——Echoes Before the Collaps
– May 10, 10:26 AM
"Accelerating to Meta Origin Mountain Station. Estimated driving time: 47 minutes."
Shawn barely heard the announcement.
His forehead leaned against the cool window glass, eyes tracking the cityscape as it blurred past.
Neon streaks melted into layers of industrial smog.
Buzz.
A vibration against his thigh pulled him back to reality.
His third burner phone this week.
The screen lit up. Mr. King's latest encrypted message appeared in jagged, blood-red script:
> Chairman Da's political network is critical for locating the remaining Core holders.
Proposal: Offer Central Core stewardship as a bargaining chip.
Shawn's mind flashed to Gary—the National Guard leader.
Yes. This was exactly the leverage they needed.
Before he could react, the screen cracked—splintering like ice on glass.
Black, ichor-like pixels seeped through the fissures.
A high-pitched whine cut the air.
In one motion, Shawn yanked out the battery.
Too late. The circuit fried in his hand, releasing the acrid stench of melted plastic—and something else. Something... organic.
---
– 11:13 AM
The monolith towered before him. Obsidian. Impossibly smooth.
Its mirror-like surface devoured the morning light.
Up close, every inch was covered in intricate hexagonal patterns.
Too perfect to be natural.
Too clean to be human-made.
A deep hum resonated through the ground—through his bones.
His teeth clenched.
It was as if the monolith was tuning itself to his skeleton.
A biometric scanner bathed him in an emerald glow.
"Clearance verified."
A guard stepped aside. Black-and-silver robes. Pupils dilated into bottomless voids.
No retina scan. No second ID check.
Sloppy security for a place like this.
The titanium doors creaked open with a sound like a dying breath.
Inside: a corridor lit by pulsing bioluminescent veins.
Thick, glowing tubing lined the walls—like arteries in a living organism.
Through small observation panels, Shawn glimpsed researchers in white coats, hunched over floating holographic displays.
The readouts shimmered with complex, alien waveforms.
Looking too long made his vision blur.
This wasn't human tech.
It was older.
Far older.
And then——
A hand gripped his shoulder.
"You're not on duty, are you?"
A woman.
Low voice. Stern tone.
She wore a department chief's insignia.
Close enough for him to catch the scent of mint... and ozone.
Their eyes met. Her pupils constricted.
A flash of quicksilver.
His fingers tightened around the vial in his pocket. Cold glass. Slippery with sweat.
If he hesitated, the shadow-dust would trigger every scanner in this place.
But her eyes... left no room for doubt.
He crushed the vial.
A silent burst of particles dispersed into the air.
Within seconds, her mind rewrote itself.
Her expression softened.
"Oh, you're the temp transfer from Eastern Bureau," she muttered. "Here to review quarantine protocols. Director mentioned it."
Shawn nodded.
Didn't say a word.
She turned. He followed.
Deeper into the corridor.
And the hum?
It wasn't just sound anymore.
It was breath.
---
– 12:00 AM
At the corridor's end, a figure emerged—melting from the darkness.
Mr. King.
His iconic trench coat still stood tall, but scorch marks scarred the fabric.
The air around him stank of copper and gunpowder.
A jagged cut ran down his jaw.
Black-tinged blood dripped and evaporated mid-air.
"They changed the schedule," he said, voice raw.
"Chairman Da won't come in person. But he's our only link to the remaining Core holders."
A hologram ignited between them.
Eight glowing points orbited a hollow center.
Pulsing. Syncing.
Alive.
Shawn knew it at once—
The Arcane Cores.
Their last known locations.
His hand brushed the pendant under his shirt.
The Thunder Core. Still warm against his chest.
Mr. King moved swiftly, isolating one node.
"Chairman Da's network sees more than ours ever could," he said. "If we hand him the Central Core—temporarily—we buy time.We both know Sect won't give up control. But maybe… just maybe… a delay is enough."
Shawn's jaw tensed.
His eyes locked with King's.
"I know," he whispered.
"This time, every second changes everything."
King nodded.
Expression unreadable.
"Remember, Shawn," he said, voice lowering.
"We're not fighting for victory.
We're fighting so humanity has the chance to be free."
Silence.
The hologram flickered. Shadows danced between them.
And then—
The klaxon hit like a physical punch.
A sonic weapon disguised as an alarm.
Shawn staggered as the pitch spiked.
His neural implants kicked in—barely holding back the panic.
The lights turned red.
Sirens screamed.
Through the observation glass—
Twenty O.S.S soldiers advanced.
Matte-black gear.
Synchronized steps.
Too perfect. Too aware.
A shared mind.
But something else followed.
Mist.
Not fog.
This thing etched light out of existence.
Where it touched—walls aged centuries.
Paint blistered. Metal crumbled.
It didn't kill.
It erased.
Even from here, Shawn felt the air thicken.
Oxygen drained.
The entity was feeding.
Mr. King shoved him.
A hidden side door cracked open.
"Go!" he barked. "Find Chairman Da before they lock the timeline!"
The hologram trembled.
Eight points exploded—scattering like shattered stars.
Shawn hesitated. Just a moment.
And saw it—
Under King's bleeding jawline...
Not a wound.
Numbers. Tiny, crawling digits beneath the skin:
1931...2031...1931…
"Remember," King's voice cracked—
Then shifted.
It was Lucy's voice now.
"The Loop isn't resetting time.
It's resetting us."
The door slammed shut.
Shawn's wrist display flickered:
> 2031.07.01 | 49D:10:12:30
But in the blackened glass:
> 03:21:01:D94 | 10.70.1302
From deep within the monolith, a sound rose.
Chanting.
But it wasn't voices.
It was the building.
Counting down.