I huff, staring ahead at the towering steps and circling cubes that spiraled like some ancient temple—except this structure was colossal, the size of a city, reaching into the heavens, disappearing into the ceiling above. A grand staircase climbed its way toward a gaping hole at the top, as if promising escape.
My eye twitched at the sight—hope and freedom shimmered just beyond reach. Maybe… maybe there were people up there. Maybe salvation waited above.
If we could just climb to the top, if we could just reach it, we could finally escape this nightmare.
A sudden flash. A laser sliced past my head, narrowly missing, striking the wall with a sizzle."C'mon, Adam!" Yoku shouted.
I adjusted my grip on Mino, cradled in my arms, her breathing shallow. Berto kept running ahead, still evading the pursuing automatons. Adam's mind raced. Then an idea sparked."Hey! I got an idea!" he shouted.
Fiver looked at me, catching the glint of inspiration in my eyes. He nodded silently. Without a word, he and Yoku sprang into action. Yoku's mechanical arm shot forward while Fiver lashed his whip around a sturdy pipe. The whip snapped taut. With coordinated force, we were launched upward, pulled block by block, higher and higher toward the sky.
We escaped the automatons for now. And after a relentless climb, we saw it—a futuristic gate bathed in flickering neon light, pulses of blue and violet coursing along its edges like an artificial heartbeat.
Yoku squinted at it. "Okay… how do we even get through this thing?"
I turned to Fiver. He shrugged helplessly. I sighed, staring up at the massive gate. The walls surrounding it were embedded with exposed mechanical engine parts, clanking and hissing as they moved rhythmically. The sight reminded me of the last stratum. We had rested there too. And so we did again.
Yoku prepared the campfire pot. Mino's condition had worsened—her illness looked fungal. We had no more pills left. I rummaged through the supply pack. It was light… maybe enough for three more days. No more.
We gathered around the campfire. I sat with my head resting on my knees, fingers fidgeting in the quiet. Peace returned, even if briefly. The soft crackle of fire mixed with the distant chirps of fireflies. Moss of pale green and gray crept along the stone walls, spreading calmly over the ground.
Yuri turned to Adam, her expression soft. "So… what do you do in your spare time?"
Adam blinked. "Play on my phone?"
She tilted her head. "What's a phone?"
Oh. Right. Damn it. He had forgotten—this wasn't his world.
"Like, uh…" He coughed, correcting himself. "I mean… playing a guitar."
Yoku glanced over. "What's a guitar?"
"Basically… an instrument with strings."
Yoku's eyes lit up. He grinned, grabbed a plastic tube, a length of string, and a scrap of metal. With a mischievous chuckle, he assembled them into a makeshift instrument, tying the ends to a steel pole, threading the string through. He plucked at it experimentally, producing crude notes that echoed in the cavernous space.
"I used to do this all the time as a kid," he said proudly.
I chuckled. "Haha, maybe… yeah, something like that."
Yoku beamed. "Is it good?"
I smiled. "Yeah. It's good."
Fiver leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, letting himself rest for a while.
As the others settled, something caught my eye—a crack in the stone wall. Curiosity tugged at me. I stepped forward slowly, but Mino's faint voice stopped me."Wait… where are you going?"
I glanced back. "Well… I don't know. Maybe there's something in there."
"Can I come?" Her eyes were wide, pleading.
"No," I said gently. "You're sick right now. Any movement might make it worse."
She looked down, clenching her hands. "What do you think I should do, then? I… I just want to help."
Adam stared at her. What was she thinking? A memory stirred—his father's voice, always shouting, never listening. Always arguing, always dismissing his perspective. Why are we like this?
He had been a kid once too. Why couldn't he understand what a kid needed now?
He made a silent promise to himself in that moment: he would be different. He would change. No matter how strange or distant this world was, he wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.
"What do you want to say?" he asked softly.
"I just want to help."
"Why?"
She coughed, bending forward, hands braced on her knees. "Please… don't leave me. I can still be useful." Tears welled in her eyes.
I knelt beside her and hugged her tightly. "I won't. Never. Not now, not ever."
What the hell had this kid gone through to think like that? It shattered every assumption I had. I grabbed my pack, tightened the straps. Maybe there were supplies in that dark crevice. I didn't plan to go far.
Switching on my flashlight, I stepped through the cracked wall.
A hallway stretched ahead, strangely pristine—its walls hospital-like, with pale blue and black floors and a long white ceiling. The colors were soft but artificial, and a sterile scent hung in the air. I stepped forward, one careful step at a time, deeper into the unknown.
Suddenly a noise, a scratch and a humping mechanical and some flesh... Adam breaths a bit, having smelled something organic