The echo of boots resonated in the stairwell, marking an implacable beat.
The mercenaries were closing the distance with every second. I remained crouched behind the thick stairwell wall, gripping the steel bar until my knuckles whitened. Evelyn breathed beside me, tension hardening her features. Words were unnecessary between us; her gaze conveyed the same fatalistic calculation tormenting my mind.
Facing them was equivalent to suicide. Four shooters armed with rifles against a technician wielding a metal pipe and a doctor armed with a pocket scalpel. The statistics guaranteed our absolute massacre.
"Do you have a tactical plan?" Evelyn whispered.
"Yes. Get out of here alive," I whispered back.
Evelyn closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose.
"I was hoping for a much more elaborate strategy," she said.
"I share your frustration," I admitted.
One of the men reached the first flight of stairs, ordering a sweep of the main lobby. I retreated, dragging myself along the floor, and summoned the System.
[BASIC ANALYSIS.]
The holographic interface scanned the surroundings in a blink.
[Alternative route detected.]
A luminous arrow pointed to a blind spot behind our cover: a maintenance door camouflaged in the wall panels.
"This way," I whispered to Evelyn.
Evelyn nodded, moving with agility. We slid toward the escape exit. Three meters. Two. One. My hand wrapped around the metal knob.
CLACK!
The mechanical sound of the latch echoed in the silence, instantly giving away our position.
"HEY!" bellowed one of the hunters, raising his rifle barrel.
"RUN!" I shouted.
BANG!
The projectile pierced the wooden door, shattering the panel. I flinched by pure instinct, my ears ringing from the deafening blast. The heat of the bullet grazed my perception, a blunt warning about the fragility of our flesh.
I yanked the door open violently.
"Inside!" I ordered Evelyn.
Evelyn crossed the threshold like a breath. I entered on her heels and slammed the door shut behind me.
"They’re in there!" one of the mercenaries shouted from behind us.
BANG!
A second impact splintered the frame, sending shards flying through the air.
"Keep moving!" I told Evelyn.
"Spare me the obvious instructions!" she snapped back.
We ran down the maintenance corridor. The space consisted of a narrow, suffocating tunnel, saturated with a pungent smell of dampness and cleaning chemicals. Behind us, enemy boots kicked at the splintered door.
"Block the exits, don’t let them escape!" the lead mercenary bellowed.
The confirmation of our hunt simplified the tactical variables. They already had us in their sights. All that remained was to run.
"Where does your plan point?" Evelyn asked between gasps.
I checked the interface. The holographic arrow pointed straight toward the building’s structural depths.
"To the lower level. There’s an underground zone," I replied.
"Do you have guarantees it’s not a dead end?" she pressed.
"I have none at all," I admitted.
"The level of your strategies is bordering on depressing," she said.
"I celebrate that you maintain realistic expectations," I shot back.
We reached the landing of a service staircase and descended taking the steps two at a time. The clamor of our pursuers intensified. The creak of the upper door yielding bounced off the concrete walls.
"They’ve taken the stairs!" another mercenary yelled.
We quickened our pace. Evelyn tripped on an uneven section, momentarily losing her balance. I grabbed her arm, stabilizing her immediately.
"Keep moving!" I urged.
"My legs respond perfectly!" she replied.
"Then squeeze out that speed," I said.
We reached the second basement. The route ended abruptly in front of a solid steel hatch. I pulled the handle with all my strength. Immovable. I dealt a frustrated blow against the metal.
"Mechanism locked," I said.
Evelyn planted herself beside me and pushed me aside.
"Step aside," she ordered.
She pointed to an industrial lever painted bright red on the adjacent wall.
"What does that activate?" I asked.
"Something in our favor, statistically speaking," she replied.
She pulled the lever down.
CLANG.
The internal bolts of the hatch retracted with a heavy screech.
"I appreciate you more every minute," I said, pushing the door.
"Save the flattery and focus," she shot back.
We crossed the threshold and pushed the heavy metal sheet closed exactly at the instant the mercenaries reached the lower level.
"OPEN THIS SHIT!" one of the hunters roared from the other side.
A dull rifle butt punished the steel. Followed by another. The barrier would resist for a very limited time.
We advanced through the new corridor until we emerged into an immense space. I stopped cold, processing the scene.
It was a logistics warehouse, but far from abandoned, it displayed exquisite military order. Boxes of survival rations, medical supplies, drums of purified water, light weaponry, radio communication equipment, and tactical backpacks filled towering shelves.
Evelyn stopped behind me, scrutinizing the arsenal.
"This requires impeccable logistics. Who monopolizes all this?" she asked.
I ignored her question and approached a wide work table illuminated by portable spotlights.
The surface was covered with topographic maps of the city. Dozens of red circles marked specific coordinates. Crossing the visual data in my memory, those points matched mathematically with the locations of the gigantic light towers.
