“What else do you want to know?” Liam said miserably, shoulders slumped.
“How long is each rotation?”
“Seven days. Then seven days back in Edean, then seven days on watch again—over and over…”
“Sounds pretty easy,” Bit said.
“The outside environment isn’t… exactly friendly to humans,” Liam muttered.
“How many days until you rotate back?”
“I was supposed to leave yesterday, but the storm delayed the replacement crew.”
“So once the storm clears, you can go back?”
“Y-yes. That’s right.”
“Perfect.” Little White’s smile widened. “When you go back, I’d like you to do us a favor.”
“What?”
“Infiltrate the military intel zone on Level 502. Find anything related to Azure Thunder—and Ogen’s troop deployments.”
“No—please—have mercy…” Liam’s face twisted in despair.
“Hold out your finger,” Bit barked.
“Please,” Liam begged, curling in on himself. “If I get caught, I’m done—and she’ll be implicated too…”
Little White shoved Bit aside. She’d already noticed the beautifully wrapped gift box on the table. Now her expression shifted into sudden understanding. “Ahh. I get it—you’ve got someone you love?”
Liam nodded.
“Then you should help us even more,” Little White said lightly. “Helping us is helping you and her. Otherwise, you’ve both got about two months left.”
“Why?”
“You’ve heard the rumors.”
“Miller? The Doomsday?”
“Yes.”
“It’s… true?”
“Of course. Believe it or not, we’re here to save you.”
“But…” Liam stammered, “I’m just a regular soldier. I can’t even get into Level 502.”
“Relax. We’ve prepared everything for you.” Little White pulled out several items and lined them up on the table.
First was a soft, flesh-colored face mask. When Liam recognized it, he almost jumped out of his chair—an ultra-realistic skin mask of General Graham, every wrinkle and pore replicated. Beside it sat a small box containing matching irises.
Second was a set of officer’s dress uniform.
Third was a magnetic access card.
Fourth was a palm-sized device with multiple ports.
Little White spoke like she was introducing party favors. “The mask is a life-cast of Graham. The eyes match. The card is cloned from his. Put those on, wear the uniform, and you can move through every level of Edean Tower without being stopped. That little gadget is a nano decryptor—give it a few seconds and it can crack the password on any machine in Edean. Well-prepared, right?”
“You want me to impersonate General Graham?” Liam’s soul nearly left his body.
“That’s right. And you may not know this—Graham is still unconscious. Edean won’t release the exact status because they need to keep morale stable. So even if someone bumps into you, as long as it’s not Soren, Ogen, Tyler Lynn, or another top-tier figure, you don’t need to panic.”
“But if someone checks the logs, they’ll catch it.”
“So what?” Little White said. “If you’re not caught in the moment, who’s going to suspect a nobody like you? Once we’ve the intel, Soren’s good days are over. You’ll be a hero. Your girl will love you for it. Just move fast—if Graham wakes up, then you’ll be in trouble.”
“Really…? Uh—what’s that?” Liam pointed at the last item: an open metal ring, slightly larger than a neck and slightly thinner than a pinky finger.
“This is a ‘Friendship’ collar.” Little White lifted it and casually snapped it around Liam’s neck. Once fastened, it shrank to fit—tight enough to stay, loose enough to breathe.
“What does it do?”
Little White’s smile was sweet. “It makes sure our friendship can’t be broken. If you slip up during the mission—say something you shouldn’t—the collar will explode. The blast isn’t huge, but it’s more than enough to break your neck.”
“Ah—!”
“Don’t try to take it off.” Little White’s voice remained calm. “Other than me, any person, any method—touch it wrong and it detonates. Next time we meet, I’ll remove it. But if you don’t show up…”
“Boom,” Bit said helpfully.
“Th-that’s…” Liam’s face collapsed. Tears and snot ran together. “How… how do I find you?”
“You don’t,” Little White said. “We’ll find you. Any other questions?”
“N-no.”
“Then… cooperation confirmed?” Little White held out her hand with a bright grin.
“O-okay…” Liam shook it gingerly, as if her hand were a hot iron.
“Happy to… be of service.”
…
***
Three days later, in Edean.
Tyler Lynn stood in his private lab, staring at a gear-studded cylinder almost twice his height. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Pinpricks of light flickered across its surface. It was a 1:100 scale model of Phantom Forge’s core mainframe—built years ago, with program parameters copied as closely as possible. Tyler Lynn had named it Huanmie. He used to run simulations on it to predict Phantom Forge’s behavior, but after Phantom Forge’s collapse, he hadn’t touched it.
His comm terminal chimed. When he checked it, Soren was requesting an urgent meeting—down in the Basement Level 2 bio lab.
Barnett’s territory.
Tyler Lynn rode the elevator down to Basement Level 1. Basement Level 2 was a restricted zone; the elevator couldn’t reach it directly. The basement levels weren’t many, but each one sprawled like a small city. Getting there meant a long, winding walk.
When he finally reached the entrance to Basement Level 2, a pair of machine guards recognized him and opened the heavy door.
The area was divided into multiple halls. Tyler Lynn saw dozens of humans half-reclined in pod-like chambers—soldiers undergoing enhancement.
They would be injected with an enhancement serum called SAL-404, then fitted with heavy metal headgear and left to sleep under observation for forty-eight hours.
SAL-404 was described as the final product of the Palette Box Program: the result of generations of researchers and countless experiments, marketed as perfection.
The young men who woke up afterward would discover their bodies had been remade: strength, reflexes, and perception far beyond ordinary humans. Common human illnesses would no longer apply. The pamphlets promised a list of superpower-like benefits—rapid healing, drastically reduced pain response, resilience to low oxygen, heat, and extreme cold, and more—”with no side effects.” At least, that’s what the marketing claimed.
Two weeks ago, the first batch of enhanced soldiers had already begun to show results. Testing confirmed that, on paper at least, the promises held. Most people were eager to undergo the procedure. In a world like this, who wouldn’t want a better chance to survive?
When Tyler Lynn passed a squad waiting for their injections, every soldier snapped to attention and saluted. Tyler Lynn smiled and returned it, watching their wide-eyed excitement with an almost fond amusement.
But Tyler Lynn knew there were two details Barnett never mentioned.
First: enhanced soldiers received an ideological imprint. Over time, they would lose what mattered most—their humanity. They would become loyal to Plando’s rulers the way a machine obeys its master. The leadership would be treated as gods. Everything else would become irrelevant: their own lives, their loved ones, even their children. If commanded to kill themselves—or their own blood relatives—they would pull the trigger without the smallest hesitation.
Second: Barnett planned to select the best of these enhanced soldiers for injection with the ultimate biochem agent HH-137, attempting to replicate the strongest demon god from before the apocalypse—Mordia—as quickly as possible, to fulfill Soren’s orders.
Soren had seen what Mordia could do. He was convinced that another monster like it would crush Wyatt and Little White with ease. Under Soren’s relentless pressure, this was the only method Barnett had been able to propose.
Outside the inner door, several robot sentries stood guard. When they saw Tyler Lynn, they rushed to pull the door open.
Inside, Tyler Lynn immediately spotted Soren slumped in an electric wheelchair, his face pinched with worry. Beside him stood his glamorous assistant, Solina. The moment Soren saw Tyler Lynn, he looked like a drowning man spotting a rope.
“Ah—Tyler Lynn. You’re finally here.”
“What happened?”
Soren’s face crumpled. “Barnett is missing.”