The hallway Helia dragged Nero into felt older than the others—darker, quieter, like it had been sealed off for years. Wires ran along the walls like veins, most of them dead. For once, the corridor didn't shift under Nero's feet. It stayed still. Unmoving. Watching.
He hated how familiar that sensation was becoming.
Helia finally let go of his wrist, but only to move ahead, scouting with her baton raised. Nero flexed his fingers. His hand still felt the effects from the burst of Veyra he'd used against the corrupted C- unit. Controlled… or nearly controlled.
He wasn't sure what scared him more—having that power or not.
"Helia," he said quietly. "What happened back there—"
"Later," she said sharply. "We're not safe yet."
She wasn't wrong. The air tasted metallic, and distant machinery hummed like a dull headache. But something else pressed at Nero's mind—weightless, familiar, unsettling.
The Time Master's presence still lingered like a fading shadow.
They turned a corner and stopped in front of a large blast door. Unlike the others they'd passed, this one wasn't corroded or half-melted by temporal distortions. It was pristine—smooth metal, untouched by time.
"Nero," Helia whispered. "Don't get close yet."
But the moment Nero stepped within two steps of it—
The panel lit up.
A soft, blue ripple of light traveled across the entire surface, outlining Nero's silhouette with eerie precision.
Helia cursed under her breath. "This door is keyed to you."
Nero's heart skipped a beat. "Keyed… to me?"
"Not to your fingerprint," Helia said, panic flickering across her eyes.
"To your resonance signature."
A cold shiver crawled up Nero's spine.
The door slid open.
Inside was a chamber bathed in cold, pale light.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of floating memory cubes hovered in spiraling rings around a central column like orbiting moons. They rotated silently, shedding faint holographic trails in the air, creating soft echoes of recorded data.
Helia inhaled sharply. "These are… early-stage prototypes."
Nero stepped inside, the glow reflecting off his eyes. "Prototypes for what?"
"For people."
A stone formed in his throat.
He walked closer to the nearest cube. As he approached, it flickered through fragmented images—faces, distorted limbs, incomplete bodies. Hundreds of failed shapes before finally stabilizing.
Nero froze.
The stabilized hologram showed a child.
Small.
Dark-haired.
His eyes bright with a smile Nero didn't remember ever having.
"That's me," Nero whispered.
Helia placed a hand on his shoulder. "Nero… step back. These recordings interface directly with your core."
Too late.
The cube flared bright.
A synthetic voice echoed from all directions—
"Prototype Sequence: Activated."
"Subject: Nero Vale."
"Emotional imprint detected."
Helia stiffened. "Emotional imprint…? Nero, who did you imprint on?"
Nero blinked hard. "I—I don't know. I don't remember anything before waking in the Archive."
The cube shifted.
A new hologram formed—
A blurred adult figure holding the hand of the child-Nero. The adult's face, body, every identifying feature, had been erased down to static.
But the emotion… it was unmistakable.
Warmth.
Comfort.
A bond strong enough to leave an imprint even after memory loss.
Nero reached toward the image with trembling fingers.
Helia grabbed his wrist. "Stop. That figure was intentionally wiped. Someone didn't want you remembering them."
Nero's voice cracked. "Why?"
Before Helia could answer, alarms blared throughout the chamber.
The floating cubes glowed red.
A synthetic alert boomed:
"Unauthorized access detected."
"Initiating memory lockdown."
"Return subject to containment."
Helia swore loudly. "You triggered a system call."
Panels slid open in the walls—mechanical arms emerging with needles, clamps, restraints.
"Helia!" Nero backed away. "What is this?!"
"An old prototype evaluation room," Helia said, pulling him toward the exit.
"It's treating you as incomplete data!"
Metallic arms snapped toward Nero.
He ducked—barely—feeling the cold rush of air where restraints tried to clamp onto him.
Helia stunned two of them with her baton, sparks showering across the floor.
"Nero, MOVE!"
The door slid open behind them as if reacting to Nero's desperation, letting them escape. The moment they crossed the threshold, it slammed shut.
The alarms stopped.
Silence returned.
Nero leaned against the wall, panting. "That recording… the imprint… Helia, who was that with me?"
Helia didn't answer immediately.
But when she finally looked at him, her eyes were softer than before.
Sadder.
"Nero… imprinting isn't random," she said quietly. "A child only forms that kind of bond with someone very close. Someone they trust completely."
Nero stared at her, voice barely a whisper.
"Someone who loved me?"
Helia swallowed. "Or someone who needed you."
Nero clenched his fists. His pulse trembled—fear, anger, confusion mixing into something he didn't yet understand.
But one thing was certain:
He wanted to know who that blurred figure was.
And why they were erased.