The contestants’ resting chamber deep inside the arena looked exactly the same as before—a metallic box reeking faintly of disinfectant, narrow enough that if Z-69 stretched his legs a little too far, his knees would hit the opposite wall.

  The ceiling lights flickered weakly, casting a sickly bluish-white glow that brightened and dimmed like a dying heartbeat.

  The door behind them shut with a familiar click, cutting off the insane roaring of the crowd outside.

  Silence returned…

  Or rather, almost.

  John entered while dragging a long inhale from his cigarette, exhaling a thick plume of white smoke dense enough to resemble fog.

  “Z-69, in that last match… did you feel short of breath?” he asked, as casually as commenting on the weather.

  Lumina leapt off Z-69’s shoulder, landing on the metal bench, rolling once before lying belly-up, her chubby paws pointing toward the ceiling.

  “Wind… sand… dust… I hate all of it!” she groaned. “It stuck all over my fur! I’m gonna need three baths to get clean! Hmph!”

  Z-69 sat down on the edge of the steel bed, his body still feeling slightly… off.

  Not pain—but something like a “misalignment” with an old habit.

  He placed his hand on his chest, touching the area where the violet crystal pulsed evenly beneath his armor.

  He spoke softly, almost to himself:

  “Short of breath? No, I… don’t need to breathe.”

  John sat across from him, tapping his cigarette against the chair.

  “So you finally realized it, huh,” he muttered. “How many fights did it take for that zombie brain of yours to update? Three? Four?”

  Lumina flipped over and lifted her head.

  “Stop teasing him! He’s a zombie, his brain just lags a tiny bit!”

  Z-69 tilted his head slightly, unsure if she was defending him or insulting him.

  John let out a coarse laugh before he began removing the burnt armor pieces on Z-69’s shoulder, placing them onto the folding table to inspect.

  The armor plating was scratched, and the junction points with the energy conduits had partially melted from how much electricity Z-69 channeled at the end of the fight with Galeon.

  “I just repaired this armor earlier and now you’ve managed to ruin it again.” John said, tugging at a lightly charred wire.

  “At this rate, after your next fight I’ll need to pull an all-nighter crafting something that can actually withstand your electricity.”

  While John rambled and worked, Lumina paced back and forth on the bench, then suddenly propped her front paws on the seat’s edge, staring at Z-69 with an expression that suggested she was wrestling with something important.

  “Z-69,” she called softly. “I… think you should know about something.”

  Z-69 looked at her.

  His green eyes tightened slightly.

  “My dream.” Lumina began, tail drooping.

  “I keep seeing it. The same thing over and over. A battlefield… shattered… full of corpses… and fire. I’m standing there, freezing.”

  She closed her eyes, her voice slowing with sadness.

  “Then someone walks out of the flames. A person… with violet light glowing all over them like a torch. Warm. Safe. Like I’ve known him before.”

  Z-69 straightened.

  Even though his expression didn’t change, something in the air around him stilled.

  Lumina continued, the crystal on her forehead glowing faintly blue:

  “That person always tells me… ‘Wait for me to return.’ Always the same.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  A long silence followed.

  Then she spoke the sentence that changed the entire room’s atmosphere:

  “You… aren’t that person. But the crystal on your chest… gives me the same feeling. Really familiar. Really warm.”

  Z-69’s heart—or the part that replaced it—didn’t beat faster.

  But something tightened inside him, a strange sensation he didn’t know how to name.

  Not pain.

  Not fear.

  Something that made him want to remember…

  but could not.

  He asked:

  “Why… do you think I’m connected to that dream?”

  “Because…” Lumina lowered her head, ears drooping.

  “Because you feel like the crystal that spoke to me. Not like a human.”

  “A promise.” Z-69 murmured.

  John froze mid-screw.

  “That sounds dangerous.” he said, voice intentionally light, though his eyes sharpened. “Lumina, are you telling a story or triggering psychological instability?”

  Lumina glared. “I’m telling the truth!”

  John sighed.

  “Alright, alright. Let me explain this fox properly, before more misunderstandings pile up.”

  He stood up, dragged his chair closer, and faced both Z-69 and Lumina.

  “Listen carefully. Lumina—she wasn’t some ancient mythical creature. She used to be just a normal fox.”

  “A very pretty fox!” Lumina interjected, raising a paw proudly.

  “Yes, pretty.” John grumbled. “Until we pulled her into the experiment. Back then we were testing core implantation in living creatures.”

  Z-69 touched his chest lightly.

  “Like… my core?”

  John nodded.

  “To simplify it—yes. Your core is special, but Lumina’s core isn’t any less special. It’s a pure spiritual-energy core, extremely rare. The whole point of the experiment was to create ‘artificial spirit beasts’ to assist in combat.”

  Lumina puffed her chest proudly.

  “And I was the most successful!”

