The shelter groaned under the weight of the assault.Steel bulkheads trembled as the world outside screamed. Every impact against the barricades echoed down the empty corridors, a low, rhythmic thunder that made the fluorescent lights flicker and hum.
Zarc's breath came in short bursts as he moved through the command room. Dust drifted through the air, glittering in the dim blue glow of the Cube embedded in his arm. The pulse from it had grown weaker, stuttering every few seconds like a dying heartbeat.
He muttered to himself, "Come on… hold together."
The console in front of him flickered — distorted camera feeds, bursts of static, flashes of movement in the lower corridors. Figures pressed against the glass of security doors, slamming, scratching. The reinforced shutters bowed inward.
[Warning. Perimeter integrity compromised. Structural failure imminent.]
The Cube's voice was calm, mechanical, almost detached.
Zarc wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove. "No kidding."
He checked his sidearm — last magazine. M4 rifle slung across his back, half a mag left. A dull ache settled in his chest. He'd fought off too many waves already. The turrets were down, the drones silent. The ammunition counters were flashing zeroes across every display.
He had done everything right.And it still wasn't enough.
Another tremor rippled through the floor. Dust rained from the ceiling. Somewhere deeper in the facility, something heavy collapsed — the echo was deep and final.
The Cube pulsed again, flickering across the cracks in his skin.
[Host vitals unstable. Recommend retreat.]
"Retreat where?" he whispered. "Everything's gone."
He reached for his flashlight, sweeping it across the room. The steel walls bore deep dents and scratches. A long smear of dried red ran down the far bulkhead where the last defense team had made their stand weeks ago. The smell of rust and oil clung to everything.
The lights dimmed. A distant metallic crash echoed up from the sublevels. Then, silence.
Zarc turned toward the door, listening. His pulse thudded in his ears.
Then, a sound — faint, rhythmic. Metal boots? No. Too erratic. Too heavy.
He froze.Something was moving down the hall.
A shadow passed by the doorway — slow, unsteady, almost human. Then another. The soft drag of feet. The wet scrape of palms along the wall.
Zarc's throat tightened. He raised his rifle. The Cube dimmed again.
[Warning. Energy reserves… critical.]
"Not now," he hissed.
He backed toward the generator room. Every step echoed like thunder. When he reached the massive reinforced doors, he pressed his hand to the access panel. Nothing. Dead. The power was gone.
The Cube pulsed faintly, syncing with his heartbeat.
Zarc glanced down at it — the once-luminous metal now dull, edges cracked like old glass. "You're dying too, huh?"
He exhaled sharply, then laughed — a short, empty sound. "Guess we both are."
Then came the noise.The sound of metal tearing.
He turned — the corridor door behind him buckled inward. Hands punched through gaps in the frame. The screech of tearing steel filled the room, followed by the first glimpse of something pressing through — gray skin, pale eyes reflecting his flashlight beam.
He fired. The rifle kicked against his shoulder, muzzle flash lighting the dark in harsh bursts. The figures stumbled, fell, but more pressed forward, unrelenting.
[Ammunition level: 5%]
"Don't tell me that!"
He dropped the rifle and drew his sidearm, firing until the slide locked back. The echoes were deafening in the confined space.
Then — a lull. The world held its breath.
Zarc lowered his weapon. Smoke hung in the air. The Cube flickered once, faint blue shimmer across the walls.
He took a step forward — then the ceiling cracked open above him. A cascade of debris crashed down, filling the corridor with dust and shadow.
He stumbled back, coughing, and looked up just in time to see the blast doors warp under immense pressure.
[Critical breach detected.]
Zarc swallowed hard. "You think?"
[Host survival probability: 2%]
He laughed again, voice hoarse. "Better odds than usual."
The final impact came like a thunderclap. The walls split. Light and dust filled the air. The ground buckled beneath his feet.
The Cube's voice changed — distortion, static, fragments of words overlapping.
[Failsafe… sequence… initializing…][Temporal anchor… coordinates: March 3, 2025…][Host data backup — confirmed.]
"What— what are you doing?"
He reached for his arm, but the light surged, bright and cold. The Cube burned like a star, threads of blue energy crawling up his veins, across his chest, into his eyes. The room folded around him, walls twisting in impossible angles.
The air turned liquid.Sound bent.
He felt his heartbeat slow — once, twice — then stop.
The last thing he saw before everything inverted was his own reflection in a shattered panel of glass — his eyes glowing faint blue, like the Cube itself.
Then the world unraveled.
White.
Endless, weightless white.
Zarc drifted in it — no sound, no gravity, just a sensation of falling upward through light. Around him, flashes burst like shards of memory.
He saw the shelter intact. Then destroyed. Then rebuilding itself in reverse. Bullets flying backward into magazines. Flames freezing into air. Blood retracting into wounds that never happened.
Voices murmured, layered and distant.
[Reconstruction in progress…][Memory integrity: 94%.][Temporal stability uncertain.]
He reached out, but his hand passed through the light. "Where am I?"
No answer.
[Host vitals restoring.][Body synchronization: 83%.]
Pain came next — sharp, clean, then gone. His heartbeat returned. He felt air fill his lungs again.
Then darkness.And silence.
Sunlight.
It hit his face like a slap.
Zarc gasped, sitting upright. His hand shot instinctively toward his rifle — but there was none. His eyes darted around.
A small apartment.White walls. Wooden floor. Morning light filtering through curtains.
His chest heaved. He pressed his palm to his heart — it was beating fast, real. The Cube on his arm felt cool, lifeless.
He turned his wrist over. The metal surface was dull gray, no light, no hum.
"Dormant…" he whispered.
He stumbled to his feet, unsteady. His boots sank slightly into soft carpet — carpet. He hadn't felt that in years.
The sound of a city filtered through the window — cars, voices, laughter.
He walked to it, hand trembling, and pulled back the curtain.
The skyline stretched out before him — tall buildings gleaming in sunlight, streets full of life. No smoke. No rot.
He blinked hard. "No way…"
He looked for anything — any sign of ruin. But everything was alive. Clean.
He turned toward the wall calendar. The date read March 3, 2025.
His stomach dropped. Six months before Haven Biotech's collapse.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand. He picked it up. The screen lit, fully charged. Notifications blinked. News updates. Weather alerts.
Then one headline froze him in place:
HAVEN BIOTECH ANNOUNCES PROJECT ORIGIN COMPLETION. PRESS CONFERENCE SET FOR MARCH 19.
Zarc's grip tightened. His pulse thundered in his ears.
Project Origin.The same name etched into every ruined file he had found in the shelter.
He looked down at the Cube. It remained dark — no light, no pulse. But when he said the words aloud, Project Origin, it gave the faintest vibration — like a sleeping heartbeat.
His reflection in the window looked older, scarred. He hadn't aged backward. He was the same man who'd died — carrying the memories of the end.
He laughed quietly — the sound cracked halfway through. "You really did it… You sent me back."
The Cube stayed silent.
He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, staring out the window as the city hummed below.
If this was real — if this wasn't a dream — then he had six months.
Six months before the dead walked again.Six months to stop Project Origin.
He clenched his fist. "I won't waste it."
For a moment, a faint blue shimmer rippled across the Cube's surface. Not light, but movement — like it was listening.
Then it went still again.
Zarc stood and faced the window fully. The morning sun poured over him, warm and clean. He felt the weight of two worlds pressing against him — the one he'd lost, and the one he'd been given again.
He whispered, "Let's see what we can change."
The Cube, though dormant, pulsed once. Just once.
And the day moved on — as if nothing had ever gone wrong.