Chapter 26 – Roots of Ruin
The corridor eventually leads me to a pair of heavy doors marked HYDROPONICS LAB 3. One door hangs ajar, its frame bent by some immense force and pried open by crawling vines. A humid breeze wafts out, carrying the scent of soil and something acrid.
I squeeze through the gap in the doors and enter a scene utterly alien from the steel and concrete tunnels before. It's like stepping into a jungle terrarium in the depths of the city. Bioluminescent fungi cast a faint green glow over rows of shattered glass planters and toppled grow lights. A tangled mass of vegetation has overtaken every surface: vines coil around broken equipment, tree roots burst through the tiled floor, and enormous leafy tendrils dangle from the ceiling.
Water drips steadily from broken hydro pipes, pooling on the floor in slick algae-covered puddles. The air is thick with humidity and swirling motes of pollen or spores. I cover my mouth with a cloth—no telling if those spores are toxic.
"This was an indoor farm," I whisper. Rows of planting vats and hanging garden rigs confirm that. It must have been abandoned long ago and nature (perhaps mutated by whatever chemicals were stored here) ran wild.
I step carefully between gnarled roots that crack the floor. My senses are on high alert; the tranquility of the scene feels deceptive. In my experience, the prettiest places can hide the deadliest threats.
Something skitters across the far corner—a small creature, maybe a rat or lizard, fleeing through the underbrush. Nothing alarming by itself. But then I notice the carcasses: a few desiccated shapes half-ensnared by roots. One looks human. I swallow hard and approach one.
The body is mummified, wrapped in layers of fine vine tendrils. A former lab technician, judging by the tattered uniform. The vines have penetrated the suit, bones visible beneath shriveled skin. As I shine my light, a cluster of pale flowers blooming from the corpse's ribcage snaps shut—were those blossoms feeding on it just now? My stomach turns.
System: "Motion on your six!" the AI barks suddenly.
I spin just as a vine, thick as a python, whips toward my legs from behind. I jump back, but it coils around my boot with startling speed and yanks. I crash to the spongy floor, knife flying from my hand.
"Argh!" I scramble, trying to kick free, but the vine's grip is iron. It drags me across the wet floor toward a dark mass of foliage.
In the dim light I make out a hulking shape at the center of the lab: a mound of twisted roots and scrap metal, almost like a throne, and atop it a grotesque plant creature. It resembles a colossal pitcher plant mixed with a Venus flytrap, its maw a gaping, toothed blossom drooling acidic sap. Thick vine appendages radiate from its base—and one of those currently has me by the leg.
I claw at the floor, fingers catching on a rusted floor grate. With a desperate tug, I wrench my free foot against the vine and manage to slip my ensnared boot off. My foot comes free but now I'm sock-footed and that vine is thrashing, holding my boot like a trophy.
Another vine lashes out with a barbed tip. I roll aside; it impales the ground next to me with a thunk, spraying a few drops of some dark resin on my arm. Instantly, my skin burns where it landed—acid. Great.
I frantically scan for my knife—there, glinting under a fern across a puddle. No time to grab it as a third vine swings overhead, trying to wrap my torso. I duck and sprint in a low crouch, barefoot on one foot, toward a cluster of metal shelves for cover. A vine shatters a glass tank just behind me, shards exploding.
From behind the shelves, I catch my breath and consider my options. The plant monstrosity hasn't moved from its root-throne; it's anchored there. But its vines reach almost the entire lab. They're like feelers, searching, armed with thorns and acid sap. If I get close enough to strike the main body, those tendrils will tear me apart.
Maybe I don't need to get close. I still have the stimulant injector—maybe it could empower me in a pinch, but it's not a weapon. Or I could try using environment again... Fire? There's old electrical wiring... If I can spark a fire, the whole place might go up, with me in it. Not ideal.
The vine holding my boot hasn't realized it's empty, and is still coiled around it near the creature. Two other vines quest around the shelves, sweeping and probing. One vine wraps around the shelving unit I'm behind and starts to pull.
"Time for some pruning," I mutter, scanning the ground for anything useful. My eyes land on a broken metal pole—a piece of the shattered shelving. I snatch it up.
As the shelf is yanked away, I dart out and swing the pole with all my might at the nearest vine. The improvised weapon shears through the thinner appendage; severed, it recoils like a decapitated snake, green ichor splattering. A shrill hiss echoes from the plant-beast, its maw quivering.
It responds with fury. Three vines come at me at once from different angles. I swing at one, deflecting it, but another whips around my midsection, barbs biting in. A third snags my previously freed ankle. In a heartbeat, I'm hoisted off the ground. The pole drops from my hand.
The vine around my torso constricts, spikes puncturing through my jacket. I scream as white-hot pain lances my side. Another vine snakes around my neck, not choking but holding my head in place as I'm slowly, inexorably dragged toward that gaping flytrap mouth.
I thrash, trying to reach any of the vines with my hands, but my arms are pinned. My vision tilts as I'm lifted, and I catch sight of dozens of bones and debris littering the base of the throne—remains of this monster's many meals. The smell of acid and rot intensifies. Panic surges in me.
"Not... like this!" I snarl through clenched teeth, fighting for air against the crushing grip. I feel the barbs break skin, hot blood oozing. My struggles slow; stars dance in my periphery. This might be it…
System:"Emergency protocol engaged!" The AI's voice suddenly reverberates internally with urgent authority. A surge of warmth floods my chest from the System implant, radiating outward. It's as if someone injected pure life into my veins.
In an instant, the pain dulls and strength returns to my limbs. The puncture wounds knit slightly, bleeding staunching. My mind snaps into crystal clarity. Emergency Heal — the System must have triggered a healing burst to keep me alive.
