EDGE OF RAVASNA — 05:21 AM
The sky slowly turned a dusty orange. Thin fog drifted over the ruins of the city. Ravasna still burned in the distance, even though its center had collapsed. On the edge of the forest, right at the cliff where the old evacuation path ended, Broxtler sat in silence.
Beside him, Shyblance lay down, her body bandaged and her breath still heavy. No smiles. No congratulations. Just two survivors and a world that still wanted them erased.
"This... isn't over yet, is it?" Shyblance whispered.
Broxtler didn't answer. He stared at the light colliding with the smoke of war. His hand still gripped a torn wire from the last explosion.
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OLD BUNKER — 06:10 AM
They found an old shelter. Cracked ceiling. Rusted stairs. The smell of stale oil. But it was safe enough to breathe. Shyblance cleaned Broxtler's wounds in silence. Her hands trembled, but her eyes didn't look away.
"You don't regret saving me, do you?"
Broxtler looked at her. "If I did, you wouldn't be sitting here asking that."
"...Rude."
"Efficient."
Shyblance chuckled. Then sighed. "Benito's still alive. Ravasna isn't dead. We just... ran."
"Not ran. Strategically pulled back. And the plan's not done."
"Strategic? From whose brain?"
Broxtler raised an eyebrow. "The guy who still has one bullet left."
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SECRET CONTACT — 06:31 AM
A metal capsule communicator powered on by itself. A digital message played:
> "To anyone who receives this: if Broxtler's alive, you'll need this. Ancient zone, Sector H-8, beneath the ruins of the old tram line. Access 'Key X' is stored there. Not a weapon. A foundation. Systems won't fall if the root stays intact."
The voice... was Josepo Staline's.
Broxtler clenched his fist.
Shyblance muttered, "So he was still hiding something."
"He wasn't hiding," Broxtler said quietly. "He was protecting."
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NEAR NOON — 07:05 AM
Shyblance hugged her knees, staring at the shadows reflected faintly on the bunker's steel wall.
"Do you think... we can still win?"
Broxtler sat beside her. "Winning isn't about standing over them. It's about making sure... they never rise again. If they heal... we become the infection."
Shyblance leaned her head on Broxtler's shoulder.
"Then... let's never let them heal."
Broxtler didn't respond. But his grip on his gauntlet tightened.
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TOWARD THE NEXT STEP
They prepared to move toward the coordinates Josepo left behind.
No victory. No celebration.
But they didn't need cheers anymore.
They only needed one thing:
> A path to the root of power no ordinary person has ever touched.
And today...
Two shadows moved once again.
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ZONE H-8 — 08:42 AM
The sky above the ruins of the old tram line was choked with ash and silent signals. No sounds except the wind and scraping rusted metal. Broxtler and Shyblance stood before the entrance of an ancient tunnel, surrounded by remnants nearly buried by time.
"This the place?" Shyblance asked, voice hoarse but firm.
Broxtler nodded. "Matches Josepo's coordinates. Zone H-8. Not even on Benito's military maps."
They stepped inside.
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UNDERGROUND CORRIDOR
The dark tunnel was lined with old sensors—some still alive. Smoke leaked from wall cracks. Each step they took triggered faint, mechanical sighs—like a system still trying to breathe.
"This place feels... old. But not dead," Shyblance whispered.
"Because it's not a grave," Broxtler replied. "It's a root."
They reached a triple-layered steel door. Faint digital text blinked:
> ZETA CORE — KEY X ACCESS REQUIRED
Broxtler pulled out the capsule Josepo sent. Inserted it. Click.
The door opened.
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ZETA CORE CHAMBER
A circular room with walls slowly lighting up with circuits. In the center stood a glossy black terminal, bearing a logo erased long ago from Ascadra's history:
> ORIGINAL CITY BLUEPRINT — PROJECT ZETA
Shyblance stared like she'd seen a ghost. "This is... older than anything we've seen."
Broxtler stepped forward. The screen lit. Josepo's voice played again:
> "If you're hearing this, the surface world failed to preserve honesty. Project ZETA is a blueprint for a city that bows to no one, cannot be controlled. But it can... be reactivated. With risk."
> "The risk isn't system collapse. It's the awakening of enemies long buried. The city can be reset. But those who refuse to lose control... will come."
Shyblance looked at Broxtler. "So this was the plan? Not a weapon... a system no one could own?"
"Not a plan. A legacy."
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CONFLICT IN THE SHADOWS
As Broxtler accessed the terminal, the screen flickered. Two choices appeared:
1. DOWNLOAD & RECONFIGURE CITY (ETA: 17 MINUTES)
2. DEACTIVATE & DESTROY CORE
Shyblance said, "If we download, they'll find us. We'll be hunted."
Broxtler stared. "If we destroy it... the world stays broken."
Shyblance lowered her eyes. "Are we sure we're not just replacing one broken system with another?"
"I'm sure... if it's not us, someone worse will."
He pressed the download button.
> [ PROCESS INITIATED... TIME LEFT: 16:59 ]
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ALERT ACTIVE
Ancient sirens whined.
> [ TRACKING ENABLED — MUSSOLINA PROTOCOL: SINGLE TRACE DETECTED ]
[ COORDINATES UPLOADING TO CENTRAL SERVER ]
They exchanged a glance.
"Benito knows," Shyblance whispered.
Broxtler clenched his fist. "Let him come. This time, we're not shadows."
> "We're the roots... growing from what they thought was ashes."
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