CHAPTER 51: GHOSTS IN THE MACHINE

The relative safety of the service corridor lasted for about thirty seconds.

Then the howling started.

It wasn’t the sound of an animal. It was a high-pitched, electronic shriek that seemed to echo from the metal walls themselves, a sound that grated on the teeth and made the soul itch.

"Phase Hounds," Jinx growled, her face a mask of grim familiarity. "The new models. Kael’s personal pets."

"Well, at least we know he’s a dog person," Jax quipped, his cheerfulness a little strained now. "That’s a point in his favor, right?"

"The corridor ahead splits," Chloe’s voice cut in, all business. "The patrol patterns are converging. You can’t stay together."

"Split up," she commanded. "Jinx, Jax, take the left fork. It leads to the lower-level maintenance shafts. Create a diversion. Loudly."

"Loudly is my middle name!" Jax declared, already pulling a particularly nasty-looking grenade from his belt.

"Michael," Chloe continued, her voice dropping slightly, "you take the right. It leads through the primary server room. It’s a direct path to the lower levels, but it will be a chokepoint. Be careful."

"Got it," Michael said, giving Jinx and Jax a final, grim nod. "Try not to have too much fun without me."

"No promises, Spooky!" Jax called back as he and Jinx disappeared down the left corridor.

Michael was alone.

The server room was a cathedral of cold, humming data.

Rows upon rows of sleek, black server racks stood like silent, monolithic tombstones, their blinking blue and green lights reflecting in the polished floor.

The air was frigid, recycled, and smelled of ozone and overworked electronics.

It was also completely silent.

Too silent.

His [Void Sense] was screaming.

He took a slow step into the room.

The heavy, soundproofed door hissed shut behind him.

A trap.

From the shadows between the server racks, a shape emerged.

It was bigger than the prototype they’d fought at the storage facility. Sleeker. Its cybernetics were seamlessly integrated into its pale, scarred flesh. Its movements were fluid, graceful, and utterly silent.

An alpha.

It didn’t howl. It didn’t growl.

It just watched him, its empty, eye-less sockets seeming to drink in the faint light.

"Well," Michael’s inner monologue drawled, his heart a frantic hummingbird in his chest. "Looks like the solo quest just started."

He drew his Reaper’s Fang, its black blade a sliver of pure void in the sterile, humming room.

The hound moved.

It was a blur, a glitch in reality, phase-jumping across the room in an instant.

Michael reacted on pure instinct, his [Shadow Step] a desperate, reactive teleport.

ZIP!

He reappeared behind a server rack just as the hound’s claws tore through the space where he had been.

It was smart. It wasn’t just attacking. It was herding him, cutting off his escape routes, forcing him into the center of the room.

He tried a [Void Tether], but the hound just phased through it, the black tendril of energy passing harmlessly through its shimmering form.

He was being outplayed. Outmaneuvered.

He was losing.

The whispers started.

A cold, insidious chorus in the back of his mind.

This is inefficient.

The whispers of the Cable Hound.

He is faster. Stronger.

The whispers of the Phase Hound he’d already consumed.

You need more power. You need to feed.

The guttural, hungry growl of the Ghoul Alchemist.

Just one taste. Devour him. Take his speed. Take his strength. Add it to your own. It is the only way.

The 3.0% corruption felt like a physical weight now, a cold, heavy stone in the pit of his soul.

It was so tempting.

The hound was toying with him now, its phase-jumps becoming more frequent, more erratic. It was wearing him down, draining his Void Energy with every desperate dodge.

He was about to give in. He could feel his resolve crumbling, the hunger rising.

Then, a voice cut through the whispers.

It was quiet. It was calm.

It was Chloe’s.

"You are not just the mission. Don’t forget that."

He gritted his teeth, a new, stubborn fire igniting in his chest.

No.

He was not a monster.

He was not just a weapon.

He was his mother’s son.

The hound chose that moment to strike. It phased one last time, appearing directly in front of him, its metallic jaws open for the final, killing bite.

Michael didn’t use Shadow Step.

He didn’t use Soul Devour.

He used his brain.

Instead of dodging back, he dove forward, under the hound’s lunge.

He didn’t attack the hound.

He attacked the environment.

A black whip of energy shot from his hand.

[VOID TETHER!]

It wasn’t aimed at the creature.

It was aimed at the thick, armored power cable on the floor behind it, the one feeding a whole row of servers.

He yanked.

The cable, ripped from its housing, whipped through the air like a striking snake, showering the room in a torrent of brilliant, angry sparks.

The hound, its lunge carrying it forward, landed directly on the live wire.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZAP!

A sound like a thousand hornets being electrocuted filled the room.

The Phase Hound let out a piercing, electronic shriek, its body convulsing violently.

Its advanced cybernetics, its greatest strength, had just become its greatest weakness.

Its phasing tech short-circuited with a loud, final POP.

It collapsed to the floor, a twitching, smoking heap of fried circuits and dead meat.

Michael stood over it, panting, his body screaming with exhaustion, but his mind... his mind was clear.

[MENTAL FORTITUDE CHECK: SUCCESS.]

[SOUL CORRUPTION STABILITY INCREASED.]

He had won.

On his own terms.

He had just started to catch his breath when a frantic, desperate shout echoed from his comm unit.

It was Jinx.

"Michael! We’re pinned! We’re out of tricks! We need...!"

Her voice was cut off by the sound of an explosion and the shriek of tearing metal.

He sprinted towards the door, his own victory forgotten.

His friends were in trouble.

He slid the heavy door open and peered down the long, smoke-filled corridor.

Jinx and Jax were back-to-back in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by the corpses of three hounds.

But two more were closing in.

Jinx was out of ammo for her rifle, her pistol spitting uselessly against their phasing forms.

Jax was on the ground, his leg bent at an unnatural angle, a pained grimace on his face. He was fumbling with his belt, clearly out of grenades.

They were done.

A hound, its body shimmering, lunged at Jinx, its claws extended.

This was it.

She was going to die.

Suddenly, a service door on the side of the corridor hissed open.

A man in a stained, white DGC lab coat stood there, his face pale with a terror so profound it was almost comical.

He was holding a bright red fire extinguisher like it was a holy relic.

He looked at the two cornered, heavily armed fugitives.

He looked at the lunging, cybernetic ghost-dog.

He took a deep, shaky breath.

"Need a hand?" he asked, his voice cracking with a fear that was quickly being overshadowed by a desperate, suicidal resolve.

It was Dr. Aris Thorne.