…

  — LET GO OF MY BREAD, YOU DAMN BRAT!

  The guard on watch jolted awake from his near-sleep at the crash of splintering wood. He sprang up from his chair and ran to investigate the noise.

  The sound came from the cell of the test subject who had just Awakened. He didn’t know much about the Awakened, but Ezra had told him not to worry about this one, because “that one wouldn’t be able to escape even his own fart.”

  Inside the dark cell lay a shattered bed on the floor, and at the back it was possible to see someone repeatedly striking an unconscious child with a piece of wood.

  — HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! STOP IT NOW! — the guard banged on the bars of the cell, trying to get their attention, without success.

  Realizing that a valuable test subject was about to die, he unlocked the cell and rushed inside.

  — I SAID STOP! — he roared, kicking the attacker against the wall. — Shit, shit, shit…!

  When he knelt to carry the boy to Ezra, his brow furrowed. There was a strange opening in the boy’s torso. He was hollow—and he had no eyes.

  It was as if it were… a shell?

  — But what the hell—

  Something jumped onto his back, locking its arm around his neck in a tight chokehold.

  For long seconds he struggled, throwing elbow strikes at whoever was behind him. He tried slamming his back against the wall. Fell onto the broken bunk. His vision turned red.

  In one last desperate attempt to free himself, he pulled his dagger from its sheath and stabbed the attacker’s thigh, which let out a cry of pain in response—but didn’t let go.

  “Damn it, why do these things always happen to me? I just… wanted… to make… some… extra cash…” he thought before finally losing consciousness.

  Ivan finally released the unconscious guard, groaning in pain as blood ran down his leg. Micah stood up right after, clutching his kicked shoulder, which throbbed with pain.

  — Fuck, are you okay?! — Micah said worriedly, stepping closer to his injured ally.

  Crayfish let out a hoarse chuckle between groans—half sarcastic, half genuine.

  — What do you think? Do I look okay to you? Tear a piece of this guy’s pants and press it against my leg. It’s nothing fatal—we can keep going with the plan. Just hurry up before he wakes.

  The boy hissed through his teeth as Micah tied the fabric, tearing up from the pain while leaning on him to stand. They took the guard’s keys and, as they left, locked him inside the cell to continue with the plan.

  — Here, stop! It’s this cell.

  Micah opened the door and the two went to the back of the cell. He crouched and tried to pull the grate several times; he even braced his feet against the wall for leverage, his face turning red with effort.

  — Hey, boiled lobster! Didn’t you say this thing was loose?

  — I said 'kind of loose.' And, man, I only saw it for two seconds from the corridor—it’s not like I was sure. — Ivan sat on the lower bunk and pulled a wooden plank from the top bunk, tossing it to Micah. — Try using this.

  By a hair he didn’t drop it, instead wedging the plank between the bars of the grate and straining to pry it loose.

  A crack was the last thing Micah heard before smashing face-first into the wall.

  He looked at Ivan with an unreplicable ass-face, still holding the plank while his nose bled.

  The boy cleared his throat.

  — Pfft… — Ivan cleared his throat again before continuing, smiling in a way Micah didn’t notice. — There’s gotta be some other way into the sewers. Like, they have to get in somehow for maintenance, right?

  Micah snorted, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand.

  — Guess we don’t have a choice, then…

  Ivan leaned on Micah and they followed the tunnels, searching for anything that looked like a way out of that hell.

  During their search for an alternate route, away from the guards’ patrols, the pair heard a scream echo through the entire underground system.

  — HELP! GET ME OUT OF HERE! THE TEST SUBJECTS ESCAPED!

  — Sounds like he woke up. — Ivan whispered.

  — Oh, don’t tell me~ — Micah replied sarcastically as they hid inside a nearby room.

  As soon as they stepped inside, complete darkness enveloped them. Micah grabbed onto something that felt like a shelf, and the two hid behind it, waiting for the footsteps to fade.

  The place was hot—not hot like a sunny day, but like the inside of a crowded bus at rush hour. That kind of suffocating heat you only feel when surrounded by beings equally exhausted with living, even though the only ones there were him and Ivan.

  Moreover, Micah felt that, at that moment, he could hear his heartbeat outside his body. He found it strange, but didn’t question it due to the tension of the situation.

  As he tried to sneak out, Micah smashed his pinky toe against the furniture, nearly knocking over the glass contents of the shelf.

  A shame his little friend couldn’t see his face, by the way.

  His eyes watered with pain, but unfortunately for my amusement, he managed to suppress the groan.

  The impact ignited a blue and red light in front of them, which then lit others, until the entire room was bathed in a faint purple glow, like a darkroom.

  Before them stretched shelves lining all the walls of the room. The lower shelves held various Karma crystals, each with subtly different sizes and glows. But what drew the most attention weren’t the crystals, but the cylindrical glass containers filling the upper shelves.