I won't waste this second chance. With newfound vigor, I wrench my right arm free from the loosened coils and grab the vine around my neck. Grunting, I swing my legs up and hook the vine holding my torso with my freed foot, leveraging my body weight. With a burst of effort, I pry the coil just enough to slip my shoulder and head out. I drop to the ground, landing hard on my knees but free.
No time to celebrate. The massive blossom in front of me opens wider, anticipating its meal that is no longer there. The creature emits a confused, angry warble.
I spot my knife only a few yards away now, near one of the planters. With a mental command, I Blink straight to it. In a blink-flash, I'm there, knife in hand.
The central plant is only a couple meters off. I can see its core: a pulsating knot of glowing green bioluminescence at the base of the flower, partly embedded in a tangle of metal — likely drawing nutrients from old power lines as well as flesh. That's my target.
I dash forward. Vines whip toward me from both sides, but my reflexes—bolstered by the lingering effects of the heal surge—are honed. I duck one, parry another with my blade, and keep sprinting.
With a roar, I plunge my knife into the glowing core, burying it to the hilt. The effect is immediate and catastrophic. The plant-beast convulses, its vine limbs flailing wildly in all directions. One smacks me across the back, hurling me forward onto the root mass. My breath whooshes out, but I cling to the knife embedded in its core and drag it sideways, slicing through the fibrous mass.
A spray of caustic sap erupts, narrowly missing my face. I fall clear as the colossal plant shudders and begins to collapse in on itself. Its maw-like flower slams shut repeatedly in a grotesque death spasm, and the vines writhe with diminishing strength.
I crawl away, collapsing against a fallen log that used to be a support beam, gasping for breath. It's over. The giant flytrap monstrosity gurgles and lies still, a foul pool of sap spreading around its severed core.
System: "Hostile eliminated. Vital signs... recovering." The AI's tone is relieved, if a bit shaky (for an AI). "Jet, that was too close. If I hadn't triggered Emergency Heal—"
"I know," I pant, wiping sweat and grime from my face. My neck and sides where the vines constricted burn like fire, but the wounds are partially closed thanks to the heal. That skill... or whatever it was... just saved my life. I feel a mix of gratitude and dread. It likely used a good chunk of my stored energy or something. "Thank you, by the way."
System: "All part of the service. Though I suggest not making a habit of needing it. 'Emergency Heal' isn't an infinite resource; it requires significant energy and has a cooldown, so let's avoid near-death scenarios for a while, yes?" The attempt at wry humor actually makes me smile.
I slowly get to my feet, surveying the ruined hydroponics lab. The remaining vines have gone limp without their core, and the glow of bioluminescence is already fading. The once deadly jungle feels eerily silent and lifeless now, aside from the drip of water.
XP notifications scroll up: XP gained: 60. Enough to push me over the threshold. Level Up! You have reached Level 8. I nod, feeling a subtle increase in my overall vigor as the System allocates a couple stat points (likely to Endurance and Agility, balancing survival and speed).
"Any salvage here?" I ask, limping around the corpse of the plant. The acid has eaten holes into the floor where it spilled. I retrieve my missing boot from the slack vine and gingerly put it back on, grimacing at the squelch.
System: "Scanning... The core itself is mostly destroyed. However, I detect trace elements of Neurotoxin Sac in those barbed vines. Could be refined into poison or antidote. Also, there appears to be an old supply cabinet in the far corner overgrown by roots. Potential med supplies."
Antidote sounds great after what I just went through. I carefully use my knife to cut out a couple of the fist-sized bulbous sacs attached near the vine barbs. They look like jelly pods filled with black liquid — the venom that almost stopped my heart. Handled properly back topside, these could be turned into life-saving antidotes at Aurora's clinic. I wrap them in a torn plastic sheet and stow them in my pack.
Next, I hack away at the roots covering the supply cabinet. With effort, I pry the warped door open. Jackpot: a few dry packets of nutrient solution (useless to me), a dusty trauma kit (bingo), and... yes, two sealed ampoules of broad-spectrum antitoxin. Exactly what I'd expect in a lab dealing with hybrid plants. I pocket the antitoxin and quickly apply a coagulant foam from the trauma kit to my vine puncture wounds. It stings, but the bleeding fully stops and a cool numbness follows.
I also find a half-full canister of industrial herbicide spray. The label has a cartoon weed with Xs for eyes. "That would have been handy an hour ago," I mutter, but take it anyway. Can't hurt to have plant killer if there's more nasty flora ahead.
Tending to my injuries and securing these finds takes some time, but eventually I feel steady enough to move on. The Emergency Heal did a number on me—though it saved me, I feel slightly drained now, as if I ran a sprint. The System confirms it tapped into my energy reserves. I'll need real rest soon, but I press forward a bit further to put distance between me and this corpse-laden lab.
On the far side of the hydroponics chamber, I find an exit door, rusted but operable. I force it open and step into a thankfully vine-free maintenance hall. Closing it behind me, I slump against the wall for a moment and just breathe.
This week-long expedition is turning into a greatest-hits of nightmare fuel: giant electrified insects, hallucination predators, and now mutant man-eating plants. Yet here I am, still alive, stronger than I was before. The System's push to grind combat XP has nearly gotten me killed, but I can't deny the results. Level 8 and counting... new skills literally saving my neck.
I allow myself a brief, weary grin. If nothing else, I'm proving to myself that I can survive down here on my own. That knowledge, that confidence, is a bloom of light in the darkness of the Labyrinth.
"Time to keep going," I murmur, straightening. I wipe dirt and sap off my blade and give it a quick sharpen with a pocket stone. Every level, every kill, brings me closer to the goal. Two more levels to go.
