The hallway they entered felt older than any they'd passed so far.
It was darker and quieter, untouched by the subtle distortions that had plagued the deeper sections of Sector Zero. The walls bore the scars of age rather than collapse with thick layers of dust clinging to dead wiring that ran along the metal like veins long since drained of blood. For once, the corridor did not bend or shift beneath Nero's feet.
It remained still. Unmoving. Watching.
Nero hated how familiar that sensation was becoming.
Helia finally released his wrist, though the tension in her posture made it clear she'd only let go to move ahead. She advanced carefully with her baton raised and scanned the shadows with practiced precision. Nero flexed his fingers behind her and felt a dull ache still lingering in his arm, a reminder of the controlled burst of Veyra he'd unleashed against the corrupted C-Unit.
He wasn't sure which frightened him more.
Having that power, or realizing how quickly it responded to him.
"Helia," he said quietly, his voice echoing faintly down the corridor. "What happened back there—"
"Later," she cut in sharply without looking back. "We're not safe yet."
She was right. The air carried the sharp tang of metal and ozone while the distant hum of dormant machinery throbbed like a persistent headache.
But there was something else pressing at the edges of Nero's awareness, something weightless yet unmistakably present.
The figure's presence lingered like a shadow that refused to fully fade.
They rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt before a massive blast door embedded into the far wall.
Unlike everything else they'd encountered in this sector, the door was pristine. Its smooth surface was unmarked by corrosion, distortion, or decay. It looked as though time itself had politely stepped around it.
"Nero," Helia whispered, her tone tense. "Don't get close yet."
But the moment Nero stepped within two paces, the door reacted.
A soft blue ripple of light spread across its surface and scanned outward before outlining Nero's silhouette with eerie precision. The glow lingered and mapped him in exact detail.
Helia swore under her breath. "It's keyed to you."
Nero's heart skipped. "Keyed to me?"
"Not your fingerprint," she said with panic flickering briefly in her eyes. "It scanned your resonance signature."
Cold crept up Nero's spine.
The door slid open.
Beyond it lay a chamber flooded with pale, sterile light. Dozens, no hundreds, of floating memory cubes hovered in spiraling rings around a central column and rotated silently like moons caught in orbit.
Each cube shed faint holographic trails as it moved and left behind ghostly afterimages that shimmered and faded in the air.
Helia inhaled sharply. "These are early-stage prototypes."
Nero stepped inside despite himself with the soft glow reflecting in his eyes. "Prototypes for what?"
Her answer came quietly.
"For people."
Something heavy lodged in Nero's throat.
He moved toward the nearest cube. As he approached, its surface flickered and cycled through fragmented projections: distorted faces, incomplete limbs, malformed bodies. Each image dissolved into the next with unsettling speed.
Then it stabilized.
Nero froze. The hologram showed a child.
Small. Dark-haired. Smiling brightly in a way Nero didn't remember ever smiling.
"That's me," he whispered.
Helia placed a hand on his shoulder. "Nero, step back. These recordings interface directly with your core."
It was too late. The cube flared brighter. A synthetic voice echoed through the chamber, layered and omnipresent.
"Prototype sequence activated." "Subject: Nero Vale." "Emotional imprint detected."
Helia stiffened. "Emotional imprint?" She turned sharply toward him. "Nero, who did you imprint on?"
He blinked, disoriented. "Imprint? I don't know. I don't remember anything before waking up in the Archive."
The cube shifted again. A new hologram formed.
The child, young Nero, stood holding the hand of an adult figure. The adult's form was blurred beyond recognition with every identifying feature erased into static. Their face, their build, even their posture had been deliberately obscured.
But the emotion was unmistakable.
Warmth. Safety. A bond so deep it had survived the loss of memory itself.
Nero reached toward the image with trembling fingers.
Helia grabbed his wrist. "Don't. That figure was intentionally wiped."
His voice cracked. "Why?"
Before she could answer, alarms erupted throughout the chamber.
The memory cubes glowed red.
A mechanical alert boomed overhead.
"Unauthorized access detected." "Initiating memory lockdown." "Return subject to containment."
Helia swore loudly. "You triggered a system recall."
Panels slid open in the walls and revealed mechanical arms tipped with needles, clamps, and restraints.
"Nero!" He backed away instinctively. "What is this?"
"An old evaluation room," Helia said while pulling him toward the exit. "It's treating you as incomplete data."
Metallic arms snapped toward him.
Nero ducked just in time and felt cold air rush past where restraints had tried to lock onto him.
Helia struck two arms with her baton as electricity crackled and sparks rained across the floor.
"Nero—move!"
The door responded to his panic and slid open as they crossed the threshold. The moment they escaped, it slammed shut behind them.
The alarms cut out.
Silence reclaimed the corridor.
Nero leaned heavily against the wall with breath coming in uneven gasps. "That imprint, Helia. Who was that with me?"
She didn't answer right away.
When she finally met his gaze, her expression had softened with sadness etched deeply into her eyes.
"Nero," she said quietly, "imprinting isn't random. A child only forms that kind of bond with someone very close."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Someone who cared for me?"
Helia swallowed. "Or someone who needed you."
Helia's eyes noticed a shaft that offered escape from this area. Ignoring all of Nero's questions, she moved toward it.
Nero clenched his fists as his pulse raced, fear and anger and confusion twisting together into something sharp and unresolved.
But beneath it all, one truth burned brighter than the rest.
He wanted to know who that erased figure was.
And why the Archive had made sure he would forget them.