Three days had passed since Scarlett and Shūmei's awakening, and Vault Terminus had settled into a new rhythm. The morning found Jin in the Command Wing's common area, watching his expanded team navigate their first real breakfast together as a complete group. The space felt crowded now—six people around a table designed for four—but there was something comforting about the quiet conversations and shared meals.

Scarlett sat with perfect posture, methodically eating while simultaneously reviewing tactical data on her tablet. Her ginger hair caught the artificial lighting as she gestured toward a holographic display of the vault's defensive capabilities.

"The outer perimeter sensors show increased Crawler activity," she reported, her emerald eyes scanning the readouts. "Seventeen distinct pack signatures within two kilometers. They're testing our boundaries."

Sera leaned forward, her amber eyes sharp with interest. "Coordinated?"

"Hard to say. Could be natural scavenging behavior, but the timing suggests possible Alpha influence." Scarlett's fingers danced across the display, highlighting movement patterns. "We should consider expanding our patrol routes."

Shūmei moved quietly around the table, refilling water cups and ensuring everyone had what they needed. Her crimson eyes occasionally flicked to Jin with worshipful attention, but she otherwise seemed content to serve in the background. The contrast with Scarlett's confident presence was striking—two completely different approaches to finding their place in the group.

*"I'm detecting new neural pathways and enhanced bio-electrical activity. Though there are some... anomalous readings I'm still analyzing."*

"What does that mean? Anomalous?" Jin thought back, his brow furrowed in confusion.

*"Minor fluctuations in your brain chemistry. Probably just adaptation to your recent resurrection. Nothing concerning."*

Rosa stretched dramatically, her purple hair catching the light. "When's the last time any of us had a real meal without someone trying to eat us?"

"Hmmp.. Relaxation is something we can't really indulge in," Sera said reflexively, then paused. "But... you make a good point. We've been operating on sheer adrenaline for weeks now.

Jin looked at the faces of his companions gathered around the table, and a comforting warmth surged through him. They were all safe and together. For the first time since he had awakened in this cold, metal confinement, he could see a future that was more than just survival.

But the peaceful moment was abruptly interrupted when Clara's tablet emitted a loud beep, signaling an urgent notification.

"Oh," Clara said, her face going pale as she read the display. "Oh no. This is... this is really bad."

Everyone tensed immediately, hands moving toward weapons that weren't there. Breakfast was forgotten as Sera's voice cut through the rising tension.

"Report."

Clara's fingers trembled slightly as she pulled up a holographic display showing the vault's resource management systems. "I-I've..been running inventory calculations for our expanded group. The food supplies..."

She gestured, and detailed nutritional charts appeared in the air above the table. Numbers flowed across the display—caloric requirements, consumption rates, projected depletion dates.

"With six people, we had approximately three months of supplies. But with eight people..." The numbers turned from green to yellow to red. "Five and half weeks. Maybe six if we implement strict rationing."

The silence that followed was heavy with implications. Rosa's usual grin faded completely. Scarlett's tactical assessment shifted from external threats to internal sustainability. Even Shūmei paused in her quiet service, red eyes wide with concern.

"There are still eight cryo-pods," Sera said carefully. "Eight more people who need to be awakened."

"Under normal protocols, we could awaken two people every two weeks," Clara continued, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "But that would take a month, and we'd run out of food long before then. Even if we only woke two more people, we'd be looking at critical starvation within a month."

Jin felt something shift inside him—not panic, but a cold certainty that they would find a way. They always found a way. "Can't we grow food here? Like in a garden?"

"The hydroponic bays are functional," Clara said, "but even with optimal conditions, it takes weeks for crops to mature. We'd need agricultural specialists to maximize efficiency, and..." She gestured helplessly at the pods. "They're probably in those pods."

"So we're trapped," Rosa said flatly. "We can't wake them because we don't have food, but we can't get food without waking them."

"There must be another way" Jin said, standing abruptly. "The Phoenix thing inside me has been getting stronger, right? Maybe it can help us find a way"

Jin headed toward the door. "Clara, show me the vault's central computer core. If there's a solution, it'll be in the systems."

