CHAPTER 182: CHAPTER 182: THE GOLDEN CHAMBER

The air changed the moment the heavy steel doors sealed behind them.

The stench of blood, chemical fluid, and rotting flesh faded, replaced by something impossible: warmth. The corridor ahead glowed faintly gold, the light shimmering across the damp stone as though sunlight had been captured and pressed into the walls. For the first time since entering the underground labyrinth, Min-joon stopped shaking. His breaths, though ragged, came easier.

"It... doesn’t feel like the rest of this place," he whispered, almost afraid to break the silence.

Lin didn’t answer right away. His eyes scanned the corridor, every detail catalogued. It wasn’t like Jin to leave warmth here — comfort was a foreign concept in his world. Which meant this chamber had purpose. A dangerous one.

Keller broke the quiet with a grunt. "Either this is heaven or it’s another one of Jin’s traps dressed up in Sunday clothes."

Lin started forward, forcing them to follow. "There’s no heaven down here. Stay sharp."

The corridor wasn’t long. The golden glow grew stronger with each step until it poured over them in sheets, wrapping around their figures like a second skin. By the time they reached the end, Min-joon’s eyes were wide with awe despite his exhaustion.

The chamber itself was vast, circular like the others, but entirely unlike them in tone. Where the previous rooms had been soaked in machinery, cruelty, and experimentation, this one was almost... reverent.

The walls were carved with intricate reliefs: lines of figures kneeling, hands outstretched toward a central sun. Symbols stretched across the stone, unfamiliar yet strangely harmonious, their curves fluid instead of jagged. Golden light radiated not from lamps, but from crystalline panels embedded high in the dome, humming softly as if alive.

And at the center of the chamber stood a pedestal.

Upon it rested a single object — a cube, metallic yet radiant, its surface rippling with shifting patterns of gold and white. It looked alien and divine all at once, like it didn’t belong to this broken world.

Min-joon gasped. "What... what is that?"

Keller took a slow step closer, his instincts screaming caution. "Looks like the kind of thing cults kill people over."

Lin said nothing, but his gaze sharpened. His heartbeat quickened — not with fear, but recognition.

He had seen drawings of this cube once. Not in Jin’s notes, not in any data stolen from the labs, but somewhere deeper, buried in fragmented memories of his earliest days in the facility. He remembered Jin standing over him, whispering words Lin hadn’t understood then:

"The Core will choose. The Core never lies."

Before Lin could move closer, the chamber reacted.

The golden light shifted, coalescing above the pedestal into the shape of a man. Not flesh, not shadow, but a shimmering projection — tall, broad-shouldered, features blurred yet unmistakably human.

Min-joon stumbled backward with a cry, Keller raising his weapon instantly. "Hostile?" he barked, but his voice faltered when the figure spoke.

Its voice was calm, resonant, carrying through the chamber like a hymn.

"Designation: Lin."

Lin froze.

"Iteration 7. Status: Survived beyond protocol. Anomaly confirmed."

Keller swore under his breath. "It knows you."

Lin’s fists clenched, but his voice stayed steady. "What are you?"

The projection tilted its head slightly, as though analyzing him. "I am the Archive. Guardian of the Core. I preserve what Jin could not. I judge what Jin would not. And I remember every attempt he erased."

The cube pulsed softly, threads of golden light spilling across the floor.

Min-joon whispered, "This... this isn’t Jin’s work. It’s too different. Too—"

"Perfect," Keller muttered grimly.

Lin stepped closer, ignoring Keller’s warning hand. His eyes locked on the projection. "Why was I brought here?"

"Because you endured," the Archive replied simply. "Others failed. They broke. They were consumed. But you remained. Therefore, the Core must decide."

"Decide what?" Keller snapped.

The golden light flared. "Whether he becomes salvation... or destruction."

Min-joon shook his head violently. "No. No, we’ve had enough of this. He’s not—he’s not some... experiment anymore! He’s just Lin!"

