The air felt heavier down here.
After we followed the scouts below ground, I couldn't help but glance at every corner of this hidden facility. There were no windows—just dim, sterile lights embedded into the ceiling, casting a white glow that made everything feel clinical and distant. The walls were made of reinforced steel, but layered with a white polish that gave the illusion of cleanliness—maybe even peace.
But peace doesn't echo like this.
Footsteps, faint voices, and the hum of machines—it was all too quiet.
"How did they build this…?" I muttered aloud, mostly to myself. "If this took time, then surely Vex Corp would've noticed. But… it isn't like that for this place."
The question loomed in the air, unanswered.
The scouts ahead didn't even turn their heads.
Their silence didn't sit right with me. Not after dragging us out here under the pretense of conscription.
We were led further through narrow corridors, away from the bustling registration area where new recruits received uniforms and IDs. Here, the halls grew dimmer. Less populated. More guarded.
It was only us and the scouts now. Ashford walked at the front, shoulders squared with unshaken posture, his pride unmistakable. He never once looked lost or hesitant—only calculating. Like a predator in unfamiliar terrain, learning it faster than anyone else could.
Akio stayed close to Amara. He didn't speak. His grip on the strap of his gear bag had grown tighter with every turn we took.
As for Amara, she looked around with caution in her eyes, her lips pressed in a thin line. But there was also wonder there—like she couldn't tell whether this place amazed her or unsettled her.
The scouts stopped at a shadowy hallway.
"This way," one of them said.
We followed until a pair of dark double doors stood ahead of us.
One scout stepped forward and knocked.
A calm voice answered from behind. "Come in."
The doors swung open, revealing a spacious office unlike any I expected. At its center stood a circular desk, but there was no clutter—just a single datapad, a small monitor, and a man standing tall behind them, hands behind his back.
He had sharp features, despite the clear wear of age—white hair cut short, sun-touched skin like worn leather, and eyes that still pierced with youthful clarity. His uniform was spotless. The medals on his chest didn't glint from pride—they simply existed there. Earned. Undisputed.
"I am Corporal Archie Hall," the man said in a gravelly but composed voice. "Welcome."
None of us answered immediately.
Ashford gave a slight nod.
I stepped forward.
"We didn't know there was anything like this below ground."
Corporal Hall gave the faintest of smiles. "That was the point."
He walked over to a nearby control panel, and with the flick of his fingers, a holographic display unfolded across the room—a massive, glowing map that spun in mid-air. But this wasn't a city. Or a warfront.
It was… data.
Strands of code. Grids of pulses. Strings of colored lines. Like a digital nervous system.
"This is the battlefield now," Hall said. "Not the one above ground. The one below it. Inside it."
Amara tilted her head. "What are we looking at?"
"The veins of our world," he replied. "The structures beneath the surface—the algorithms, the systems Vex Corp embedded into our existence."
I felt my throat tighten.
It wasn't just tech. It was control. Influence. Programming on a scale beyond war machines or satellites.
Akio frowned. "You're saying we're not fighting soldiers. We're fighting… information?"
Corporal Hall turned toward him. "You're fighting a narrative that has already been written."
Ashford's voice broke the silence. Calm, but laced with defiance.
"So what do you expect us to do?"
Corporal Hall turned to him, unwavering.
"To challenge it."
Ashford narrowed his eyes. "With what? Four people and broken weapons?"
The Corporal approached slowly, locking eyes with Ashford. "With awareness. With skill. And most importantly—with resistance. You four have worked independently. That's why you were chosen. Because unlike the soldiers above who follow orders, you question them."
My mind churned.
Something deeper was at play.
And I wasn't sure I liked where it was going.
The Corporal spoke again, softer now. "There are patterns in this world that shouldn't exist. Soldiers dying… and disappearing. Places that erase their history overnight. You've seen it, haven't you?"
My heart skipped.
I had.
Amara looked at me—but I couldn't meet her eyes.
Ashford stayed silent.
"Julian," the Corporal continued, "you've been studying the maps, the movements, the reactions. You've noticed the cracks."
"…Yes."
He nodded. "Good. Because those cracks are real. And they're growing."
I swallowed hard.
"So what do you want from us?"
He stepped closer. "I want you to prepare."
"For what?"
His eyes turned sharp.
"To break the loop."
A heavy silence blanketed the room.
And then he turned away, returning to the console.
"You'll be assigned quarters. From here on, you'll have limited access to everything we have—missions, resources, intelligence. You're not just soldiers now."
He turned his head slightly.
"You're seeds of something larger."
Ashford crossed his arms. "A revolution?"
Corporal Hall's voice was barely a whisper.
"No."
"A correction."