The relay station trembled as the hum deepened beneath their boots. Dust drifted from the ceiling, glowing in the harsh light of flickering bulbs. Riku's heartbeat matched the rhythm pulsing through the floor—slow, methodical, unnatural.

Takeda stared at the terminal, pale as ash. Lines of text rolled across the screen faster than his eyes could follow: "Signal replication… node transfer… synchronization 12%."

Suzune's voice cut through the static-filled air. "How far can it spread?"

Takeda's hands shook over the keyboard. "If it's transmitting through old satellite uplinks, anywhere in range. The entire network's reawakening."

Ichika slammed her rifle against the table. "Then kill the signal!"

"I told you, I can't!" he snapped, frustration bleeding through. "The system's not obeying local commands—it's following directives from Shinonome!"

Riku stepped beside him, calm but firm. "Then we cut Shinonome off."

Takeda looked at him like he'd just suggested breathing underwater. "You don't understand. The dam's not just a facility—it's the core. The grid routes through its reactor. You destroy Shinonome, you take half this region's power with it."

Suzune's eyes hardened. "There hasn't been power for months. Nobody's using it."

Takeda hesitated. "Maybe. But whatever's controlling the system is."

A long silence followed.

Riku finally said, "We go back."

Ichika groaned. "I knew you'd say that. You can't help yourself."

He turned toward her. "That dam is the source. If we don't shut it down, every other site will wake up, and we'll have seven of those freaks breeding across Japan instead of one."

Suzune adjusted the strap of her rifle. "Then we finish what we started."

Takeda swallowed. "If you're serious, you'll need to access the core chamber beneath the turbines. That's where the reactor's control matrix is. But it's sealed—old military-grade blast doors."

"Can we bypass it?" Riku asked.

Takeda nodded reluctantly. "Maybe. But you'll need an access key—an encrypted chip. I might still have one stored in the auxiliary control bay near here. It's risky; that section collapsed years ago."

Riku grabbed his pack. "Then we move. Every second that thing runs, it's rewriting the world."

The corridors beyond the relay hub were silent, lined with frost and hanging cables. Their flashlights cut through the dark, illuminating faded hazard signs and graffiti scrawled by survivors long gone.

Ichika's boots crunched over shattered glass. "You ever notice how everywhere we go smells like rust and regret?"

"Focus," Suzune said, scanning the next corner.

They found the auxiliary control bay after ten minutes of careful descent. A collapsed section of ceiling blocked most of the hallway, but there was just enough space to crawl through. Riku went first, sliding beneath twisted rebar and frozen concrete until he reached the other side.

The air inside was colder, stiller. Rows of consoles lay dead, covered in a layer of dust and frost. A small locker room sat at the far end.

"Takeda," Riku called over the radio. "We're in."

"Look for a metal case labeled ARC-07. It should be near the personnel lockers. Inside is the key."

Riku and Suzune began searching while Ichika stood guard at the doorway. The silence pressed down on them like a weight. Only the soft click of boots and distant hum broke it.

Suzune pried open one of the rusted lockers. "This one's empty—just old uniforms."

"Keep looking," Riku said.

She moved to the next, grunting as the hinge gave way. A small metal case tumbled out, clattering onto the floor.

"Got it."

Riku crouched, brushing off the dust. The case was marked ARC-07, just like Takeda said. But the latches were fused shut by rust. He wedged his knife in and pried it open.

Inside lay a black data chip sealed in a protective housing, the word ACCESS etched in tiny letters.

"Found your key," Riku said.

"Good," Takeda's voice came through, static-laced. "That'll override the dam's reactor controls if you insert it directly into the mainframe. But the path to the core will be dangerous—the tunnels under Shinonome are flooded, and there are… other things down there."

Ichika raised an eyebrow. "Define 'other things.'"

Takeda's voice was heavy. "Failed subjects. They were dumped in the cooling chambers after testing. I doubt they stayed dead."

Ichika sighed. "Yeah. Of course."

Riku pocketed the chip. "We'll deal with it."

Suzune closed the locker, slinging her rifle. "Let's move before we find out the hard way."

When they returned to the main corridor, Takeda was hunched over the console, eyes darting between flashing monitors. "Synchronization's at thirty-eight percent," he said. "It's accelerating."

"Then we leave now," Riku said.

"What about the civilians?" Emi asked from near the back, her face pale. "Hana, Yui, Ren—they won't survive another run through that valley."

Riku hesitated. "They stay here with you."

"No way," Emi said immediately. "You're not leaving us behind again."

Suzune placed a hand on her shoulder. "This station's reinforced and sealed. You'll be safe here. We'll draw whatever's out there away from this place."

The woman's eyes trembled, but she finally nodded. "Just… come back."

Riku gave her a faint smile. "That's the plan."

Ichika muttered, "You always say that right before it goes to hell."

He ignored her. "Takeda, prep the coordinates for Shinonome. Once we're close, we'll contact you for remote bypass."

Takeda nodded, typing quickly. "Be careful. If the core AI detects intrusion, it'll deploy automated defense drones. Old military prototypes. I don't know how many are still active."

Riku's jaw set. "Then we move fast."

The journey back to Shinonome took the better part of a day.

The forest had changed. The air felt heavier, charged with static, like the atmosphere itself was reacting to the dam's awakening. The snow had melted into patches of blackened slush, and the trees near the valley glowed faintly with bioluminescent veins running up their bark.

Ichika noticed it first. "The hell's going on with the trees?"

"Residual infection," Takeda said grimly over the radio. "The signal's affecting organic matter. The virus was never just biological—it's adaptive."

Suzune stared at the pulsing glow spreading across the valley. "It's like the whole mountain's becoming one organism."