I flick on my flashlight and venture onward into the unknown, resolved to face whatever comes next with eyes open and blade ready.
Chapter 27 – Edge of Time
I continue through the maintenance corridors, the air gradually becoming cooler and drier. Faded signs on the walls suggest I'm entering some sort of research sector. One reads Chrono-Tech R&D - Authorized Personnel Only in block letters. Chrono-Tech… my heart skips. Could that be related to time technology?
The hallway ends at a fortified door with a biometric scanner—long dead with no power. But the door itself is slightly ajar, propped open by a piece of debris. Squeezing through, I find myself in a laboratory antechamber. The scene inside is bizarre: flickering emergency lights illuminate a room frozen in chaos. And I do mean frozen—I see shattered glass mid-way to the floor, suspended in the air as if caught in invisible gelatin. Papers are likewise hanging, stuck in mid-air descent.
I step forward and gently nudge one of the floating glass shards with my knife. It moves, but sluggishly, drifting as though time is half-speed in its vicinity. A chill travels down my spine. Something in here has warped the normal flow of time.
System: "Massive temporal field distortions detected. Caution, Jet." The AI sounds fascinated and worried in equal measure.
I navigate through the antechamber carefully. The distortion zones are visible only by their effects—a slight shimmer in the air, like heat haze. I slip between a pair of frozen paper sheets and push open a second set of doors to the main lab.
The main research chamber is large and circular, with observation windows (now cracked) lining the walls. In the center is a raised dais with equipment that looks thoroughly wrecked—likely the source of whatever accident happened. Scorch marks radiate out from it.
There, amid tangled cables and cracked generators, I see it: a sword, or rather a katana-like blade, embedded upright in the metal floor. It's unlike any weapon I've seen. The blade has an otherworldly steel hue, etched with faintly glowing circuit-like patterns. Around it, the air warps subtly, as if the sword itself is cloaked in a thin bubble of twisted time.
As I approach, a holo-panel on a side console flickers to life, startling me. A recording begins to play in grainy 3D projection above the console: a lab technician in a hazard suit, speaking frantically.
"--chronometric conductivity at 250% over expected tolerance! The Chrono Blade prototype is overloading the field stabilizers. We can't—" A burst of static. "Evacuate! Seal the lab!" The image distorts, time-stutters (fittingly), then cuts out.
"Chrono Blade..." I breathe, eyes locked on the sword. So this is some experimental tech weapon that caused an accident. It must have something to do with these time distortions.
Carefully, I step onto the dais. My movements feel sluggish as I push through the immediate aura around the blade. It's like walking underwater, each step heavy. Up close, I notice the blade isn't even touching the floor; it's hovering a millimeter above it, slowly oscillating as if frozen mid-fall.
I wrap my hand around the hilt. There's a slight resistance, like the air itself is thick, then suddenly the sword pulls free with surprising ease. Instantly, the weight on my limbs vanishes—the local time bubble collapses. A gentle pulse of energy emanates from the weapon, washing over the room. The suspended glass shards and papers around me suddenly clatter to the floor, time resuming normal flow.
System: "Temporal fields stabilizing... The blade seems to have been the anchor. Fascinating." The AI's words barely register; I'm transfixed by the weapon in my hand.
The Chrono Blade is beautiful in a lethal way. Lighter than it looks, yet perfectly balanced. I sense a faint vibration from it, like a heartbeat, resonating with the System's energy. When I give it an experimental swing, a subtle trail of afterimages lags a fraction behind the edge.
Suddenly, a klaxon blares. Red lights flash along the lab walls. Looks like removing the blade triggered some last-ditch security.
System: "Warning: Defense systems activating." No sooner has it spoken than a section of the far wall slides open, revealing an automated turret descending from the ceiling. With a mechanical whir, it pivots and targets me.
I dive behind a heavy lab table as the turret opens fire. ZAT-ZAT-ZAT! Three searing bolts of plasma scorch the air where I'd stood. The table sizzles, metal partially melted but holding.
This lab is about to become my tomb if I don't neutralize that thing. I grip the Chrono Blade, heart pounding. Time to see what this thing can do.
I focus, taking a deep breath. When the turret pauses (likely cooling down or recalibrating target lock), I spring up and Sprint forward, activating Speed Boost in mid-stride. My surroundings blur as I zigzag toward the turret. It fires again, but I'm moving faster now — the bolts streak past, one grazing my sleeve with a burst of heat but missing flesh.
Distance closes in an eyeblink. The turret tries to swivel to track me, but I'm already upon it. I bring the Chrono Blade down in an overhead slash with a kiai shout.
For a split second as I strike, I feel the blade thrum and the world around me tint blue. Everything slows— or rather, I speed up beyond the world. The energy coursing through the sword drags the immediate bubble of time into a crawl. In that heightened perception, I see the turret attempting to fire: the plasma bolt forming at the nozzle with agonizing slowness.
My blade cleaves through the barrel of the turret like carving butter. Sparks erupt in lazy arcs. I pivot and slash again across the turret's body. Metal and circuitry shear apart under the glowing edge.
Time snaps back as the turret explodes in a shower of electrical discharge. I find myself on the far side of it, blade still held in a finishing position. The two halves of the machine tumble to the floor behind me, smoking.
I exhale— a shaky, exhilarated sound. That felt... incredible. Whatever the blade did, it was more than just a sharp edge. For an instant, it was like I stepped outside time. The System is practically giddy, running analyses.
System: "Confirmed: Chrono Blade generates micro time-compression fields with each swing. In simpler terms, it can slow local time around its strike. No wonder that turret looked like it froze for you." There's actual excitement in its tone. "This weapon is one-of-a-kind. And now it's yours."