---

The central computer core was a cathedral of technology, with towering server banks reaching toward a vaulted ceiling lined with cooling systems and quantum processing arrays. Soft blue light pulsed through fiber optic networks, creating an almost organic rhythm that reminded Jin of a massive heartbeat.

Clara led the way, her engineering glasses lighting up with data streams as they interfaced with the surrounding technology. "The core manages everything—life support, cryo-systems, manufacturing, defensive networks. It's the brain of the entire facility."

Jin approached the central terminal, a sleek pedestal surrounded by holographic displays and neural interface ports. As he drew closer, he felt that strange resonance growing stronger, like a tuning fork vibrating in his chest.

"The normal revival protocols are built around gradual system integration," Clara explained, calling up technical schematics. "Each cryo-pod requires a week of pre-revival preparation—neural pathway re-mapping, cellular restoration, psychological adjustment. Rushing the process risks brain damage or complete system failure."

Sera crossed her arms, studying the displays with a tactical eye. "What about emergency protocols? Military systems usually have rapid deployment options."

"There are emergency revival sequences," Clara admitted, "but they have a sixty percent failure rate. We can't risk losing people."

Jin placed his hand on the central terminal, and immediately felt a jolt of connection. The Phoenix Core in his neural matrix seemed to recognize something in the vault's quantum processes, like two pieces of ancient technology finally finding each other.

*"Jin, your neural activity just spiked to dangerous levels. I recommend stepping away from the terminal."*

But instead of stepping away, Jin leaned closer. The holographic displays around him began shifting, showing deeper system architectures that Clara's clearance couldn't access. Technical specifications flowed past his vision—not just data, but understanding. He could feel the vault's needs, its capabilities, its limitations.

"What about this?" Jin said, pointing to a section of code that seemed to pulse with possibilities. "Life integration? Maybe we don't just wake them up, but help them wake up?"

Clara's eyes widened behind her glasses as she followed his gesture. "Those are theoretical frameworks. They've never been tested on human subjects."

"The Phoenix thing inside me can share life, right?" Jin said, the knowledge coming to him from somewhere deep in his enhanced consciousness. "If I connect to those pods, maybe I can help them wake up safely. Share my healing with them."

Scarlett stepped forward, her tactical mind immediately grasping the implications. "That's incredibly dangerous. You're talking about linking your life force to eight people simultaneously."

"We have to try!" Jin said simply, his voice filled with determination. "We can't leave them sleeping forever, and we need their help to survive.".

"Asha, can you check if this would work?" Jin interrupted. "Like, test if using the Phoenix thing to help wake them up is safe?"

There was a pause as the AI processed countless variables. When she spoke again, her voice carried a note of surprised optimism.

*"Simulation complete. With Phoenix Protocol enhancement, emergency revival success rate increases to eighty-seven percent. But Jin... there's something else. I'm detecting an unknown energy signature during the simulation. Something that shouldn't be there."*

Jin barely heard her warning. His hand was already moving toward the neural interface port, driven by a certainty that felt as natural as breathing. This was what the Phoenix Protocol was designed for—not just personal resurrection, but bringing life to others when hope seemed lost.

"Jin, wait," Sera said, her voice sharp with concern. "If something goes wrong—"

"It'll be okay. I promise," Jin said, and for a moment his voice carried an odd harmonic quality that made everyone in the room take notice. "Trust me."

He pressed his palm to the neural interface, and the world exploded into sensation.

---

The connection was immediate and overwhelming. Jin's consciousness expanded beyond his physical body, flowing through fiber optic networks and quantum processing cores. He could feel every system in the vault—the thrumming of the fusion reactors, the whisper of air through ventilation networks, the slow dreams of the people sleeping in cryo-pods.

But there was something else. A presence that had been waiting, patient as stone, for exactly this moment. It didn't feel malevolent—more like an old friend extending a helping hand. A voice that whispered with ancient wisdom.

*Power shared is power multiplied. Let me help you save them.*

Jin's rational mind might have questioned the voice, but in the flood of system integration