The gunfire continued for a few more seconds. Bullets hammered the trapdoor and the edge of the pit, chipping sparks and concrete splinters. Marcus crawled toward the cover of some rusted oil barrels, cursing under his breath. The rest of us threw ourselves to the ground, seeking blind angles against the hidden shooter.
Jonah threw himself clumsily against the nearest wall, his chest heaving and his breathing reduced to an erratic whistle. His eyes were fixed on the dark pit.
"Lena!" he shouted, his voice torn by desperation.
From the depths of the underground, the same female voice answered, tense and charged with panic:
"Jonah! Don’t open it!" she shouted.
The militiaman raised his head, gripping his rifle with white knuckles.
"It’s me!" he said.
"That’s exactly why!" she replied, her voice cracking on the last syllable.
A second shot erupted below. The projectile pierced the metal sheet of the hatch, and the impact made the ladder vibrate with a sharp groan.
I dragged myself on my belly until I was just centimeters from the edge of the trapdoor. I inhaled deeply, forcing my pulse to stabilize, and activated the System. The scarlet holoscreen unfolded over the perforated metal.
STRUCTURE ANALYSIS
Material: Reinforced steel.
Structural damage: 18%.
Cover: Limited.
Armed targets detected: 1.
Distance: 13 meters.
Firing angle: Descending.
I turned my head toward Marcus, who was waiting for my report with his weapon cocked.
"There’s someone with a gun aiming right below the access," I reported in a rough whisper.
"How many?" the leader demanded.
"One confirmed," I replied.
"And the others?" he asked.
The interface flickered, unable to penetrate the bunker’s concrete layers.
"I don’t have a clear reading. The scanner is bouncing," I replied.
Marcus nodded dryly, assessing the geometry of the combat.
"Then we don’t go down blind. It’s a death funnel," he said.
Jonah gritted his teeth, stepping forward out of his cover.
"Lena is down there," he countered.
"And that’s why we’re going to get her out alive," I intercepted, fixing my eyes on his with hardness. "I don’t want you charging in like a martyr and ending up with your skull pierced before you even see her."
Jonah held my gaze. His muscles trembled from adrenaline, but the overwhelming logic of the situation finally broke him. He nodded, retreating into the shadow.
Marcus positioned himself at a blind angle beside the opening and pointed at the trapdoor.
"Gabriel, open it," he ordered.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Just a few centimeters. Give them a false target," he explained.
I knelt, keeping my center of gravity low. I hooked my fingers on the edge of the burning steel and slowly lifted the sheet.
The muzzle flash lit up the pit. A shot whistled millimeters from the gap, splintering the concrete ceiling above us. I pulled back with a jerk.
"Now," Marcus marked.
The mercenary stuck out his rifle barrel and unleashed a controlled burst toward the underground’s side wall, seeking suppression by ricochet. The man below responded instantly. Two shots. Three. Then, a metallic echo.
Afterward... silence.
I listened carefully, waiting for the clink of a magazine.
"He spent his ammunition," I said.
Marcus didn’t waste a fraction of a second. He kicked the trapdoor fully open, exposing the black abyss.
"We’re going down," he said.
Marcus went first, sliding down the ladder with the fluidity of someone who has assaulted a hundred trenches. Jonah rushed behind us, driven by pure anxiety. Before descending, Scarlett approached the hatch, taking a defensive position.
"Don’t take long," she warned, scanning the outer warehouse.
"Are you staying?" I asked before going down.
"Someone has to keep us from being shot in the back," she replied with her usual coldness.
I didn’t argue. Her logic was flawless.
I began to descend. The underground air hit me like a wall; it was icy, rancid, and stank of dampness and burnt gunpowder. When I hit the floor, I turned on the weapon-mounted flashlight.
The walls were covered in old concrete, cracked by mutated roots. The place was organized chaos: overturned metal shelves, supply boxes stacked like barricades, stained mattresses on the floor, and empty water bottles. Someone had used that place as a shelter for weeks.
The scarlet interface scanned the environment silently.
ENVIRONMENT ANALYSIS
Structure: Underground.
Original use: Logistical storage.
Subsequent modification: Survival shelter.
Residual Resonance: Detected. High concentration.
Jonah moved ahead, running his trembling fingers over the surface of a plastic table.
"Lena was here," he said.
I illuminated the spot he pointed at. There was a metal cup; the inside was still damp.
"Not long ago," I confirmed.
A metallic scrape, subtle but unmistakable, echoed to our right.
I raised my weapon immediately, aiming into the darkness.
"Hold still," I whispered.
We waited. The silence was so dense I could hear my own heartbeat. Nothing.
Jonah leaned toward me, sweating cold.
"Where?" he asked.