"Evelyn. Come see this," I said.
She approached and followed the line of my index finger.
"They had prior knowledge of the invasion," I said.
Evelyn traced the marked routes with her fingertip.
"They’ve been consolidating this base for hours," she observed.
"The preparation time doesn’t justify their ability to predict the exact impact points of those structures," I replied.
I picked up a thick leather folder stacked beside the maps. It contained a detailed photographic archive: monster corpses, streets reduced to rubble, and terrified survivors.
One image captured my full attention. The sharp photograph of a black obelisk piercing the clouds. In the bottom margin, cursive handwriting read:
RUPTURE — PHASE I.
I turned the page, devouring the information.
The entities manifest as collateral damage after the Ruptures.
Next page.
The towers react in a directed manner. They actively search for a particular survivor profile.
I stood paralyzed, feeling a block of ice forming in my stomach.
Evelyn, reading over my shoulder, broke the silence.
"Particular survivor profile?" she asked.
"Confirmed," I said.
"What does that refer to exactly?" she asked.
"I’m piecing together that puzzle," I replied.
The supermarket tower had located me. The System had issued exclusive red alerts about my user. And in that hidden warehouse, I had just discovered that a squad had been documenting exactly my anomaly for some time.
The screech of the main hatch opening cut off my thoughts. I spun on my heels.
A man crossed the threshold. Tall, athletic build, dressed in a black tactical jacket. He wielded a semi-automatic pistol in his right hand and a combat knife in his left. He radiated a terrifying calm, an absolute control of the situation that filled me with more terror than any street beast.
Two of his escorts flanked his position, while the fourth blocked the exit.
The leader raised the barrel of his weapon, aiming directly at my chest.
"Drop the steel," the leader ordered.
I kept my grip firm on the bar.
"I reject your offer," I replied.
The man sketched a smile devoid of humor.
"Your alternatives are practically nonexistent," he said.
Evelyn stepped forward, partially interposing herself in the line of fire.
"We’re seeking to avoid an armed conflict," Evelyn said firmly.
The leader rested his icy eyes on her.
"That intention clashes directly with your intrusion into my facilities," he replied.
"We were unaware of the property’s ownership," Evelyn countered.
"Ignorance stopped being a valid excuse," he said.
His gaze returned to me, heavy and threatening.
"The steel. On the ground," he repeated.
I loosened my fingers. The bar struck the concrete with a metallic clatter. CLANG. I maintained eye contact, scrutinizing his features. There was something familiar in the jawline, in the way he held himself. Something I couldn’t place.
"Identify yourself," I demanded.
"Marcus," the man said.
He made a calculated pause, savoring the impact of his words.
"Marcus Vale."
The surname hit me like a distant echo. Vale. Where had I heard that name before? I couldn’t place it. Not yet. But something in my gut told me it would matter. It would matter a lot.
Marcus pointed at the table with a jerk of his chin.
"You were auditing my confidential files," he said.
"Of your exclusive authorship?" I asked.
"Entirely," Marcus replied.
"In that case, you possess the necessary answers to explain this apocalyptic scenario," I said.
Marcus let out a dry, brief laugh.
"You’re sorely mistaken," he said.
"You lack information?" I asked.
"I lack the identity of you two," Marcus answered.
His finger caressed the pistol’s trigger.
"But I have the absolute certainty that you represent an anomaly in my sector," he added.
One of the mercenaries adjusted the safety on his rifle.
"Shall we proceed with elimination, boss?" the mercenary asked.
Marcus raised a hand, ordering immediate restraint. He analyzed my posture for several seconds of pure tension.
"First I demand to know the reason why the tower fixed its tracker on you," Marcus said.
The knot in my stomach tightened. Evelyn glanced at me sidelong.
Marcus pointed the barrel toward the warehouse vault.
"That Rupture materialized barely fifty minutes ago. Its light pierced three full office blocks before anchoring itself over my operational base. And immediately afterward, you two burst into my basement," he continued.
Silence reigned in the enclosure.
Marcus tilted his head, connecting the variables.
"The tracker was after you," he concluded.
My heart pounded furiously against my ribs.
"I don’t know the subject of your accusation," I said.
Marcus widened his predatory smile.
"Save the theater of ignorance. You know perfectly well," he said.
He closed the distance between us, lowering the weapon a few centimeters.
"There are individuals experiencing direct alterations," he went on.
"Define alterations," I requested.
Marcus enumerated with his fingers.
"Strength increase." He pointed to the thug on his right. "Motor acceleration." He pointed to the second. "Expanded perception."
Finally, he fixed his eyes on me.
"Acquisition of Abilities," Marcus said.
The word vibrated in the air, charged with crushing weight. The echo of the radio warning crossed my mind: If you have abilities, do not use them near the towers.
"We classify them under the term Awakened," Marcus concluded.
