The tunnel was colder than anything Nero expected.Not sharp, not biting—just a deep, steady cold that crept into the bones and stayed there, like a memory that refused to fade.
Their footsteps echoed softly as they moved. The walls were narrow enough that Nero's shoulder brushed metal every few steps. Helia walked ahead, her posture stiff, scanning the shadows like she expected something to crawl out of the darkness at any moment.
For once, Nero wasn't watching the walls.
He was watching her.
She was different now—sharper around the edges, eyes constantly shifting, fingers tense around her weapon. The message about "bond instability" had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.
"Helia?" Nero whispered.
"Not here," she murmured back without turning.She was maintaining the relationship between them and Nero knew it was better for both of them.
"Right". Nerp replied in lowered voice. The Archive watched.It listened.It reacted.
Every word felt like stepping on glass.
They pushed deeper into the tunnel until it opened into a small service chamber—round, empty, and dimly lit by a single flickering blue panel embedded in the ceiling.
Helia swept the room first. When she seemed satisfied nothing was waiting to kill them, she motioned Nero inside.
He stepped in quietly.
The door behind them hissed shut.
For a moment, the silence was too heavy.
Helia ran a hand along one of the dormant consoles, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "We're in maintenance section K-12. Systems here are mostly dead. Less surveillance."
Nero nodded, though his mind wasn't on the consoles.
"You don't trust the Archive," he said softly.
Helia turned, giving him a look that was half disbelief. "You're asking me that now?"
"Yeah." Nero shrugged slightly. "It's watching us. Tracking everything we do. Every feeling. Every heartbeat. Why stay here at all?"
Helia leaned against the old console, exhaling slowly. Something tired flickered in her eyes.
"Because," she said, "for some of us… this place is all we've ever known. It's impossible to escape a world you can't even imagine leaving."
Nero let that sink in.
"It doesn't have to stay that way," he said quietly.
Her eyes snapped up to him—surprised, almost hopeful—before she caught herself and looked away.
"Don't say things like that," she muttered. "It makes it harder."
Nero blinked. "Harder to what?"
"Harder to…"She stopped mid-sentence, jaw tightening."…to remember what this place does to people like you."
Like me? Nero thought.
Before he could ask, a soft buzzing noise crackled from the ceiling panel. Nero tensed instantly, instinct taking over.
Helia spun, weapon raised.
The light from the panel flickered erratically—dim, then bright, then dim again—like something was forcing its way through the circuits.
Nero stepped closer, feeling the faint pulse of resonance under his skin.
"Veyra?" he whispered.
Helia shook her head. "No. This is external."
The light flared—
Then a distorted figure formed within the glow.
Tall.Blurred.Outlined in faint teal.
Not human… but not machine.
Nero's muscles locked. "Who—"
A broken voice cut through the crackling static.
"…Prototype… Twelve…"
Nero felt his breath leave him. Helia's eyes widened, fingers tightening on her weapon.
The figure leaned closer, its form glitching with every move it makes.
"…You must… listen…"
Nero swallowed. "Who are you?"
The figure paused. When it answered, the voice was clearer—still broken, but almost gentle.
"…An echo. A remnant. A prototype like you… undone."
Helia stiffened. "Another prototype?"
"No," the echo rasped."…What remains of one."
Nero's heart pounded.
He'd thought Prototype Eleven was the last. The recording was all that remained.
But this… this was different.
"Why are you here?" Nero asked, taking a hesitant step forward.
The echo's head tilted, like someone mourning something long gone.
"…Because the Archive has marked you… the same way it marked us…"
A chill deeper than any cold seeped into Nero's body.
Helia's hand dropped slightly from her weapon. Her voice steadied."What does that mean?"
The echo flickered, its form dimming.
"…Instability… is the first step… toward erasure…and the archive...has detected...your instability"
Nero felt his stomach drop.
Prototype Eleven's pleading voice echoed in his memory.
I don't want to disappear… please…
The echo continued, glitching harder as its voice grew urgent.
"…Do not let them decide who you are… Prototype Twelve…""…Your bond… your will… your fear… they see it all…""…And if you deviate, the Archive will rewrite you…"
Nero stepped closer despite Helia's warning grip on his sleeve.
"Rewrite me into what?"
The echo's head lowered.
"…Into nothing you would recognize…"
Then—like a candle snuffed out—the entire figure shattered into streaks of teal light and vanished.
The room dimmed, falling silent again.
Helia slowly lowered her weapon, though her hand was still trembling.
Nero stared at the empty space where the echo had been.
"Why show himself?" Nero whispered.
Helia looked at him—not with fear this time, but something much heavier.
"Because you're closer to the truth than you think," she said quietly. "Closer than the Archive wants you to be."
Nero swallowed. "And the bond?"
Helia looked away.
"That message wasn't just a warning…" she whispered."…it was a countdown."
Nero's breath caught. "A countdown to what?"
Helia met his eyes.Her voice was soft, small, more vulnerable than he'd ever heard it.
"To losing yourself."
The ceiling groaned above them, pipes rattling like something massive was shifting overhead.The R-unit might be on their way to track to them.
They weren't safe here.
But leaving meant stepping into a world that wanted Nero rewritten and Helia erased.
Still, Helia grabbed her weapon. Nero steadied his breathing.
Together, they moved toward the next passage.
Their bond—whatever it was—had already been noticed.
Now the Archive had decided it was a threat.
And threats were dealt with.
One way or another.