I pointed with a sharp gesture toward a half-open steel door. The System had caught the irregularity and was now tracing a partial silhouette in pulsing red.
[Movement detected: Hostile in cover.]
The door creaked as it swung open.
BANG!
I threw myself to the floor, scraping my elbows against the concrete. The projectile grazed my head, embedding itself in the boxes behind me. Jonah didn’t hesitate; he raised his rifle and fired a response burst.
The man who had emerged from the room let out a cry of pain and fell heavily behind some boxes.
"Don’t shoot!" he howled, coughing.
Marcus advanced without lowering his weapon, keeping his aim fixed on the improvised barricade.
"Drop the rifle. Throw it where I can see it," he ordered.
The man obeyed. A black assault rifle slid across the floor to our feet.
I got back up and approached carefully. The attacker was crouched, clutching a shoulder from which abundant dark blood was flowing. I invoked the algorithm.
BIOLOGICAL ANALYSIS
Target: Human.
Blood loss: Moderate.
Status: Conscious.
Combat capability: Reduced.
Note: Not synchronized. No Resonance signature detected.
Jonah lowered his weapon slowly, his eyes opening wide as he recognized him.
"You," he said.
The wounded man raised a gaze full of pain and fear.
"I... I didn’t know who you were," he replied.
Jonah grabbed him by the shirt collar.
"Where is Lena?" he demanded.
The man pressed his lips together, keeping a terrified silence.
A whisper of boots on concrete alerted us. Scarlett emerged from the shadows, having descended the ladder without making a sound. She carried her knife in one hand and the rifle in the other. She had a small cut on the side of her uniform, the fabric torn and darkened by moisture. The wound from the station had reopened.
"There was another one trying to flank you from the north tunnel," she said with absolute calm. "He’s unconscious."
Marcus frowned, assessing the stain on her clothing.
"Did they hit you?" he asked.
Scarlett lowered her gaze to the blood on her side with indifference.
"A scratch," she replied.
"That doesn’t look like a scratch," Marcus countered.
"Then stop looking," Scarlett said.
I holstered my weapon and approached her.
"Let me check. The System can give me an exact reading," I offered.
Scarlett pushed my hand away with a dry slap.
"I’m fine," she said.
"You’re bleeding," I pointed out.
"I can walk," she replied.
"Adrenaline keeps you on your feet, but your body is still wounded," I responded.
Her blue eyes, cold as ice, fixed on mine. The air between us seemed to freeze. For several long seconds, neither of us gave a millimeter. Finally, Scarlett let out a breath through her nose and looked away.
"Later," she said.
I nodded slowly.
"Later," I repeated.
We left the wounded man disarmed and continued advancing down the corridor. We reached the room at the end of the hallway. The metal door was closed.
Jonah stopped in front of it, resting both hands on the cold surface.
"Lena..." he murmured.
From inside came a weak breath, a whisper choked by pain.
"Jonah..." Lena’s voice answered.
He pressed his forehead against the metal.
"I’m going to get you out. Hold on," he said.
"Don’t open it," she pleaded.
"Why?" Jonah asked.
The silence that followed was sepulchral. Then she answered, dragging the words:
"Because he’s still here."
I stepped back instinctively. I looked at Marcus. The mercenary raised two fingers, indicating a pair of targets, and took an assault position.
I invoked the Area Analysis through the wall. The crimson information materialized before me.
[Human detected: Weak vital sign.]
And a second later, the screen suffered a slight static distortion.
[Anomalous energy source detected.]
[Origin: Unknown. Pattern does not match any known biological entity.]
[Warning: The signal is not organic. It is not mechanical. It is something else.]
I frowned. The dull pain in my temple returned, announcing a heavy reading.
[Second target detected.]
[Status: Human.]
[Synchronization: Confirmed.]
[Synchronization level: 4%.]
[Adaptation: 2%.]
[Detected Ability: Resonance Perception.]
[Mastery: Unstable.]
I looked back at the door, astonished by the finding.
"There are two people," I murmured to Marcus and Jonah. "And one of them is something more than a common civilian."
Jonah stepped back, gripping his weapon.
"Is one of them wounded?" he asked.
"I can’t determine lethality through the wall," I replied.
The doorknob turned with an agonizing screech. The door opened slowly from the inside, without us having touched it.
A man stepped out into the hallway’s semidarkness. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his civilian clothes were covered in dried bloodstains. He kept one hand raised, in a sign of surrender, while using the other to support himself on the doorframe.
"Don’t shoot," he asked, his voice raspy.
Marcus aimed directly at his chest.
"Hands where I can see them, slowly," he ordered.
The stranger obeyed, raising both palms.
"She needs help immediately," he said.