  Each container held, at its base, two karmic crystals—one negative and one positive—a liquid that looked like blood, and in the middle of it all, a human heart floating at the center, pulsing as if still alive.

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  — My God… — Micah whispered, picking up one of the jars and examining its contents closely. — What the hell is this?

  — I don’t know… but we don’t have time for this, let’s go before someone—

  Ivan was interrupted when the door suddenly opened, and he quickly pulled Micah back into the hiding place.

  Two young people wearing white robes with silver details entered—a short blonde girl and a bespectacled boy with a scar on his cheek.

  — Which Images did Master Ezra ask for again? — the girl asked.

  — Uh… — the boy pulled a notepad from his robe. — “Phoenix” and “Courage.”

  The girl began rummaging through the shelves, making conversation while reading the labels on the jars:

  — What do you think this so-called “revolutionary project” he’s been working on is?

  — No idea. — the boy replied, sitting on a dusty chest. — But I’d bet my arm it has something to do with the pages of the Codex he acquired.

  — Well, whatever it is, it’s definitely going to be something amazing. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him so devoted to a research project like this… A-ha! Found it! — the young woman grabbed another jar before the two left the room.

  Micah and Ivan waited until they heard no more footsteps before releasing a shared sigh of relief and getting the hell out of that macabre storage room.

  — Wait! — Crayfish exclaimed as they passed an intersection. — It smells worse that way, let’s go there.

  At the end of the corridor there was an iron-bar gate, locked with a heavy padlock; on the other side, running water could be seen and heard. Micah tried several keys on the ring, practically praying one of them would be the right one. And, incredibly enough, one of them worked.

  The screeching sound of rusted hinges echoed through the tunnels, nearly making the pair of fugitives grind their teeth. Ivan grabbed one of the torches from the wall, and they crossed the gate reluctantly, betting their lives on those passages ruled by filth and darkness.

  The stench was so violent that Micah felt his nostrils burning and feared he might lose his sense of smell. Rats fled from them as they wandered aimlessly through that maze of pipes and drains.

  Micah noticed the many spider webs along the way. He didn’t mention it to Ivan, but he hadn’t seen a single spider so far.

  The torch then illuminated a crossroads ahead of them. Small shafts of daylight—coming from manholes just above them, but out of reach—revealed worn wooden planks connecting the four paths, including the one they had come from. All exactly the same.

  — Which way do we go…? — the boy coughed; his face looked pale and he leaned weakly against Micah. He had been bleeding from that open wound for far too long.

  Micah looked around, bit his lip in indecision, until he noticed the water current. The flow of the channels converged at the crossroads and continued through the tunnel ahead of them.

  — The current’s going into the tunnel ahead—probably where the sewer drains out. — he concluded, watching his friend’s condition with concern.

  — Then forward we go.

  That path was silent. Far too silent.

  No squealing of rats.

  No more constant dripping of water.

  Their footsteps echoed less.

  Even the ever-present sound of flowing water was muffled.

  As if the environment itself were hiding… but from what?

  The deeper they went into that tunnel, the more webs appeared, until it became impossible to ignore them. They covered the walls, the ceiling, the floor. At a certain point, it even became difficult for Micah to walk over them.

  — I really didn’t know there was an infestation here. Wait… what’s that? — Ivan pointed at a bulge in the wall.

  They approached the object, the torchlight making it clearer and clearer.

  Clearer.

  And clearer.

  And more…

  Ivan stopped.

  On the wall, stuck in webs, was a clay statue. Without any limbs besides its head, bearing an expression of indescribable horror. The kind of face you only see on people who have just been decapitated, enjoying their final seconds of consciousness before eternal darkness.

  Ivan panted nonstop, as if he were drowning in his own sweat after running the entire length of the Andes mountain range.

  — W-we have to get out of here. NOW! — the kid screamed in panic.

  — What? But why?

  Micah suddenly felt chills run through his entire body. His mouth went dry.

  He felt spikes in his heart and something scratching at his brain. It wasn’t ordinary fear; it was something far beyond, an instinct no creature outside that world would ever have.

  The emotion wasn’t his.

  It belonged to something inside his subconscious.

  That thing, whatever it was, felt cornered and begged for help. And Micah knew he had to answer—not like a mother saving her child or a husband helping his wife. It was something infinitely more intimate; and yet, it could never be called love.

  He turned around. The only sound that existed at that moment was his heartbeat.

  A hand was gripping the top of the entrance, and close to the ground, something reflected the torchlight. Four red eyes, focused directly on the pair.

  They were frozen. They stared at the creature, and it stared back.

  Then it finally revealed itself.

  The thing was nothing Micah had ever seen—or even imagined—in his life. It was like a tarantula, but the size of a car, without an abdomen and with ten legs. Just above the cephalothorax, a pale woman was fused to the creature from the waist down. She wore a perfectly white dress, and in place of her head, the tarantula’s abdomen—previously missing—was attached to her neck, far too thin, threatening to snap under the absurd weight.