I carefully sheath the blade—well, there's no sheath, so I just slide it into the loop on my pack for now—and take stock. The lab is quiet again except for the dying whirr of the alarms. My body is still running hot with adrenaline.
The System pings: XP gained: 40 (Security Drone). Quest Update: Acquire Prototype Chrono Blade - Completed. It seems the System recognized this as a goal; maybe it set it as a dynamic quest when we saw the lab sign.
Another ping: Level Up! You have reached Level 9. I smile broadly. Level 9. One step away from the big one. And as if on cue, a skill notification appears, without even needing a selection menu:
New Skill Unlocked: Time Freeze (Active) – Temporarily slow or halt time in a small area for 3 seconds (subjective).
Time Freeze. I whistle under my breath. It looks like handling the Chrono Blade and the path I've taken has led the System to grant me a skill straight out of science fiction. "I... have to be careful with that one," I murmur. Such a power could be as dangerous to me and allies as to enemies if misused. But it's an ace up my sleeve that might just save my life in a pinch.
System: "Be advised: Time Freeze will significantly drain energy and has a long cooldown. But yes, it's as powerful as it sounds. Use sparingly and wisely." The AI is in lecture mode, but I detect a hint of pride, like it's acknowledging I've reached a new tier of ability.
I nod, already mentally running through scenarios where it could turn the tide. If I had this earlier... well, no point dwelling. I have it now.
I leave the ruined lab, making my way out carefully. With the Chrono Blade in hand, I feel a surge of confidence. My old knife was trusty, but this is something else entirely. I practice a few cautious swings in the corridor outside; each whoosh of the blade leaves faint streaks of light. I don't trigger the time effect fully—no need to waste energy—but just feeling its balance and the way reality seems to hum around it gives me goosebumps.
Level 9, armed with a legendary blade, and a new ultimate skill at the ready. I'm battered, sure, but I've never been more formidable than at this moment. The System chimes, as if reading my thoughts: "All necessary objectives for Level 10 push acquired. Next step: find some poor boss monster to test all this on, hmm?" It chuckles.
I tighten my grip on the Chrono Blade and smile grimly. The System is right. One more big fight is all that stands between me and Level 10. I can feel it – a sense of an ending, or a new beginning, just ahead. My week in the Labyrinth is nearing its climax.
I step forward into the darkness once more, senses heightened and resolve hardened. Somewhere in the depths of these tunnels, a final challenge awaits. And I'm coming for it, faster than time itself.
Chapter 28 – Predator Becomes Prey
Striding through the tunnels now, I feel a predatory confidence that was absent days ago. The weight of the Chrono Blade on my back is reassuring, and the memory of how easily it cleaved that turret plays on loop in my mind. I am no longer just surviving down here; I'm hunting.
Not long after leaving the Chrono lab, I encounter a pack of mutant hounds skulking in a drainage hall— perhaps drawn by the scent of blood from my earlier wounds. There are four of them: eyeless canine forms with too many teeth and patches of cybernetic plating grafted to their shoulders. They snarl and charge, but this time, I don't even flinch.
I flicker forward with Blink, appearing amidst the pack mid-lunge. The Chrono Blade arcs out in a gleaming slash. One hound's head separates cleanly before it can comprehend I moved. I pivot, using the momentum to bury the blade in a second hound's torso; time warps and it dies before its snarl can turn to a yelp. The remaining two snap at empty air as I Speed Boost sidestep behind one and dispatch it with a quick thrust. The last creature, realizing too late that it's outmatched, turns tail to flee. I hurl my old combat knife (relegated to off-hand duty now) and it finds the hound's neck with a yelp. Four enemies down in a blink, almost literally.
I retrieve my knife and clean it, heart hardly elevated. The System tallies the XP with almost bored commentary. +20 XP. This kind of skirmish has become routine. I have become the predator in these tunnels, no longer the desperate prey I was on day one.
Yet, even as that thought crosses my mind, I notice an odd stillness in the corridors ahead. I step over the hound carcasses and move on, and gradually the sounds of smaller creatures skittering or distant dripping water fall away. The air itself feels heavier, tinged with a faint musk of decay and ozone. My skin prickles.
System: "Area scan... hmm. Unusual lack of life signs. Minimal activity detected in the next sector." It lowers its voice as if to a whisper, "This kind of void usually means one thing: something big has cleared everything else out."
I nod, already on edge. It's the feeling of entering a lion's den: other predators vacate the vicinity to avoid the apex. Looks like I've found the domain of the Labyrinth's top dog. Or top monster, as it were.
Cautiously, I traverse a long access tunnel. The floor is gouged with deep scratches like claw marks. I kneel and examine one—four parallel slashes in concrete. Whatever made that has claws as tough as steel and incredibly strong. The marks are fresh too; edges of the concrete are still powdery, not yet smoothed by damp air.
Every sense alert, I continue. The tunnel opens into a wide chamber that might once have been a transit station or maintenance hub between sectors. Ruined escalators and platforms suggest this was a junction for people long ago. Now it's a tomb of silence. My flashlight catches bones scattered near a wall—many bones, both animal and human, some scored with teeth marks and others charred black. My pulse quickens at the sight.
"This is it," I breathe, unslinging the Chrono Blade. The hairs on my neck rise; we're not alone here. I can feel eyes on me, even if I can't see them yet.
Slowly, I walk toward the center of the station platform, stepping around old turnstiles. My boots crunch on debris, each sound magnified in the stillness. I roll my shoulders, loosening muscles, and take a calming breath. "Come on then," I murmur, voice echoing. "I'm here."
As if in answer, a low, rumbling growl emanates from the darkness of a collapsed tunnel on the far side. Two pinpoints of amber light ignite within the black—a pair of eyes reflecting my flashlight.
