The alarms went silent.

  The Access Hall breathed—heavy, steady—as if something behind the walls was waiting for a single heartbeat to rise again.

  In the dark, John led the way, the glow from his cybernetic eyes faintly illuminating the damp corridor.

  Z-69 followed, his footsteps leaving watery marks across the floor.

  Lumina lay curled on his shoulder, ears drooping, the blue light on her forehead flickering like a small flame guiding them.

  The deeper they went, the more the walls changed color—from gray steel to dark brown, then to a wet crimson like raw flesh.

  With every step, the floor gave slightly underfoot, soft as thin ice over a pond of blood.

  “Where are we going?” Z-69 asked, his voice low.

  John’s rasp echoed in the confined space:

  “If my memory’s right, this passage leads to the ceremonial hall—the place of prayer and major rituals.”

  He hesitated a moment, then added, as if confessing a sin:

  “…And also where I tested the faith-based energy absorption system.”

  Z-69 shot him a flat look. “Generating energy from faith? You can’t be serious.”

  “In theory, yes,” John muttered, taking a phantom drag from an unlit cigarette. “Intense faith emits an empathic energy field. And any form of energy… can be harvested.”

  Z-69 was silent for a few seconds before replying, voice edged with steel:

  “Did it ever occur to you that all these twisted creatures—and everything wrong with the Access Hall—might have come from that system of yours?”

  John frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Z-69’s words cut through the air thick with the stench of blood:

  “Thousands of people were infected by whatever it was you created. Even as they turned into monsters, they still believed you’d come back to save them. Then they did become monsters. But their faith stayed. It became obsession—a prayer without end.”

  His green eyes trembled like reflections of fire.

  “That faith feeds itself, producing energy that never runs out. The creatures absorb that energy—and the cycle repeats. A perpetual loop.”

  “The people here live forever—as monsters that can never die.”

  Z-69 let out a dry, hollow laugh.

  “A purgatory built on earth… crafted by your own hands.”

  John didn’t answer.

  He just stood there—eyes dry as ash, cigarette trembling between his lips, the falling ash vanishing into the pulsing floor as if swallowed whole.

  In that moment, the corridor around them contracted slightly.

  The cathedral began to breathe.

  The ceiling rose high above, lights hanging like dried cocoons.

  The walls were coated with stretched flesh, black veins pulsing slowly beneath.

  At the center stood pillars made of human bodies—hundreds of them fused together, eyes open wide, hands clasped in prayer.

  Their mouths murmured in unison:

  “Save us. Save us. Save us…”

  Lumina’s blue glow brushed across their faces, like candlelight flickering through a chapel.

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  Z-69 froze. “They’re… still alive.”

  John stood motionless, lips trembling.

  “Impossible. The system… actually worked?”

  He gave a strained laugh, muttering like a drunk:

  “This project… I only created it to justify funding Chamber Z for you. How could it possibly work—”

  Z-69 reached out and touched one of the flesh pillars.

  It was warm. Beating.

  Lumina closed her eyes, her soft voice echoing in Z-69’s mind:

  “This place is overflowing with despair.”

  Then a faint sound arose—a twisted, rhythmic chorus.

  “Welcome… back…”

  Z-69 looked up.

  Dozens of faces on the wall turned toward John in unison.

  “Administrator John R.,” they breathed together.

  “We prayed for you. We kept the light.”

  John stumbled backward, lips quivering.

  “I… never ordered you to do that.”

  One face peeled off the wall, grinning from ear to ear.

  “You did. And then you left.”

  The layered voices spread through the chamber.

  The wall at the far end of the chapel cracked open.

  Red light spilled out.

  Something massive stirred within the altar.

  The sound of tearing metal.

  A gigantic mass of flesh rose, dragging dozens of fused bodies with it.

  The Guardian Beta stood in the center of the hall, nearly four meters tall, its body a mountain of merged corpses.

  Each face on its form opened its mouth, speaking different words:

  “Welcome back.”

  “We prayed.”

  “You locked us in.”

  Beta leaned forward, hundreds of mouths curling into grotesque smiles:

  “Administrator John R… You left us halfway through salvation.”

  John stepped back, voice shaking as he lit another cigarette. “I only wanted to keep the virus from spreading! I had no choice!”

