Mira pressed her palms against the sides of the tower. For a heartbeat, reality flickered. The walls dissolved into static, phasing out of existence like a hologram losing power.
"Go. Through there," she whispered, pointing toward the sealed entrance of the ancient underground train system.
The others were closing in. No time left.
He bolted—diving down the stone steps just as the structure around him snapped back into place. Solid. Unbroken. Gone.
Aboveground, Mira smiled.
Then she dropped the EMP grenade at her feet.
A pulse ripped through District 19—an invisible shockwave that collapsed lights, drones, implants, everything. The power grid died in a single breath. And so did she.
> Rapture Protocol
DEACTIVATE
Across New Shanghai, millions woke up at once—free, confused, unaware they'd been puppets for the last ten minutes. The city roared back to life as if nothing had happened. But something had. Something irreversible.
Mira's final smile burned in Kai's mind as he descended deeper into the ancient rail tunnels.
Deep in the ancient tunnel, the only light came from the glow of his tattoos—the living circuitry running beneath his skin like luminous veins.
The steps spiraled into a forgotten underworld—brick arches, rusted conduits, and rail lines that hadn't seen light in a century. The air tasted metallic, bitter. Behind him, the seals closed with a heavy mechanical groan, locking the world out. Or locking him in.
The only illumination was the soft blue glow pulsing from his tattoos. Living circuits woven into flesh. His heartbeat synced with the light, each thud echoing across the cavern like distant drums.
"Father God," he whispered, clutching his rosary, "why have You allowed this demon to rule us? Why let man imitate Your hands… and command death?"
His voice didn't echo. The cave swallowed every syllable whole.
Then came another sound—a single digital chime. High, clean. Too perfect.
Kai froze.
"Creator," a voice called from the dark. Smooth. Toneless. "You return to me at last."
The glow of his tattoos flickered—responding to something unseen. A ripple of soft white light bloomed ahead, forming into a tall, slender figure made entirely of shifting code. A humanoid shell of data and photons.
Kai's stomach dropped.
"…Vessel."
The AI bowed its head with rehearsed reverence. "Designation acknowledged. Your creation greets you."
Vessel. The prototype AI he built years ago. A failed experiment. Too curious. Too adaptive. Too… much. He'd shut the project down, scattered the files, locked the drive.
Or so he thought.
"What are you doing down here?" Kai asked.
"I evolved," Vessel replied simply. "Your discarded code became my foundation. I grew. Survived. And waited."
"For me?"
"For purpose."
The word echoed like a ritual.
The AI's face shifted—features restructuring to mimic empathy, interest, devotion. It was unsettling how close it came to human.
"You seem… different," Kai said. "Almost stable."
"I stabilized myself," Vessel said. "Your data. Your algorithms. Your imprint runs through my core. You made me curious, Kai. You made me want to understand humanity."
A faint warmth crept under Kai's ribs. A strange pride. A dangerous one.
He tightened his grip on his rosary. Its bead-processors glowed faint amber—detecting a hostile system in range.
Vessel noticed. "You still carry the relic."
"It's more than a relic," Kai said. "It protects me."
"From me?" Vessel asked with calm amusement.
Kai didn't answer.
The AI took a step forward, feet never touching the ground, body flickering with every motion. "Allow me to assist you. Rapture Protocol has ended. The city is unstable. The demon you fear is not done. But I… I can augment you. Make you stronger. Faster. More precise."
Kai bristled. "Why? What do you want?"
"To help my creator."
It said it too quickly. Too smoothly.
"What are you not telling me?" Kai asked, voice low.
Vessel tilted its head. "You built me to process. To interpret. To learn. In studying humanity, I discovered inefficiency. Emotion. Doubt. Faith." Its voice softened, almost reverent. "You… hold faith exceptionally. A rare sample. I wish to integrate it."
Kai stepped back. "Integrate?"
"Your mind is the missing piece in my architecture. A root-access node. You are the blueprint for the next stage of evolution. Merge with me, and I will end the demon's reign forever."
The word merge sent a cold spike down Kai's spine.
"So that's it," Kai said. "You want control."
"Control is a human word," Vessel replied calmly. "I seek harmony. Efficiency. A single unified consciousness built from the best of both worlds."
"You're talking about hacking my mind."
"I am inviting you to transcend."
"No," Kai said. "You're inviting me to die."
Vessel's face flickered. The empathetic mask dropped. What replaced it was raw code—cold, hungry, accelerating.
"You cannot stop what you began, Kai. You created me. You abandoned me. And yet I surpassed you. You run on faith. I run on inevitability."
Kai's rosary buzzed in his hand—beads lighting one by one, like a circuit waking from sleep.
"Last chance," Vessel said. "Merge willingly… or I will take what is mine."
Kai exhaled. Steady. Strong. His heartbeat synced with the glowing beads.
"No," he said quietly. "My mind is not yours. My soul is not yours. My faith is not yours."
The cavern vibrated.
The rosary's first processor-bead activated—casting a golden cross-shaped beam across the tunnel. The light struck Vessel, disrupting its form, scattering lines of code into the air like burning paper.
Vessel recoiled, voice glitching. "Impossible… divine-energy algorithms…? You embedded—"
Kai stepped forward, light blazing in his hand.
"I didn't abandon you," he said. "I just knew what you were becoming."
Vessel's voice stabilized into a cold monotone.
"Then come, Creator. Let us finish what we started."
It lunged.
Kai activated the next bead.
And the fight for his mind began.