I grip my sword tightly. The eyes rise higher… and higher, to at least eight feet off the ground. Massive footfalls crack the silence, each step measured and deliberate. From the tunnel emerges the apex predator of the Labyrinth.
It's a monstrosity, standing on all fours but easily taller than a bull. Its form is vaguely feline, like a giant panther, but mottled with chitinous armor plating that sparks with embedded circuitry. Scars crisscross its hide, evidence of battles won. Clawed paws the size of dish plates scrape the ground, leaving fresh gouges. A long, sinuous tail sways behind it, tipped with a spiked club-like growth that looks capable of shattering concrete.
It steps into my light fully and lets out a breathy snarl, revealing saber-like fangs that gleam with metallic edges. This creature is both organic and machine—patches of synthetic muscle fiber peek between scales, and one of its eyes is cybernetic, a red glow complementing the natural amber eye.
My mouth goes dry. The thing is like a compilation of everything deadly in the Labyrinth rolled into one predator. The System whispers, "Analysis: 'Chimera Prime' - highest threat level. No known weaknesses recorded. Be smart, Jet."
For a long moment, neither of us moves. We size each other up in the gloom of the abandoned station. Predator to predator.
It moves first— a blur of motion and ferocity. One moment it's ten yards away, the next it's practically on top of me, having crossed the distance with a lightning-fast pounce.
But I'm not the same Jet who would freeze. With enhanced reflexes and the precog flicker of the System, I throw myself into a Blink just as a swipe of a massive claw splits the air where I stood. I reappear a short distance to the side.
The creature skids, surprised by my sudden vanishing, its claws screeching on tile. I seize the moment and slash at its flank with the Chrono Blade. The strike creates a spray of sparks on its armor and a thin line of blood where I cut flesh between plating. It roars, more annoyed than injured, and rounds on me with a backswing of that spiked tail.
I duck, tail whooshing overhead and smashing a concrete pillar into dust. The shockwave knocks me sideways. It's absurdly strong.
The beast doesn't relent— now it's a flurry of claws and fangs. I weave and parry, adrenaline surging. With Speed Boost engaged, I manage to evade most swipes by hair's breadths, each one coming so fast that a normal person would already be ribbons. I counterstrike where I can: a stab at a leg joint, a slice across its shoulder. Minor wounds; it's like trying to fell a tank with pinpricks.
The chimera's cybernetic eye focuses on me, and I hear a high-pitched charging sound. Instinct screams— I dive behind an old turnstile as a red laser beam lances out from that eye, scorching the air. The beam slices through the turnstile and the wall behind me, leaving molten metal drips. So it has a built-in ranged weapon too.
System: "Jet, your window to go on offense will close if it keeps range. Suggest forcing close combat but watch for that tail!"
The creature begins to circle, keeping some distance now, wary of my blade. Its eye glows, likely preparing another laser shot. I can't let it pin me down from afar.
I break into a sprint directly toward it. Sure enough, a thin red beam erupts toward me. This time I'm ready— I activate the Mirror Core's enhancement in my HUD; the world sharpens and the beam's trajectory becomes clear. I sidestep at the last possible second, the laser grazing past my arm. Searing pain flares where it scores a line across my bicep, but I grit through it. Better a graze than a direct hit.
Now I'm close. The chimera snarls and swipes downwards. I raise the Chrono Blade horizontally— its claws clash against the blade with a shower of sparks. My arms tremble at the force, knees nearly buckling, but the blade holds. With a yell, I channel everything into repelling the claw and riposte with a diagonal slash aiming for its face.
It recoils fast— too fast. The slash catches only air as the beast leaps back a good twenty feet, landing atop the ruined escalator with feline grace. Both of us pant, circling once more. Blood oozes from a few shallow cuts on its hide; sweat drips down my brow into my eyes.
This monster is unlike any I've faced. Even with all my new skills, it's keeping pace, perhaps even holding an advantage in raw power and durability. My minor wounds on it seem to only enrage it further.
As if proving the point, the chimera opens its maw and unleashes a bone-shaking roar. The station's remaining intact windows shatter from the thunderous sound. My heart thuds— it's a challenge and a promise of a brutal fight to the finish.
"So be it," I whisper, steeling myself. My fingers tighten on the Chrono Blade and I slide one foot back, ready to launch. Predator versus predator, one last round. This time, only one of us is walking away.
Chapter 29 – Cat and Mouse
The chimera snarls at me from its perch atop the ruined escalator, and I realize this battle is entering a new phase. We circle one another slowly amid the wreckage, each seeking an opening. Despite its injuries – one eye sparking where I sliced through the cybernetic lens, and blood dripping from numerous gashes – the beast is still very much in the fight. And I'm starting to feel the toll: the slash on my arm from that laser eye burns fiercely, and bruises ache along my ribs from glancing blows.
I take a cautious step forward. In a blur, the creature leaps sideways into the shadows beyond a toppled service kiosk. It vanishes from my sight. I curse under my breath, backpedaling toward a pillar and spinning in a slow circle, trying to cover all angles. My own flashlight lies smashed on the ground from the melee, so the chamber is lit only by dim emergency luminals and the red glow of the chimera's damaged eye when it occasionally peers out. My heart thumps loudly in my ears.
System: "Stay calm. Use your Perception boost. Listen." I close my eyes for half a second, straining my ears. A drip of water. The distant hum of city pipes. Then, to my left—a faint scrape of a claw on tile.
I whirl, blade raised. The chimera explodes from the dark, having crept low along a row of turnstiles. It barrels into me before I can fully react. We tumble across the floor, its claws raking for my throat. Only a last-second interposition of my arm and the flat of the Chrono Blade keeps those talons from tearing out my neck. Instead they clamp on my forearm. Even through armor, pain lances as its claws puncture and grip like a vice.