But the Archive ignored him. Its faceless form extended a hand toward the cube. The pedestal shifted, lowering until the cube hovered at Lin’s chest height, glowing more intensely.

"Touch, and be measured."

The words echoed like a commandment.

For the first time, Lin hesitated. His mind sharpened, calculating. If this "Core" was real, if it truly held power, it could shift everything. But power always came at a price. And he had lived his entire life knowing one truth: nothing Jin left behind could be trusted.

Keller’s voice broke the tension. "Don’t do it." He moved closer, lowering his gun but keeping his tone firm. "I’ve seen this before — not this thing, but the setup. You touch it, it eats you alive or rewires your head until you’re not you anymore. That’s not salvation. That’s erasure."

Lin glanced at him, eyes cold. "And if it’s the only way forward? If Jin built this labyrinth to funnel us here, then this is the lock. The key."

Keller growled. "Or it’s the trigger."

Min-joon stepped between them suddenly, his small frame trembling but resolute. "Stop it! Please! You’re both talking like he’s not even a person. He is Lin. He’s not a lock, not a key, not an anomaly. He’s himself." Tears streaked his face. "If you touch that thing, you’ll let Jin win. He wanted to turn you into his weapon, and this—this is just the last step."

His voice cracked. "Don’t leave me alone."

The chamber fell into silence. The cube pulsed faster, as if impatient.

Lin looked at Min-joon, and for the first time his composure cracked, just slightly. The boy’s desperation, his fear, cut deeper than any of Jin’s chains. Lin had survived countless horrors, but this—this reminder that someone needed him as him—shook something he hadn’t expected.

He turned back to the cube, his reflection warped across its shifting surface.

"Salvation or destruction," he murmured. His voice was bitter. "Isn’t that always the choice?"

His hand rose.

Keller moved instantly, grabbing his arm. "Don’t."

The projection’s voice thundered. "Only he may choose. Interference will not be tolerated."

The golden light surged outward, slamming Keller back into the wall with a force that rattled the chamber. He grunted, struggling to rise, but the energy pinned him like chains.

Min-joon screamed, running toward Lin. "Please, don’t—"

But the cube pulsed again, and Min-joon froze mid-step, held in place by invisible force, his tears suspended in the golden glow.

Only Lin could move. Only Lin could choose.

His hand hovered over the cube. Every survival instinct screamed caution. Every memory of Jin whispered manipulation. Yet beneath it all, a deeper question gnawed at him: if he refused, what then? More endless corridors, more horrors, more lives lost chasing shadows?

He touched it.

The moment his fingers brushed the cube, the chamber erupted in blinding light. Golden energy surged up his arm, flooding his body, searing through every nerve. His vision fractured into shards — memories, voices, screams, laughter, blood, endless clones shattering and being remade. Jin’s voice roared in his head, but so did countless others, each one a version of himself.

Iteration 1: Failure. Iteration 2: Terminated. Iteration 3: Incomplete.

They cascaded through him like a storm, each death etched into his veins. He saw every Lin that had ever lived and died in this place, each one carrying fragments of him, each one broken before completion.

And through it all, the Archive’s voice whispered:

"Now, you are all of them."

His scream tore through the chamber.

When the light finally dimmed, Lin collapsed to his knees. His body trembled, sweat dripping down his face, but his eyes—

They glowed faintly gold.

Keller forced himself upright, fury and fear battling in his face. "Damn it, Lin... what did you do?"

Min-joon rushed forward the second he was released, grabbing Lin’s shoulders. "Are you okay? Please—say something—"

Lin lifted his head slowly. His voice was deeper, resonant, layered with echoes that weren’t his alone.

"I remember them all."

The cube dimmed, settling back onto the pedestal. The Archive’s projection began to fade, its final words chilling the air.

"Salvation or destruction. The Core has spoken. Now the world will know which."

And then the chamber went dark.