  “Too successful.” John said.

  “Your psychic ability was so strong it drove every researcher who saw you into hallucinations. They went insane just from seeing what they desired most.”

  Lumina shrank a little.

  “I didn’t mean to! They wanted to dissect me! I was just… defending myself!”

  John turned to Z-69, face contorted.

  “You hear that? Don’t be fooled by her fluff. She’s a walking psychic bomb. We had to seal her because no one could handle her. With no one left to make insane, she eventually went into hibernation out of boredom.”

  Lumina pouted. “Being alone is lonely, okay…”

  Z-69 observed her for a moment, as if decoding her.

  Then he asked John:

  “And me?”

  The air shifted.

  John’s expression turned serious—a rare occurrence.

  “You’re different. Completely different. You’re not a living experiment. As you know, you died 300 years ago. Performing a core graft on a corpse is nearly impossible.”

  Lumina gasped.

  Z-69 remained calm, as if it were just another data point.

  “But I, John R., accomplished the impossible.”

  “It only cost 300 years, thousands of failed attempts, the destruction of Floor 13, and me turning myself into a cyborg.”

  “But I brought you back.”

  John’s voice carried pride, bitterness, and obsession all tangled together.

  “When Floor 13 was destroyed, my hope of reviving you was almost gone. But I didn’t give up. I wandered the Deadlands, learning forbidden magic—how to anchor a dead body to a life-force vessel to resurrect it.”

  “I used both biotechnology and forbidden magic to bind your body to the violet crystal on your chest. Without that violet crystal and its overwhelming life-force, I could never have revived you.”

  Lumina stared at Z-69, ears flattening.

  “Z-69… is bound to the core?”

  “Exactly. The core powers everything in him: movement, strength, even ‘life’ itself.”

  Z-69 frowned.

  “So I don’t need air. Don’t need a heart. Don’t need blood.”

  “Right. You only need energy.” John said.

  “If your energy runs out, the core can’t suppress the zombie virus anymore. You’ll fall into The Hunger.”

  Lumina hugged her tail tightly.

  John continued:

  “Now, your biggest problem is… fusion rate.”

  Z-69 looked at him. “Fusion rate?”

  “The percentage of how much the core accepts your body.” John explained.

  “Lumina’s fusion is high. Yours is at rock-bottom. That’s why you have so many issues: memory loss, self-damaging abilities, loss of control, insane energy consumption leading to Hunger so easily…”

  Z-69 asked seriously:

  “Is there a way to improve my fusion rate?”

  John shrugged.

  “There is. You’ll need lots of training. Fight more, use your abilities until you master them, keep your sanity to avoid falling into The Hunger. The basics. Over time your body will adapt and fusion will increase. Very long, very painful, very annoying… but doable.”

  Z-69 went silent, as if reviewing his internal system.

  Then he asked:

  “If my fusion becomes high… will I live like a human?”

  “Maybe.” John said. “Or you’ll become something else entirely. You’re already a high-level zombie. Even if you tried, you can’t be human again.”

  Before the conversation could go deeper, a “beep” sounded—the automatic door slid open.

  Elise walked in.

  No knocking.

  No waiting.

  Just walked in as if it were her own room.

  John immediately snapped:

  “Do you not know what knocking is?”

  “What for?” Elise smiled. “Even if I knocked, you wouldn’t let me in.”

  Lumina bristled, jumping onto Z-69’s shoulder.

  “You’re here to bother us again?!”

  “I’m here to give information.” Elise said, stepping toward Z-69.

  “About your final opponent.”

  She projected a holo-image.

  Mira appeared—a muscular woman with metallic silver skin and sharp eyes.

  “Mira.” Elise said. “Metal-body type. Resistant to electricity. Hard to cut. Hits hard. If you slip, she’ll snap your neck like breaking a candy stick.”

  Lumina growled.

  Z-69 stayed calm.

  “Can I win?”

  Elise tilted her head, eye glimmering with both caution and curiosity.

  “I also want to know that.”

  She turned away, then spoke just before exiting:

  “Four hours. Prepare.”

  The door shut.

  Lumina sighed heavily and curled into Z-69’s chest armor.

  “Please don’t let the next opponent snap your neck.” she mumbled, small voice like a kitten.

  Z-69 rested his hand on her head.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  John sat down, lighting a new cigarette, smoke drifting to the ceiling.

  “Yeah… I’m tired of hearing that.” he grumbled.

  “But whatever. Go fight. Each match increases your fusion rate.”

  Outside, the hallway speakers echoed:

  “THE FINAL MATCH OF ROUND THREE WILL BEGIN IN FOUR HOURS.”

  Z-69 re-equipped his armor, gripping his blade tightly.

  He didn’t know who he was.

  He didn’t know which world he belonged to.

  He only knew one thing:

  The final match awaited.

  And he had to keep moving.