Location: Hidden Corridor – Beneath the Tavoran Mountain Range
The tunnel ahead was narrower, the air dense and ancient, laced with a strange metallic scent. Damien moved first, his boots silent against the cold stone floor. The deeper they went, the more the walls pulsed with embedded lines of light—like veins in a living organism.
"This tech..." Nora whispered. "It's not just pre-Tavaran. It's hybrid. Organic and synthetic."
Damien nodded, brushing his fingers along the wall. "And whoever built this wanted it protected. The Architect didn't just find this place—he inherited it."
A low hum rose ahead of them. They emerged into another chamber, this one circular and far smaller than the last. In the center stood a pillar of light, flickering with holographic data, interspersed with images—Damien's face, the Blackwood family crest, news clippings, military files, even footage of Damien in combat zones across the globe.
Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "Someone's been watching you for a long time."
Damien stepped closer to the pillar. The data shifted, reacting to his presence. Then a voice echoed through the chamber—not the Architect's this time, but something more neutral, more... artificial.
"Echo Protocol: Initiated."
Suddenly, holographic figures formed around them—life-sized projections of past moments. Damien saw himself as a boy, training with his grandfather. Another image flickered: his mother, lying sick in their small apartment. And then one more: his last words to Nora five years ago, just before he disappeared.
Nora's breath caught. "This... this isn't surveillance. It's a memory archive."
"Not just memories," Damien muttered. "It's manipulation. They're using this to understand me. Predict me."
The AI voice continued:
"Subject: Damien Alexander Blackwood. Genetic code registered. Lineage confirmed. Tactical aptitude: Optimal. Emotional stability: Variable. Loyalty index: Undetermined."
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "You've got a file like a damn national weapon."
Just then, the pillar pulsed again. A new file opened: a layout of the capital city of Tavara, with key structures highlighted in red.
Damien's jaw tightened. "He's planning something. An operation."
"Or a war," Nora said quietly.
The pillar spoke one last time.
"Final phase unlocked. Trial engagement commencing."
The chamber trembled. Metal doors slammed shut behind them, sealing them in. And then from the shadows emerged three humanoid figures—sleek, armored, and eerily silent. Their faces were blank masks of polished steel.
Damien drew his weapon. "Trial engagement," he said darkly. "Let's give them a response."
Cyrus cracked his knuckles. "Now this is my kind of welcome."
Nora activated her EMP blade. "Let's finish this fast."
As the lights dimmed and the first attack was launched, Damien knew one thing for sure: this wasn't just a test of skill. It was a test of identity. And failure wasn't an option.