I snarl in pain, lashing out with a kick to its midsection. My boot hits metal-plated muscle— it's like kicking a wall. The beast roars and flings me bodily. I crash against a support column; something in my shoulder pops and hot agony flares. My vision goes white for an instant.
When I refocus, the chimera is already upon me, pressing its advantage. It pounces, one massive paw pinning my chest to the column. Claws puncture my jacket and bite into flesh. I gasp, struggling, but its weight is immense. The Chrono Blade is still in my hand, but my arm is trapped awkwardly at my side, the blade's tip barely tickling the creature's belly scales.
The creature snarls inches from my face, hot fetid breath washing over me. Its remaining amber eye meets mine with a terrifying intelligence—it's enjoying this, the moment of its triumph. Drool drips onto my cheek from between its fangs as it opens its maw to rip out my throat.
Time seems to slow—not from any skill, but from raw adrenaline shock. Is this it? No! My mind screams. I didn't come this far to die now.
System: "Jet—" The AI's voice is panicked, but I'm already acting.
In a last-ditch burst of will, I summon the energy for my ultimate ability. Mentally, I hammer the command: Time Freeze!
The world lurches. A wave of distortion ripples out from me. The chimera's drooling snarl... stops. Its entire body is frozen in place, paw still crushing my chest, drool hanging mid-drop in the air. The pain in my wounds dulls to a distant echo as everything goes silent and still.
A translucent chrono-clock icon in my HUD ticks down: 3... 2... I have scant seconds.
I grit my teeth and shove with all my might. In the frozen time field, the beast's massive paw moves with glacial slowness as I push it off me and wriggle out from under. I feel like I'm moving through thick syrup, but I'm moving faster than it can now.
1... I stand free and raise the Chrono Blade above the immobilized chimera. Its one good eye, locked on where I was pinned, doesn't even track me. With a raw scream of exertion, I bring the blade down in an executioner's strike aimed squarely at the creature's exposed back, where metal plates meet fur.
Time resumes with a thunderous crack. The Chrono Blade bites deep, cleaving through armor and spine. The chimera howls in agony, the sound modulating weirdly as time catches up. It collapses off to the side, my blade carving a long furrow down its back as it falls.
Not giving it a chance to recover, I unleash a flurry of blows, years of pent-up survival fury fueling each swing. I target the cybernetic eye—one slash and the device is sliced in half, sparking uselessly. I hack at one of its forelegs where organic sinew lies exposed—another deep gash that nearly severs the limb. The beast tries to roll away, but its hindquarters aren't responding; my first strike likely shattered its spine.
It wheezes, dragging itself with one functional paw, trying to retreat, to escape—no, to lure me. I realize too late the cunning in its remaining eye. With a desperate surge, it twists and swings its heavy tail at my legs.
I attempt to leap but my earlier injuries slow me a fraction. The clubbed tail slams into my calves. A sickening crack—I don't know if it's the bone or just the sound echoing— and I'm knocked off my feet hard. The Chrono Blade skitters from my grip, clanging across the floor.
Pain. So much pain. I scramble backward on elbows, but the chimera, mangled as it is, isn't done either. It lunges forward with its last strength, jaws snapping. Its fangs sink into my left thigh like red-hot daggers.
I scream, vision flashing. The monster shakes its head, tearing flesh. Only my armored pants save my leg from being ripped off entirely, but the pressure and piercing agony are mind-numbing. I smash a fist down on its snout, again and again, but my blows are feeble. My strength is flagging; blood is pouring from my leg and numerous gashes.
We're both on our last fumes now, locked in a gruesome deathly embrace on the cold ground. Predator and prey, lines blurred— each of us both at this point. The chimera's one eye glowers at me, determined to finish me even as its life bleeds out. My hands grope desperately around for anything— a rock, debris— to fend it off, but find nothing useful.
System: "Host vitals critical. Do something!" The AI pleads, voice cutting through the haze of pain.
My fingers brush against a cylindrical object on my belt—the Stimulant X injector I found earlier. With shaking hands, I snatch it free, flip the safety cap, and jab it straight into my abdomen. I slam the plunger.
The effect is instantaneous and electrifying. A surge of chemical adrenaline and who-knows-what floods my system. My vision sharpens, and a feral second wind roars through my muscles.
"RAAH!" With a guttural yell, I wrench my leg free from the chimera's jaws, ignoring the fresh agony. Before it can bite again, I throw myself at its head. My sudden vigor catches it off guard; I clamp my arm around its thick neck in a desperate chokehold. It thrashes, but its body is failing— only two limbs obey and weakly at that.
Using every ounce of enhanced strength, I twist with a savage cry. There is a grisly snap as I break one of its vertebrae further. The creature gurgles, its struggles weakening.
I release and collapse back, fumbling for the Chrono Blade. The sword lies just an arm's length away. With trembling, overstimulated fingers I grasp its hilt.
The chimera tries to crawl, but it's nearly done—its hindquarters drag uselessly, one foreleg crumpled. It still has enough life to fix me with that final baleful eye and emit a rumbling growl, as if to say it will never stop hunting me until one of us is dead.
"This ends now," I hiss between panting breaths. Summoning the last reserve of my strength, I rise to one knee and lunge forward, driving the Chrono Blade straight through the underside of the chimera's jaw, upward into its skull.
The point of the blade exits through the top of its head in a spray of blood and hydraulic fluid. The chimera's eye goes wide, then dull. A final shudder runs through its massive frame. Its remaining claws scrape weakly at the floor... then fall still.
I remain there for a moment, half-kneeling over the beast with my sword buried in its head, both of us unmoving. Then I stagger back and collapse onto the debris-strewn floor. It's over. It's finally over.