Jonah pushed him aside and looked inside. On a dirty mattress on the floor, a young woman was lying, pale as paper.
"Lena!" Jonah shouted.
I stepped into the room behind him, my weapon still raised. The System was pulsing in my retina, feeding me data I couldn’t ignore.
[Synchronized human detected: Elias Ward.]
[Synchronization: 4%.]
[Resonance compatibility with primary user: 71%.]
[Note: This individual’s synchronization is unstable. His ability is passive and perception-based. He is not a threat — for now.]
I kept my face neutral. But inside, my mind was racing. A synchronized human with a perception ability. Someone who could see the Resonance. Someone who might be able to explain what the hell was happening to me.
Elias looked at me. His eyes, tired and bloodshot, focused on something invisible floating in front of my face. Then they widened.
"You can see it too," he whispered.
I froze.
"See what?" I asked.
"The flow. The information." He swallowed. "You have one of those screens in front of your eyes. Like mine, but... more."
The silence in the room was absolute. Marcus looked between us, confused. Jonah was too focused on Lena to care. But Scarlett, who had just appeared at the door, was watching us both with lethal attention.
"What the hell are you two talking about?" Marcus demanded.
Elias didn’t take his eyes off me.
"About something that started before you arrived in this city," he said. "Something much bigger."
I held his gaze for a long moment. Then I lowered my weapon.
"We need to talk," I said. "But first, we get her out of here."
Jonah was already lifting Lena. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow. The wound on her thigh was wrapped in a crude tourniquet made from torn fabric, but the blood had soaked through.
"She’s lost a lot of blood," I said, activating the scanner.
BIOLOGICAL ANALYSIS
Target: Lena Hart.
Status: Critical.
Wound: Penetrating trauma to the left thigh.
Blood loss: Severe.
Immediate risk: Hypovolemic shock.
Required: Immediate medical attention.
"She needs a doctor," I said.
Evelyn’s voice crackled through the communicator on my chest.
"I’m up here," she said. "Get her to the surface. Now."
We moved. Jonah carried Lena, Elias supported her other side. Marcus covered our rear. Scarlett took point, her wound still bleeding through her jacket, but her pace steady.
When we emerged from the trapdoor, the sun was already setting. The service station was bathed in orange light. Evelyn was waiting at the back of the truck, her medical kit open.
"Put her here," she ordered.
Jonah laid Lena on the truck bed. Evelyn went to work immediately, cutting away the fabric, inspecting the wound, applying pressure.
"She’s stable for now," Evelyn said after a tense minute. "But she needs surgery. Proper surgery. This is just a patch."
"We’ll get her to the Bastion," Marcus said. "It’s the closest medical facility."
"The Bastion?" Elias repeated, his voice tight.
Marcus looked at him.
"You have a problem with that?" he asked.
Elias didn’t answer. He just looked at the ground. But I saw his hands tremble.
I stepped beside him.
"What’s the Bastion to you?" I asked in a low voice.
Elias met my eyes. There was something in his gaze—fear, maybe. Or shame.
"I escaped from there," he said. "A month ago. They were... studying me."
"Studying you?" I repeated.
"They wanted to know how my ability worked. They wanted to see if they could replicate it." He swallowed. "They have a room. The White Room. I don’t want to go back."
I held his gaze for a long moment. Then I looked at Lena, lying on the truck bed, her life hanging by a thread. Then at Scarlett, who was pressing her hand against her own wound, pretending she wasn’t bleeding out. Then at Marcus, who was watching us both with cold calculation.
"We’ll figure something out," I said. "But right now, we need to move."
Elias nodded slowly. He didn’t look convinced. But he climbed into the truck.
I turned to Scarlett.
"Now you," I said. "Let Evelyn look at you."
Scarlett opened her mouth to protest.
"That’s an order," I added.
She stared at me for a long second. Then, to my surprise, she nodded.
"Fine," she said. "But only because you asked nicely."
I almost smiled.
We climbed into the truck. Marcus started the engine. The service station disappeared behind us, swallowed by the darkening forest.
Inside the cabin, the silence was heavy. Jonah held Lena’s hand. Evelyn worked on Scarlett’s wound. Elias stared out the window. Maya kept watch. Selena and Darius sat in the back, silent.
And me? I kept my eyes on the road, but my mind was elsewhere.
Elias. A synchronized human. 71% compatibility with me. And a connection that the System couldn’t fully explain.
I had a feeling that whatever was happening to me, to us, was only the beginning.
The System pulsed in my retina.
[New objective registered: Protect Elias Ward.]
[Reason: Unknown.]
[Priority: High.]
I frowned. The System had never given me an objective like that before. Not for Evelyn. Not for Maya. Not for Lena.
Just for Elias.
And I had no idea why.