  Beta tilted its head, grin widening to its ears—mockery and despair fused together.

  It lunged.

  BOOM!

  The impact shattered the floor.

  Z-69 blocked the blow, flung into a cracked concrete wall.

  John activated his auto-targeting system, firing plasma bolts wildly while cursing:

  “Damn it! Is there anything down here that doesn’t hate me?!”

  Z-69 crawled from the rubble, pausing for just a heartbeat to observe.

  He saw it—each time Beta roared, the red light in its chest pulsed in rhythm.

  “Lumina—now!”

  The little fox leapt from his shoulder, crystal blazing—illusions unfurled.

  In Beta’s eyes, dozens of Z-69s appeared, sprinting in every direction, throwing it into confusion.

  Z-69 seized the moment, launching forward.

  His muscles tightened—his fist drove straight through Beta’s chest.

  Flesh burst, black fluid spraying, hot and foul.

  But from the wound, three new arms grew out, grabbing him and slamming him to the ground.

  Beta’s mouth opened wider than any human’s, laughing manically:

  “Administrator, pray with US! Pray HARDER!”

  John hurled two plasma grenades onto its back.

  Blinding white light exploded, the stench of scorched flesh filled the air.

  “Pray with that, you bastard!” he yelled.

  Beta screamed, then tore open its own chest, pulling out a glossy black mass.

  It crushed it—black gas sprayed out, thick and acrid like acid.

  The toxic smoke rolled toward Lumina.

  Z-69 dashed forward, throwing himself between her and the gas.

  It ate through his flesh instantly, revealing pale bone beneath.

  The crystal on his chest blazed, energy surging to halt the decay.

  His skin regenerated almost as fast as it was destroyed—

  but with each cycle, his hunger deepened.

  The faster he healed, the hungrier he became.

  Veins bulged, claws sharpened, his pupils bled violet with madness.

  “GRAHHHHH!” he roared, voice thunderous.

  In an instant, primal hunger drowned his reason.

  Like a beast driven only by instinct, Z-69 crouched, then leapt—closing the distance in a blink.

  Ignoring the burning gas, his claws ripped into one of the faces on Beta’s body, tearing it off along with a chunk of flesh.

  Black blood sprayed like oil rain.

  Beta staggered, screaming.

  Z-69 shoved the flesh into his mouth, devouring greedily.

  “More,” his instincts howled.

  He attacked again—clawing, punching, rending.

  Chunks of flesh flew. Faces shattered.

  Every tear sounded like a prayer being ripped apart.

  Beta reeled, roaring in despair.

  Z-69 sank deeper into the frenzy, consumed by hunger.

  John, unfazed, activated another hidden mechanism—his right arm opened, revealing an injector filled with inhibitor serum.

  He hesitated.

  “Damn it… do I really have to sacrifice my right arm this time to bait Z-69? I already lose the left one If I lose both now, I’ll be useless…”

  John muttered, weighing his options.

  Before he decided, a faint blue shimmer drifted through the chaos.

  Lumina.

  The little fox stepped softly over the floor slick with black blood.

  No sound—only the pulse of her glowing forehead, steady like a heartbeat.

  Each step erased the toxic haze, soothing the burning stench.

  Z-69’s snarls began to fade, replaced by Lumina’s calm breathing—a lullaby in the ruin.

  He hissed, stepping back half a pace.

  His body trembled, torn between fear and hunger.

  But Lumina kept walking—head bowed, breathing slow, her light enveloping him.

  He raised a hand, instincts screaming to crush the tiny creature.

  But before his fingers could close, something flickered in his mind—

  a woman’s blurred face, smiling softly as she embraced him.

  Lumina leapt gently into his arms.

  Her blue eyes met his—unflinching, fearless, filled only with understanding.

  She pressed her forehead against his chest.

  Two crystals—blue and violet—touched.

  A faint chime rang out.

  Light spread—soft as breath—throughout the cathedral.

  Beta retreated into the red walls, slipping away like an insect returning to its nest.

  Silence.

  No screams, no blood scent—only warmth, gentle as dawn, surrounding them.

  Z-69 came to his senses, confusion clouding his face.

  He looked down—

  the little fox lay curled in his arms, fast asleep, her tail draped across his neck like a silk ribbon.