I looked at the palms of my hands. Sensory Adaptation. Basic Analysis. The System operating in my retinas. I had just obtained an accurate diagnosis for my mutation.
"What is the fate of an Awakened?" I asked.
Marcus’s smile disappeared, replaced by a somber gravity.
"It depends on a crucial variable," he replied.
"I’m listening," I said.
"It depends on whether the structures catch them first," Marcus answered.
Evelyn frowned, demanding medical answers.
"What happens after contact?" she asked.
Marcus took a breath, weighing his words.
"A percentage simply evaporates from physical existence," he said.
"And the rest?" I pressed.
He held my gaze, distilling a chilling certainty.
"The rest abandon the human condition forever," Marcus stated.
A suffocating silence buried the warehouse. I rejected that sentence with every cell of my body.
"Do you manage figures on the Awakened population?" I asked.
"The census is a total mystery," Marcus replied.
"And do you fall into that category?" I questioned.
"My genetics remain intact. I am a standard human." Marcus pointed at the map riddled with marks. "But I’ve spent years accumulating resources and knowledge to confront exactly this scenario."
I was stunned.
"Years?" I repeated.
The mystery threatened to rewrite my entire understanding of the event, but time ran out abruptly.
A sudden blackout plunged the complex into absolute darkness. The mercenaries raised their rifles in unison, aiming at the shadows.
"Situation report!" one of them bellowed.
Marcus raised his gaze to the ceiling. For the first time since his triumphant entrance, panic cracked his mask of absolute control.
"The tower," Marcus muttered.
A torrent of white, blinding light pierced the concrete slabs. The same annihilating glow from the supermarket. My skull throbbed with atrocious violence.
[WARNING.]
[EXTREME ENERGY ACTIVITY DETECTED.]
Marcus roared, completely losing his composure:
"Immediate evacuation to level three!"
The nearest mercenary looked at him, frantic.
"What do we do with the prisoners?!" the mercenary shouted.
Marcus fixed his terrified eyes on me.
"Abandon them to their fate!" Marcus ordered.
That directive was more than enough. I grabbed Evelyn’s wrist firmly.
"Let’s move!" I shouted.
We ran toward the opposite perimeter of the warehouse. Marcus shouted one last order behind me, completely drowned out by the structural roar.
BOOM.
A massive section of the ceiling collapsed, burying the supplies under tons of rubble. The searing light flooded the enclosure, consuming matter in its path.
The hunters broke ranks, fleeing in panic. The terror burned into Marcus’s face confirmed an undeniable truth: if that militarized strategist was fleeing in terror from the luminous entity, we lacked any probability of survival in a direct confrontation.
I spotted a side service door, wedged into a corner.
I pulled it open, revealing an industrial ventilation tunnel.
"Get in here!" I urged Evelyn.
Evelyn slipped into the gloom. I slid in right behind. As I closed the metal sheet, Marcus’s heart-wrenching scream pierced the chaos of the collapse:
"THE AWAKENED IS HERE!"
I stopped cold, frozen by the accusation. Evelyn collided with my back.
"Move, Gabriel! What are you doing?" Evelyn demanded.
"Processing a critical piece of data," I replied.
I looked at the door vibrating from external impacts. I didn’t know if Vale was pointing directly at me or if his instruments had detected another threat.
The System resolved my doubt, materializing a screen in front of my face.
[COMPATIBLE IDENTITY DETECTED.]
My breath caught.
[USER CATEGORY: AWAKENED.]
Evelyn scrutinized my paralyzed expression through the gloom.
"Gabriel, report. What’s happening?" she asked.
I alternated my gaze between the blue window and her expectant eyes.
"I’ve just obtained the exact confirmation of what I am now," I answered.
The interface flickered, updating tracking data in real time.
[MULTIPLE AWAKENED ENTITIES DETECTED.]
[Distance: 427 meters.]
[One individual is converging rapidly toward your current coordinates.]
The echo of footsteps resonated in the depths of the tunnel. Constant rhythm. Bipedal strides. Human. But moving at a dizzying, unnatural speed.
Evelyn gripped her medical knife, adopting a tense guard. I crouched, recovering my steel bar from the ground.
A female voice cut through the atmosphere, emerging from the densest shadows of the corridor.
"If you value your lives, cancel all noise immediately," the stranger ordered.
I had no visual confirmation. I sought eye contact with Evelyn; she reflected my same maximum alert.
The voice issued its second order.
"And lower those weapons before causing an accident," the stranger added.
A silhouette emerged at the opposite end of the tunnel. A woman. Her face remained hidden in the darkness, but her eyes captured the faint crimson glow of the emergency lights, shining with a supernatural intensity.
"Because if Marcus’s squad manages to get through that door..." The stranger made a tactical pause, letting the mercenaries’ screams reverberate against the steel hatch. "Crying for your own death will be a luxury you won’t have time to afford."