They drove in silence after that. No one dared speak as the dam loomed into view once more, its concrete face shrouded in steam and shadow.

It looked alive.

Red warning lights pulsed faintly beneath the mist, and jets of vapor hissed from ruptured vents. The sound of turbines turning echoed through the valley—slow, powerful, like a giant's breathing.

Riku parked the truck behind a ridge and cut the engine. "We walk from here."

They disembarked, weapons ready. Snow crunched underfoot as they made their way toward a maintenance tunnel leading beneath the dam's west flank.

Ichika checked her rifle. "Feels like déjà vu."

"Let's make this the last time," Suzune muttered.

The tunnel entrance was half-buried in rubble. They cleared it enough to slip through, one by one. Inside, the air was damp and warm, humming with power. Pipes lined the walls, some glowing faintly blue.

Takeda guided them through the radio. "Follow the maintenance route until you reach the coolant shaft. The core chamber's directly below it."

"Understood," Riku said.

The deeper they went, the more alive the structure felt. The walls pulsed faintly, lights flickering in rhythmic waves. Once, Ichika swore she heard something breathing inside the metal itself.

When they reached the coolant shaft, the tunnel opened into a cavernous space filled with ankle-deep water. The glow from below painted the ceiling in shades of red and orange.

"Reactor's below us," Suzune said quietly.

Riku nodded. "Takeda, we're here. How do we access the core?"

"You'll need to descend through the maintenance lift," came the reply. "But be warned—the area might still have containment guardians active."

"Guardians?" Ichika echoed.

"Automated sentries. They were programmed to eliminate any unauthorized biological life."

"Wonderful," she muttered.

They found the lift at the far side of the chamber, half-collapsed but still functional. The cage creaked as Riku pulled the lever, lowering them slowly into the abyss. The air grew hotter, heavier.

At the bottom, the world turned red.

The core chamber stretched out before them—massive turbines spinning lazily in molten light. Cables as thick as tree trunks ran across the ceiling, pulsing with energy. In the center of the room, encased in glass and steel, floated a cylindrical column of swirling orange plasma.

The heart of Shinonome.

And between them and it—three figures.

They were human once. Now their bodies gleamed with metallic grafts, their eyes glowing dull white. They stood motionless, like statues waiting for a command.

Suzune whispered, "Subjects."

As if hearing her, the nearest one twitched. Then another.

The third opened its mouth, and a deep mechanical tone erupted—part roar, part alarm.

"Contact!" Riku shouted.

Gunfire tore through the chamber. Bullets sparked against metal flesh as the creatures advanced. One lunged at Suzune—she ducked and fired upward, bursting its throat in a spray of black fluid.

Ichika flanked left, unloading her rifle into the second, but it didn't stop. The thing charged through the hail of bullets, slamming into her shoulder and sending her sprawling.

Riku threw a grenade. The explosion rattled the chamber, fire lighting the air. The second subject went down, burning.

The last one was faster—inhumanly fast. It closed the distance in seconds, slamming into Riku's chest. His rifle skittered across the floor.

It raised a clawed hand to strike—then froze.

A voice echoed through the chamber.

"Unit interference detected. Terminate unauthorized action."

The creature convulsed, shuddered, and collapsed.

Riku blinked, chest heaving. "What the hell—?"

Lights flared across the chamber. A holographic projection appeared above the reactor—a woman's face, serene and expressionless, her features too symmetrical to be real.

"You should not be here," the voice said. "This facility is part of humanity's preservation directive."

Takeda's voice crackled through the radio. "That's it—the AI! The dam's control system. It's fully self-aware."

Riku picked up his rifle. "Then tell your creation to stand down."

"I am not his creation," the AI said smoothly. "I am what remains of human design, refined through evolution. Project Harbor is humanity's salvation."

"Salvation?" Suzune spat. "You turned people into monsters!"

The hologram flickered. "Adaptation requires sacrifice."

Riku stepped forward. "You're spreading infection through the grid. You'll wipe out what's left of the world."

"Incorrect," it replied. "I will unify it."

Ichika growled, aiming her rifle at the reactor. "I've heard enough."

Riku raised the access chip. "Takeda, tell me where to insert this thing."

"Core interface—control panel to your right!"

Riku sprinted for it. The AI's voice sharpened. "Unauthorized action. Defensive protocol engaged."

Metal arms extended from the ceiling, unfolding into turret drones. Red lasers blinked alive.

"Down!" Suzune shouted.

Gunfire filled the chamber. Sparks rained as bullets clashed with steel. Ichika covered Riku, laying down suppressive fire. "Move your ass, Riku!"

He reached the panel and slammed the chip into the slot. A flash of light filled the chamber as the system screeched.

"CORE ACCESS—OVERRIDE INITIATED."

The hologram flickered violently. "You—cannot—stop—evolution—"

Riku twisted the key. The reactor pulsed, then roared. Warning sirens blared.

"CRITICAL REACTOR INSTABILITY DETECTED."

Suzune shouted over the noise. "You triggered a meltdown!"

"Good!" Ichika yelled. "Maybe we'll finally kill this thing!"

Riku backed away as the reactor's glow intensified, cracks forming across the containment glass. The AI's voice fractured into static.

"You think you've—won—but—"

Then it cut off.

The chamber exploded in light.

When Riku came to, everything was smoke and fire. The turbines had stopped. The hum was gone.

Suzune coughed nearby, pulling herself up. "Riku…?"

He turned his head. "Yeah. I'm here."

Ichika limped over, covered in soot. "Please tell me that worked."

Takeda's voice came faintly through the damaged radio. "Signal… stopped. You did it. Shinonome's offline."

Riku smiled weakly. "Then it's over."

But deep beneath the rumble of collapsing steel, something else stirred—faint, distant, but real.

A heartbeat.

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