Klaus moved through the maintenance networks like he had memorized every crooked pipe and every forgotten valve. Nero followed close behind, matching his pace, while Helia stayed a step to the side—watchful, suspicious, one hand always hovering near her weapon.
The tunnels changed as they advanced. The rust gave way to cleaner steel, the damp to controlled, recycled air. The faint hum of processors deep within the Archive beat steadily, like a distant heartbeat pulsing through the metal.
"Not many people know this route," Klaus murmured, crouching to sweep aside a thick cable bundle. "Drones can't fit through half the access points. Even the Unit won't chase down here."
Helia didn't ease. "Convenient."
Klaus only grinned, a small, crooked smile that looked more tired than confident. "Convenient is the only reason I'm alive."
He lifted a hatch quietly and gestured for them to drop into the shaft below. Nero went first, landing on a narrow metal beam covered in dust. Helia followed, boots landing soundlessly beside him. Klaus closed the hatch behind them and climbed down with practiced ease.
The shaft led them into an old inspection hallway. Emergency lights flickered faintly overhead, washing the curved walls in pale amber. The place felt abandoned—too clean, too silent, too forgotten.
"This is one of the original maintenance routes," Klaus said. "Predates the last dozen reconfigurations. The Archive barely remembers it exists."
"Then how do you?" Helia asked.
Klaus tapped his temple. "Got lost here once. Worst twelve hours of my life. After that, I made sure to remember every crack and panel."
Helia didn't smile, but her suspicion eased by a fraction.
Nero studied Klaus quietly. The man was older than both of them—late twenties, maybe early thirties. His face had the kind of exhaustion that came from fighting something too big for too long. Yet his movements were calculated, efficient. He was no terrified stray survivor.
And still… something in his eyes didn't feel threatening. If anything, he looked lonely.
Klaus stopped at a junction where the hallway curved into darkness. He crouched, wiping grime from a panel.
"Give me a sec," he said. "I need to disable the heat sensors."
Helia frowned. "You know where they are?"
"Better question," Klaus replied with a wink. "Why doesn't anybody else?"
He pressed two fingers into a small slot. Something clicked. The lights above them dimmed briefly, then stabilized.
"There," Klaus said, dusting off his hands. "System thinks this tunnel's offline. We can walk through without alerting half the Archive."
Nero exchanged a subtle glance with Helia. Even she looked… impressed.
They walked on, their footsteps absorbing into the quiet hum of the Archive.
After a few minutes, Klaus slowed his pace until he walked beside Nero.
"You got lucky back there," Klaus said softly. "Most people who run into scout drones don't make it to the second scan."
Nero inhaled deeply. "We didn't have much choice."
"Still," Klaus said, eyes flicking to Nero's trembling hands, "your reaction time… that was something."
Nero stiffened. "It was just adrenaline."
Klaus didn't push. "If you say so."
Helia's voice cut the air. "He doesn't owe you an explanation."
Klaus raised his hands in surrender and laughed quietly. "Didn't ask for one. Just making conversation."
Nero felt his pulse steady. Klaus's demeanor wasn't aggressive—just observant. And maybe a little too perceptive.
They reached an intersection where the corridor split into three paths. Klaus turned left without hesitation.
"How long have you been down here?" Nero asked.
Klaus shrugged. "Hard to say. A few months. Maybe more."
"Alone?" Helia asked.
"Not by choice."
Nero heard something in his tone—something raw.
Klaus continued, voice lower. "Used to be six of us. Engineers. Tech rats. Good people. One by one they got taken. Drones. System collapses. Sometimes dehydration. You stop counting after a while."
Nero swallowed. The ache in Klaus's voice didn't feel rehearsed. It felt lived.
"I'm sorry," Nero murmured.
Klaus waved a hand. "Don't be. That's just life in the under-layers. You keep moving or you fall behind."
They traveled in silence for a while. The air here was colder; Nero could see faint vapors escaping his breath. The corridor walls glowed faintly, like old circuits still trying to wake.
Then Klaus slowed, lifting one hand. "Stop."
Nero and Helia froze.
A faint ticking sound came from the tunnel ahead. Regular, rhythmic, wrong.
Klaus pressed himself against the wall and nodded toward a cross-section of pipes. "Pressure fault. Two seconds before it bursts."
Helia grabbed Nero and dragged him back behind a panel.
Klaus yanked a rusted valve with both hands.
A second later, a pipe exploded with a deafening hiss, steam shooting across the corridor like a razor-thin blade.
If they'd kept walking…
Nero's breath caught.
Helia stared at the steam cloud, her expression shaken despite her composure. "How did you know?"
Klaus smiled faintly. "After losing two friends to that exact failure? You start recognizing the sound."
Nero let out a slow breath. Klaus wasn't just lucky—he knew this world. He'd survived it by understanding it.
He'd saved them twice now.
And the worst part?
He didn't even look like he wanted anything in return.
"Come on," Klaus said, gesturing for them to follow. "There's a safer spot up ahead. Rest. Regroup. Figure out your next move."
Helia hesitated—but only for a moment. Then she nodded.
They followed Klaus into a narrow side tunnel lined with old tool lockers. The air felt strangely still—as if the Archive had forgotten this place long ago.
Klaus unlocked a small side room. Inside were scraps of food, a water container, a dim portable light, and a patched sleeping mat.
He'd been living here.
"Make yourselves at home," Klaus said, dropping his pack. "You both look like you've been through hell."
Nero sank to the floor, his muscles finally unclenching. Helia sat across from him, her eyes on Klaus.
"Thank you," she forced out.
Klaus shrugged. "Just repaying the world. It owes me some good luck."
As he turned to adjust the light, Nero noticed something—just for a second.
A faint blinking reflection inside Klaus's coat pocket.A small node.A communicator of some kind.
Before Nero could think about it, Klaus turned back to them.
"Well," he said easily, "rest while you can. Things get rougher deeper in."
Nero nodded, unaware of the shadow that had just entered their lives.
Klaus sat down, stretching his legs casually.
For the first time since meeting him, his smile didn't reach his eyes