Omega-2 never truly sleeps. This underground city pulses like an old heart—still beating, though no one knows for whom. But that night, behind quarantine walls and its hushed corridors, something larger was growing—quietly, yet unstoppable.
Kael sat alone in the quarantine chamber. The screen before him replayed a cryptic message recorded years ago. The voice—flat, cold, yet familiar—came from someone he thought long dead.
"Don't trust the face you call mother..." – Eris Vale
The words echoed like shattered glass inside his skull.
Liora Vale. The woman who raised him. Who shielded him from storms—yet might also be opening the gates to Nexus. He wanted to deny it. But system reports had begun to point toward a singular node:
"Subject Vale (Liora): Class-F Anomaly. Instability potential. Location: Omega-2."
Yet that line opened a box he'd kept sealed—whether out of fear or knowledge: his mother wasn't the only problem.
What if it wasn't just Liora? What if his own body—Kael Vale—carried more than trauma?
He had once been labeled resilience subject 97-A, the boy whose cells refused to die even when burned by procedure. He remembered white rooms, the smell of disinfectants, and machines humming like false prayers. And—be it illusion or inherited pain—he remembered a piercing tool at his neck... before he could even say "help."
"Tracking unit implanted in the cervical bone structure." "Forced removal may cause neuro-motor disruption." "Subject displays passive adaptation to systemic invasion."
Kael had burned the documents. But his body never forgot. Sometimes, his nape felt like it was breathing on its own—as if listening to something not of this world.
If Liora's body was Nexus's doorway… then his own was the map. And he had never told anyone.
Then came the unexpected.
Hours after the chip extraction—carried out discreetly by Omega-2's underground medics—his body didn't collapse. He waited for motor dysfunctions or waves of migraine to crash into his skull.
All that came was a dull ache—like a wound finally removed. Then... nothing. Silence. Clarity.
He recovered. Fast. Too fast.
"This makes no sense," he muttered. "I should be paralyzed. But I can stand—and think—clearly."
He clenched and opened his fists. Perfect reflex.
Only one conclusion formed:
Omega-2's internal sensory systems were more advanced than Nexus's. And that fact—more than shocking—chilled his blood.
Yet by nightfall, it still felt as if something behind his neck hadn't left. Not pain, but... awareness. A silence that watched from beneath his skin.
---
Then the call came. Seraph summoned him to the tactical room.
"Liora's records don't align with our sensors. There's residual neural metal activity—likely remnants from past experiments."
Kael didn't respond. But connections he didn't want to believe began stitching together.
If Liora had a tracking chip—damaged or not—she was a flame signal in a dark city. Nexus could see her. Mark her. Breach Omega-2 from within.
And if Kael bore a similar signal—did that mean they were all shadows in an experimental labyrinth?
He couldn't bring himself to say it. Not to Seraph. Not to Liora. Not to anyone.
---
That night, he sat beside Liora's recovery capsule.
"If you want to leave me, just do it," said Liora. "But don't pretend it's for my sake."
Kael held her hand. "I'm not leaving you. I'm hiding you from something I haven't even seen clearly yet."
Liora gave a faint smile. "You don't trust me anymore."
"It's not about trust," Kael whispered. "It's about what might have been planted in you... when we knew nothing."
Silence lingered. Then Liora murmured, almost to herself:
"This place smells the same... like back then. Cold. Like a body that never got a name."
Kael said nothing. But he knew—Liora remembered something that could never be repaired.
---
✦ Silent Zone.
This place was more than a location. It was a scar in history. Hidden in the ruins of the first underground generation. Its walls coated in natural electromagnetic dust from old minerals. No waves could enter. No signal could leave. The air felt like a sleep that was never woken.
Once, this place hid failed experiment children. Now, only eternal silence remained.
As they arrived, Liora stared at the rusted walls and soft blue lights above the concrete ceiling.
"This feels like... a prison," she whispered.
Kael looked at her. "It's a fortress. For you. For Omega-2."
Before leaving, he placed a special comm chip—without signal. It could only be opened if he returned physically.
"If I fail, don't wait. But if I make it... I'll come back."
And as the heavy door closed slowly, Kael thought:
"Sometimes, the world must fall into total silence... before resistance can be heard."
---
At Omega-2's terminal corridor, the small team gathered.
Rav leaned against the wall, tuning a plasma-forged weapon. Nyx—a quiet youth, silent admirer of Kael Vale. Taken in by Seraph during Evacuation 17. Once a backup technician, now redrawing the old-world map with a nearly dead digital pencil.
"You sure this is the route Kael will take?" Rav whispered.
Nyx didn't answer. He pressed the schematic deeper and stared out: "I'm not sure. But it's the only point he stared at... when looking at the old-world map."
Rav scoffed. "You're crazy."
"If Kael leaves... I want to follow," Nyx whispered.
And Pari—silent, but eyes burning like a quiet torch.
---
Moments later, Kael stood before them. In the monitoring room, Seraph watched from a cracked tactical screen.
"What are you all? A strike team? Explorers? Or just collective suicide?"
Kael looked at him briefly, then turned back to the team.
"We are not soldiers. Not programs. We are mistakes. But from this mistake... a world can be rebuilt."
"Their system is too perfect. It leaves no room for the flawed. But we... are Genesis Error."
Pari nodded. Nyx held his breath. Rav clenched his fist. And Seraph, from afar—for the first time—smiled.
"I'll remain in Omega-2," he said through the small speaker. "To keep the doors shut. If you succeed, the world will hear us. If not... I'll make sure they never know where you came from."
---
They stepped into the manual launch tunnel. A passage to the surface long sealed—but still operable by hand.
Behind them: the last free city. Ahead: Helix Gate—the center of all lies.
Their steps were quiet. But not uncertain. The old world would hunt them. But the new one—they would build themselves.
---