
The room fell silent for a moment, each of them lost in thought. The Rim hum in the walls seemed louder here, like it was aware of their scheming minds, watching and waiting.
---
Elsewhere — The Weapon Gear Room
Kaito's fingers gripped Regan No. 5's weapon, the dial on its hilt gleaming faintly in the dim light. He had already tested its transformations — dialed from sword to scythe to spear, and back again. Each shift felt natural in his hands, Rim energy humming in response to his aura. He could feel the weapon resonating with his own power, almost as if it were alive, waiting to be pushed to its limits.
His thoughts were sharp, singular — revenge, justice, and the need to protect those who had been cornered. One thought stood above the rest: No one will ever forget me.
---
Back at Regan No. 2's Sector
Alexander stood near the center of the command room, white hair slightly disheveled, a trace of fatigue in his expression. Beside him, Claire's calm, measured presence contrasted sharply with the tension lingering in the air. Despite the chaos around them, both were acutely aware of the stakes — Kaito was still unaccounted for, a threat growing in silence.
Claire shifted slightly, trying to ease the awkwardness. "You've encountered the Eclipse boy, right?" she asked, voice light, almost casual, though her eyes studied him keenly.
Alexander's lips pressed together for a brief moment. "Yes," he said finally. "I have."
Her gaze sharpened. "How powerful is he? Could he take us?"
Alexander exhaled slowly, his shoulders settling. "No. He can't. Not yet." His tone was matter-of-fact, though a shadow flickered across his face. "He has incredible power and potential… but he collapses after prolonged use. He's strong, but untested under pressure. Not enough to overwhelm us — at least, not yet."
Claire's features relaxed slightly. "So he can't take us. That's reassuring." She didn't add it aloud, but the relief that softened her voice was genuine — for now.
The room's quiet stretched, tension like a thin thread ready to snap. Then, a movement at the edge of the doorframe drew all eyes.
A figure emerged, stepping with certainty that seemed to absorb the ambient light. The hilt of a sword gleamed faintly in his hands, Rim energy buzzing from its core, coalescing like a storm. Dial set to "1," the weapon glimmered as it solidified into a sword, edges catching the light like sharpened mirrors.
Alexander's eyes widened, the faintest twitch of recognition crossing his features. "Did… did you get here?" he said, voice tight.
Kaito's stance was steady, eyes glowing faintly with controlled power. "You might have forgotten that I got out," he said, voice low but carrying across the room, "but you will never, ever forget me." He flexed his grip on the weapon, Rim energy surging through his veins. "I promise that."
Claire stiffened beside Alexander, sensing the sudden spike of energy. It was more than a display — it was a declaration, a challenge. The air itself seemed to pulse, ripples of raw Rim energy radiating outward from Kaito, resonating with the very walls of the fortress.
Alexander's hand moved instinctively, tension coiling in his shoulders. He had underestimated him, perhaps, but not for long. The Eclipse boy had changed — no longer a threat to himself, but to all of them.
Kaito's eyes scanned the room, landing briefly on Alexander. The subtle smirk on his lips was not of arrogance, but of calm inevitability. Every movement, every transformation of the weapon at his command, carried the weight of a single truth: he had the power now, and he had no intention of hiding it.
The room's tension crystallized into silence, broken only by the faint whir of Rim circuits in the walls. It was an unspoken countdown — the moment before a storm.
---
Elsewhere, in the corridors of the facility
Alane, Rose, Tina, and Louis remained in their capsule room, each pulse syncing with the distant vibrations of Rim activity. Unbeknownst to them, Kaito was already moving through the fortress, steps silent yet unstoppable, carrying the promise of chaos in every swing of his new weapon.
The fortress, massive and sprawling, seemed to pause. Even the Rim-powered canals, the surveillance circuits, the silent sentries — all waited, unknowingly, for the storm that had just begun.
Kaito's promise echoed in the emptiness: You will never forget me.
And with that, the first wave of the Eclipse boy's reckoning had begun.