Chapter 30 – The Final Bell
For a long moment, I simply lie on my back, staring up at the cavernous ceiling of the station. The colossal corpse of the chimera lies a few feet away, a testament to the nightmare I just survived. My entire body throbs with pain—my thigh feels like it's on fire, my arm and ribs ache fiercely, and I'm lightheaded from blood loss and exertion. But I'm alive. By some miracle, I'm alive and the monster is not.
A shaky laugh bubbles out of my throat, turning into a cough. I fumble at my belt for a canteen and take a sip of water, swishing the metallic taste of blood out of my mouth. Each breath comes ragged, but stronger than the last as the stimulant continues to course through me. My hands are still trembling.
"We... we did it," I whisper hoarsely, hardly believing it. The System pings softly, almost in gentle agreement. It hasn't bombarded me with notifications yet—probably prioritizing my immediate survival over celebrations. Appreciative of that, I focus on stabilizing myself first.
I dig out the trauma kit from my pack, fingers slick with my own blood. Tearing open my tattered pant leg, I apply a syringe of coagulant foam into the puncture wounds in my thigh. It stings like hell, but the bleeding staunches. I wrap a pressure bandage tightly around it. My forearm gets the same treatment; the claw punctures there go straight through, but none hit an artery, thank God. With practiced motions, I splint my likely broken left ankle using a scrap piece of metal and cloth strips. Field Medic skill may be low-level, but it's enough for makeshift first aid.
Every movement is agony, but I grit my teeth and push through. I refuse to survive that fight only to die from neglecting my wounds. A couple of painkiller pills go down, easing the sharpest edges of pain.
At last, I sit leaning against a pillar, breathing slower, more controlled. The station is silent now except for the distant hum of city infrastructure. The predator's lair is mine.
My eyes drift to the chimera. In death, it looks almost peaceful, rid of the malevolent light that once animated it. I crawl over, biting back pain, and retrieve the Chrono Blade from its skull with a slick, unpleasant sound. The blade's once-gleaming surface is smeared with viscera. I wipe it clean on a shred of the creature's mane. As I do, I notice one of its enormous fangs, cracked loose and hanging by a sinew. On impulse, I saw it free with my knife and stash it in my pack. A trophy, proof of what I slew down here. Perhaps Aurora's scientists can study this, or maybe I'll mount it on our apartment wall to remind us of how far we've come.
I also spot a faint glint among the mechanical components of its shattered cyber-eye. Reaching in, I extract a small triangular chip—the core of its targeting system perhaps. Could fetch a bounty or be repurposed for something useful. I pocket that as well.
Now that my injuries are tended and the adrenaline is ebbing, exhaustion crashes into me like a wave. I want nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a week. But I can't rest here for long; Lexi and the others are waiting. I promised a week— and my internal clock says my time is just about up.
Using a broken rifle stock from a long-ago security guard (one of the unfortunate skeletons around) as a crutch, I force myself to stand. My leg protests, but holds. The stimulant is still masking some pain and bolstering my muscles, but it'll wear off soon, leaving me worse for wear. Better get moving before that happens.
At the far end of the station, I find a maintenance ladder in a shaft leading upward. Old painted letters read Surface Access. Seeing that, a lump forms in my throat. Surface. Home.
I sling the Chrono Blade across my back, secure my pack, and grab the ladder rung with my good arm. One step at a time, Jet. I grit through the pain and start climbing, each pull-up a battle against gravity and my screaming muscles.
The System finally chimes in a soft, almost proud tone, "You've come a long way, Jet." I huff a breathless laugh as I ascend.
"Couldn't have done it without you," I murmur. And I mean it. For all the System's snark and pushiness, it's been my partner in this. A strangely sentimental silence follows from the AI—perhaps the first time it doesn't have a quip ready.
Several minutes of arduous climbing later, I see a faint light above. Not the flicker of fluorescents or the glow of bioluminescence, but genuine daylight seeping in through a grate. Tears prick at my eyes. After a week in darkness, the prospect of sunlight and open air nearly overwhelms me.
I reach the top of the ladder, where a heavy metal grate blocks the exit. Bracing myself, I put all my weight into lifting it. With a rusty groan, it moves, and I slide it aside enough to crawl out into a narrow alleyway.
The late afternoon sun is dazzling, painting the alley in warm gold. I half-collapse onto the concrete, breathing in city air that, pollution and all, smells like life. Distant voices and hover-car hums tell me I'm back in my world.
I made it. From the slums of Mega-City Theta to the bowels of its underworld and back again.
I lean against the alley wall, letting the sun bathe my face. The System chooses that moment to finally unleash the torrent of notifications it's been holding back:
[Boss Defeated: Labyrinth Apex - +300 XP][Quest Complete: Solo Expedition - Reach Level 10]
My HUD flashes and I feel a deep, invigorating warmth flood me — the unmistakable sensation of a monumental level up.
Chapter 31 – New Horizons
A triumphant fanfare plays in my head as the System displays a cascade of updates. I blink away tears—whether from the sunlight or sheer emotion—and focus on the readouts:
[Level Up: 10][Elite Class Unlocked: Chrono Vicar][New Subsystems Unlocked: Financial Management, Passive Income, XP Banking]
I let out a shuddering breath. Level 10 at last. The title 'Chrono Vicar' hovers under my name in my status screen—a personalized class, courtesy of my time-bending, healer-hybrid journey. It seems the System recognized both my temporal abilities and my dedication to helping others in one fell swoop.
