The tunnel was not on any map.
No schematic, no archive, not even in blacksite legends traded by info-brokers in the Lower Grid. It was older than the ruins above, carved into the earth with precision beyond standard corp-tech.
And it was humming.
Thin white veins pulsed across the walls, like light trapped in veins beneath translucent skin. Elira adjusted her internal dampeners as electromagnetic feedback rolled through her sensors.
"This place is wrong," Fenrir said, his usual bravado muted. "It feels... awake."
Elira scanned the path ahead. "Self-regenerating infrastructure. Bio-metal weave. This isn't Virex technology."
"Then whose is it?"
She didn't answer.
As they descended, the air changed—more pressure, more noise. But not from outside. From within.
Whispers.
Digital, but not broadcasted. Not encrypted either. More like echoes in the air—fragmented memories caught in the static of the tunnel's own construction.
"...protocol breach... containment collapsed... she wasn't supposed to wake..."
"...Rian's not clean... the chip was a beacon... they know now..."
"...Rian's not clean... "
"...Where Rian's ..."
"...Rian..."
Fenrir stopped mid-stride. "Did that say Rian's chip was a beacon?"
Elira's optics narrowed. "He didn't hide it. He broadcasted it. He wanted someone to follow it."
"Us?"
"Or someone else. But we're here now."
The tunnel opened into a hexagonal chamber, lined in obsidian-black plating and softly glowing veins of circuitry. At its center stood a semi-organic console, its display dormant.
And just beside it—slumped, pale, and unmistakably dead—was Rian Koss.
Fenrir swore under his breath.
Rian's eyes were open but unfocused. His left arm was stretched forward, and his thumb was inserted into a smooth organic outlet built into the console base. Faint pulsing light encircled the entry point, still active.
Elira stepped forward and scanned him. "Minimal decomposition. Time of death—less than twenty-four hours. Cause: acute neural feedback trauma."
She looked at the console again. The display flared to life with her proximity, but it didn't recognize her.
USER: UNAUTHORIZED. DNA-BONDED SEQUENCE ACTIVE.
A secondary screen bloomed, showing a retinal match: Rian Tellar. Then a cascade of scrolling data filled the chamber—code sequences, synthetic stasis commands, and buried subroutines.
ECHO PROTOCOL – INITIATOR: RIAN TELLAR
Payload: Awakening Event Contingency / Synthetic Core Transfer / AI-Class-Sigma
Intent: Bury the Root. Before it wakes.
Fenrir crouched beside the body, sniffed once, then looked up. "Tellar? Not Koss? Everything about this guy makes me want to kill him. And look there. He even took that away from me. He knew he wouldn't make it out."
Elira nodded. "He linked his DNA directly. Probably to prevent anyone else from accessing the sequence."
"Then why leave us a trail?"
"Because we weren't supposed to stop him. We were supposed to finish what he started."
From the center of the room, a cylindrical container rose from the ground with a hiss of steam. Mist poured out as the stasis chamber unlocked.
Inside: a synthetic core.
But it wasn't Virex. Not even close.
Elira's neural array lit up in warning. "This tech predates every known corp signature. Quantum-cold layered logic. Neuro-thought enclosures. It's... alien."
"Or ancient," Fenrir said. "Either way, it's something we shouldn't touch."
Her HUD flared again—new signal. An unknown handshake request. She accepted it.
Only one phrase came through:
"The Root is stirring. You are already too late."
Suddenly, the walls around them began to pulse faster, almost like a heartbeat. The circuits glowed hotter. The air grew sharp.
The chamber shuddered.
Above them, tunnels began to collapse. Data veins burst, sending arcs of plasma lashing across the walls. Elira grabbed the core.
"We move. Now."
Fenrir was already running.
Behind them, Rian's dead eyes stared toward the ceiling.
And somewhere, deeper in the earth—
Something stirred.