  Before Micah could even process its shape, they heard a loud growl—like a cat’s, only far more guttural. The monster bared its arm-sized fangs and charged at them, slamming into the walls and tripping over itself, as if it didn’t know how to control its own body.

  And they ran.

  Ran harder than ever.

  — WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?! — Micah shouted, gasping.

  — A Soulless! Just stop talking and run! — Ivan suddenly stumbled and began to cry. Blood poured nonstop from his leg as he crawled. — I can’t run anymore… HELP ME!

  Micah stopped and looked back, biting his lip so hard he tasted his own blood.

  He looked at Ivan on the ground, seeing him act like a real child for the first time since they’d met. Then he looked at the monster, still chasing them with the same ferocity.

  He wasn’t sure he could run carrying that much weight.

  He was weak, useless—he’d never manage it.

  But, on the other hand, he couldn’t bear carrying another regret of that magnitude. He’d never have a chance to be happy again. His head hurt, but there was no more time to think.

  So, knowing he would die either way, he decided to step out of character for once and gamble with fate.

  He crouched in front of the boy:

  — GO! Get on before I change my mind!

  The Lobster climbed onto his back, wrapping his arms around Micah’s neck and locking his legs around his waist. As soon as he stood, Micah let out a groan of effort—it was like trying to run with a sack of cement. He felt like his spine was about to snap.

  He kicked his sandals away and ran again. He didn’t even know why he was trying so hard. He wanted to die; why didn’t he just stop?

  But then he thought of that limbless clay statue. He feared that might be his fate. That looked painful, and he hated pain; so all that remained was to run.

  Micah’s pupils constricted and his breathing faltered for a moment:

  — I… I’m seeing a light.

  — It’s the exit! — Ivan exclaimed.

  Unexpectedly, the tremors caused by the creature’s steps ceased. Micah looked back, confused. It lowered its abdomen onto its own neck, releasing a sticky substance.

  It looked like it was weaving something with its fingers.

  The monster then grabbed the pointed object, now hardened, and shifted its stance.

  The dart flew so fast that only a whistle could be heard before a thunderous impact echoed through the tunnel.

  Micah went pale. If he’d been a little more to the left, his brains would already be splattered across the floor.

  The creature’s arm was bleeding; the entire limb was purple, and it tried to set its shoulder back in place, as if it didn’t know how to control the strength of its own throw.

  Once its shoulder was restored, it produced more of its web and stuck it to several bricks, bars, clay statues, and anything else it found along the way. Then it grabbed all the strands together and displaced its own spine, twisting impossibly along its axis to hurl everything at once, the cords cracking like whips.

  Micah threw himself to the ground without thinking. He shielded the boy with his own body, grunting in pain as he felt several bricks crash down over him, reactivating old bruises. The air was forced from his lungs, and when he tried to draw it back in, a searing pain tore through his ribs. He had probably fractured something, but there was no time to think about that—he had to reach the light at the end of the tunnel.

  He tried to stand, but failed miserably. Ivan had already lost consciousness.

  He struggled again, but collapsed, every movement making his body burn as if on fire. The tremors were growing louder.

  The monster was approaching.

  Micah used the last crumbs of his strength to crawl toward the light, tears streaming down his face.

  — No… no… the exit’s so close… — something enormous pressed down on his back, and he felt two claws slowly pierce his skin, the pain in his ribs intensifying. — AHHHHH!

  A shriek, so loud it made Micah cover his ears, suddenly rang out; the giant limb lifted off him.

  When he looked back, he saw the monster impaled by what looked like a metallic tentacle coming from the ceiling. Several of these metal tentacles pierced the ground in front of and behind the pair of fugitives, trapping them in that space.

  The creature thrashed and writhed, somehow still moving even with its head skewered.

  And then Micah heard footsteps and the clinking of iron plates that sounded familiar. From the darkness emerged Ezra’s anonymous bodyguard, walking calmly, as if the monster before him were just another wild animal. He carried nothing but his armor and a lantern strapped to his waist. He removed one of his gauntlets and the leather glove beneath it.

  With his bare hand, he extended his arm and rested his palm on the cornered beast. Then he spoke in a loud, clear voice, like an order:

  — Forget how to move.

  As if it understood human language, the monster collapsed to the ground. Its eyes were still open in confusion, but it was paralyzed.

  — Forget how to breathe.

  And its growls stopped.

  And finally…

  — Forget… how to exist.

  Micah couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed.

  In the blink of an eye, the creature vanished.

  It didn’t shatter.

  It didn’t liquefy.

  It didn’t even turn to smoke.

  It simply… disappeared. As if it had never existed.

  The anonymous man casually put his glove and gauntlet back on. He looked at the unconscious boy on the ground. Then he turned to Micah, who was still sitting there, stunned.

  — You’re coming with me.