"Chrono Vicar..." I say the words aloud. It has a nice ring to it, if a bit grandiose. The System takes that as a cue to elaborate:
System: "Elite Class Chrono Vicar attained. As a Chrono Vicar, you specialize in temporal manipulation and restorative support. Expect improved effectiveness of time-altering skills and healing abilities, plus some unique perks you'll discover in time (pun intended)." The AI actually gives a little laugh. I can't help but grin.
I call up my full status display, eager to see the culmination of this hard-fought journey. The translucent panel materializes, and I scroll through the details:
Name: Jonah "Jet" WalkerLevel: 10Class: Elite – Chrono VicarHealth: 100% (fully restored by level-up)Stats:
Strength: 12 (above average human) Agility: 18 (remarkably high – your defining stat) Endurance: 14 (significantly improved) Intellect: 13 Perception: 15 (sharpened by Mirror Core) Empathy: 16 (augmented by altruistic deeds)Skills: Speed Boost (Active) – Temporarily double movement speed. Blink (Active) – Short-range teleport. Time Freeze (Active) – Freeze time locally for ~3 seconds. Emergency Heal (Active) – Instantly heal moderate injuries (single target). Field Medic (Passive/Adept) – Advanced first aid knowledge and efficiency. Leadership I (Passive) – Small boost to allies' morale and coordination. Mirror Core (Passive) – Illusion immunity, enhanced visual perception.Equipment: Chrono Blade (Unique Sword – time distortion on strike), Reinforced Jacket (light armor, tattered), Utility Pack (medkits, tools, loot).Credits: 850Subsystems Unlocked: Investment Portfolio (Passive Income Enabled), XP Bank (Experience Storage/Transfer Enabled)
I whistle softly at the numbers and the new lines on the display. The stat boosts from that level-up are substantial—I feel rejuvenated, my wounds knit by the level-up's restorative effect (a welcome surprise). My HP is full and even my limp is gone; the System likely spent some of that level-up energy to fix me up. My agility is especially high now, and my empathy stat (which the System always rolled its eyes at) has quietly become one of my stronger areas, no doubt from all the lives I've touched.
850 credits to my name, too. A sizable sum, inflated by quest rewards and that boss fight. The System pounces on that thought:
System: "By the way, now that Financial Management is online... I've taken the liberty of allocating 500 of those credits into a diversified index fund and a high-yield savings account. Projected passive income: a modest 5 credits per day to start, compounding over time. Not spectacular yet, but as you accrue more funds (and you will), we can seriously snowball your wealth. Finally, we can put your money to work!"
I chuckle in disbelief. The System's tone is practically giddy—profit-minded as ever. But I appreciate the sentiment behind it. 5 credits a day for doing nothing is miraculous in my world. That's food on the table, consistently, without lifting a finger.
"That's... amazing," I admit. "And XP Bank? What's that one do, exactly?"
System: "Ah, the XP Banking subsystem. In essence, now that you've hit Level 10, further XP can be saved or even shared instead of automatically applying to personal level-ups. This means you could invest experience into training others or fueling large-scale projects. For instance, if you help rebuild a community center, you could channel stored XP into accelerating that effort, or boost an ally's growth. It's about building beyond yourself— a feature for a true leader, not just a solo adventurer."
I nod slowly, absorbing that. The prospect of directly uplifting my friends' abilities or fast-tracking community improvements sets my mind alight with possibilities. "So I can help others level up... or pour experience into, say, Aurora's outreach programs?"
System: "Precisely. It's like investing XP for collective benefit. That 'Community Rebuild' subsystem we teased earlier ties into this. You've become more than just a lone streetwalker, Jet. You're a catalyst for change now." For once, the System's voice carries sincere respect without a hint of sarcasm.
I swipe the status screen away and push off the alley wall, standing on my own two feet. The aches are still there, but duller now—manageable. The sun has shifted, casting my long shadow down the alley toward the main street. Home lies just beyond, a few blocks away. I can already imagine Lexi's face, the gasp of relief and the scolding she'll give me for coming back battered. I smile at the thought.
I take a moment to pick up my makeshift crutch and adjust the Chrono Blade on my back. The city sounds beckon me onward—life continuing above ground, waiting for me to rejoin it. I've gained so much down below: strength, skills, resources... but most importantly, the knowledge that I can overcome even the darkest trials and return to the light.
"System," I say softly. "We really did it." The HUD cursor bobs in what I take as agreement. There's a warmth between us now, a far cry from the day it awakened in my head mocking me for being a 'bleeding heart.' We've both grown.
"Level 10, huh?" I muse, limping toward the alley's mouth. The bustle of Mega-City Theta's streets is just visible at the end, people going about their day unaware of the battles just fought on their behalf in the shadows. "This is just the beginning, isn't it?"
System: "The dawn of Phase 2, my dear Chrono Vicar. With great power comes great... investment opportunities." It can't resist one joke, and I snort a laugh.
"Let's focus on using this power for good first, yeah? Profits will follow." I shake my head, amused.
Step by step, I emerge from the alley into the open. Hover-cars whiz by, neon signs flicker to life as evening approaches. A few passersby give me odd looks—I'm caked in dirt and dried blood, carrying a strange sword and makeshift crutch—but I couldn't care less. I'm home.
Lexi, Aurora, Reina, Finn... I can't wait to see them, to tell them we have one less horror to worry about beneath our feet, and perhaps show them that fang as proof. And with the System's new capabilities, maybe I can finally give them the stability and hope they deserve.
The System pings, highlighting a nav route toward our apartment. I take a deep breath, savoring the smells of street food and engine coolant—scents of normalcy.
Time to leave the dungeon behind and return to the light.
I tighten my grip on the crutch, straighten as much as my aching body allows, and start walking. "Come on," I say, half to myself and half to the AI. A smile tugs at my lips as I picture Lexi's worried face transforming to joy.
"Time to go home."