Men’s shirts and worn T-shirts lay strewn across the living room sofa. In the coffee table ashtray, a cluster of extinguished cigarette butts sat alongside a crushed aluminum can—a favorite brand of high-caffeinated energy drink among the Sentinels. On the floor lay an open, indecipherable electronic magazine.
The living area flowed seamlessly into an open-plan kitchen, though judging by the general disarray, the occupants rarely bothered to cook. Beyond that, the residential sector offered nearly every amenity imaginable: a study, a gym, a home theater, a gaming room, and a sports arena. Off the main lounge, set beneath a transparent, radiation-proof dome, sat an outdoor swimming pool filled with shimmering blue water.
"Bunny, when is your birthday? Let me log it in for future reference... What about your favorite dessert?"
The chatty robot rattled on, brimming with endless idle chatter. Bunny paid it no mind, continuing down the hall.
When she stepped onto an elevated glass corridor leading toward the training sector, however, she abruptly froze.
At the far end of the deserted passage stood a massive steel blast door, sealed dead tight.
Tap...
Tap-tap...
In an instant, Bunny’s Guide instincts flared to life. Even through meters of dense alloy, she could distinctly sense the terrifying surge of a Sentinel’s rampaging mental threads.
Frenetic. Unchecked. Teetering on the precipice of utter madness.
The raw force leaked through the heavy barrier—wild, violent, and desperate, like a caged apex predator clawing to break free.
An instinctual terror gripped her. It was the overwhelming intimidation born of an absolute gap in rank, heavy as a mountain crushing her shoulders. Every rational voice in her head screamed at her to turn back.
Yet, against her will, her mental tendrils began extending toward the steel door.
It was the innate, magnetic pull between Sentinel and Guide.
Having only recently awakened, Bunny was virtually untrained. She had received barely a week of basic instruction and possessed almost no control over her mental threads.
It was too late for retreating.
The second her pristine white thread brushed against the Sentinel’s dark, energy-saturated strands, the entire corridor plunged into a suffocating silence.
For a fraction of a second, time itself seemed to halt. The only sound in the world was the shallow rhythm of her own breathing.
Three seconds later, the man’s mental domain detonated.
An apocalyptic torrent of mental power crashed over her like a tidal wave, violently breaching, invading, and tearing into her consciousness. He was desperately searching for something inside her—begging for it, starving for it.
Not enough. Nowhere near enough.
The disparity between their ranks was an unbridgeable chasm, leaving her completely defenseless.
An agonizing, sharp pain pierced her eardrums. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, clutching her head as a strangled whimper escaped her lips.
Sunny immediately registered the critical threat. Sliding forward, the robot slammed its manipulator down on the red emergency button beside the containment cell.
Subjected to a high-voltage surge exceeding ten thousand volts, the Sentinel instantly lost consciousness.
The suffocating mental pressure ebbed like a retreating tide.
Shaking violently, Bunny forced herself back onto her feet. Her hands and legs trembled uncontrollably. "Who... who is kept in there?"
Even Sunny’s display screen had been scrambled by the mental feedback, flickering with garbled static. Its mechanical voice crackled weakly. "Uncontrolled... Sentinel. Liam. Mental entity: Greed."
Uncontrolled?
From the scant training data stored in her memory chip, Bunny knew only one truth about uncontrolled Sentinels: once their mental seas fractured completely, death was the only outcome.
Yet Bunny still held the values of a human. She couldn’t simply turn her back on a dying life.
"Miss Bunny, you cannot enter!" Sunny frantically darted forward to block her path. "An uncontrolled Sentinel is extremely volatile! No one is permitted inside!"
Bunny had already overridden the lock.
Cold white light from the corridor flooded into the chamber, slowly driving back the shadows.
Inside the metal containment cell, a dark-haired Sentinel lay unconscious, curled up alone on the bare floor.
Suppressing her hammering heart, Bunny approached with cautious steps. This was her first time laying eyes on an uncontrolled Sentinel.
The man was shirtless, wearing only a pair of heavily worn tactical trousers. He lay curled in an instinctively defensive posture, as though even in unconsciousness he was desperately seeking some sense of safety.
A sliver of pale light fell across his face.
His features were sharply defined, his deep-set eyes shadowed beneath a prominent brow. His angular jaw was clenched, his thin lips pulled taut from enduring agonizing pain. Short black hair framed a smooth forehead and striking, sculpted features. His skin was unnaturally pale, his dark lashes resting against his cheeks—he looked like a fallen, medieval creature lifted straight from a dark oil painting.
Her gaze drifted lower over his battered frame.
Broad shoulders. A narrow waist. Strong forearms with prominent veins tracing over lean, powerful muscles across his chest and abdomen. The sharp lines of his lower abdominals disappeared beneath his waistband, radiating a raw, dangerous intensity. A black tattoo depicting the fangs of a ferocious beast stretched from his right shoulder across his chest, savage and intimidating.
His skin was marred by a horrifying array of fresh wounds and jagged scars—injuries self-inflicted during violent episodes as he tried to tear through the containment walls. Some were scabbed over; others still bled freshly against the cold floor.
He was the very picture of a magnificent creature, utterly shattered by his own mind.
As Bunny drew nearer, the sweet, rich fragrance of her gardenia-like Guide pheromones bloomed softly in the enclosed air.
The Sentinel stirred.
His eyes snapped open.
A pair of amber-gold irises pierced through the gloom, sharp enough to strike straight into a person’s soul.
His gaze locked onto Bunny instantly.
The sensation of being targeted was absolute and inescapable. It was not merely the feeling of being watched; it operated on a predatory level. A crushing, unseen pressure—like an invisible raptor circling high above, watching its chosen prey struggle in vain.
Liam pushed himself upright with a strained, agonizing effort. His golden eyes remained pinned on her.
Then, he began to crawl forward.
One move.
Then another.
The instant he reached the edge of the containment cell, the electrified barrier discharged mercilessly into his flesh. A muffled groan tore from his throat.
Yet he refused to stop.
Again and again, he surged forward. Each attempt met the same brutal, blinding shock, until his body was covered in fresh burns and he no longer had the strength to stand.
Because she was right there.
Only a thin barrier separated them. If he could just reach her, he could touch the one thing his body desperately craved.
His salvation.
Bunny stood frozen, completely overwhelmed. She wanted to yell at him to stop—what he was doing was pure suicide.
Finally, Liam exhausted his last reserve of strength, collapsing against the base of the cell. The amber glow in his eyes dimmed as he looked up at her, carrying something terribly pitiful in their depths.
"Mm..."
A deep, trembling sound rasped from his throat—a soft, aggrieved whine, like a newborn pup whimpering for warmth. The rich, magnetic depth of his voice sent a tremor straight through her chest.
He was pleading with her.
Only then did Bunny snap back to reality. She dropped to a crouch, peering through the heavy metal bars. "Are you alright?" she asked softly. "What can I do to help you?"
She had no idea how to soothe a manic Sentinel. Her training chip contained no protocols for this state.
Liam simply stared at her, unmoving.
Silence stretched out in the cold room, long enough that Bunny’s legs began to go numb from crouching.
And then, at long last, he spoke. His first complete, unmistakably clear words.
"I want... your touch..."