Kaivan shook his head slightly. "Nothing," he replied shortly, lowering his gaze to the cold metal floor.
Levan narrowed his eyes, his smile teasing. "You two were outside for a long time. Something happened, didn't it?" he said, lightly shaking Kaivan's shoulders.
Kaivan only murmured, "I… I'm not sure either."
Levan followed his line of sight—to Lyra, who was now walking quickly toward the main laboratory. There was something different in her steps: focused, almost fanatical. He hurried after her.
"Lyra. Wait. Come to my office first," he called out, his voice calm but firm.
Lyra did not turn around. Her voice was flat, yet it cut through the air.
"I'm sorry. My memory from the last two hours is corrupted. It seems to have been erased."
Levan froze.
Those words were more than an answer—they were an act of rebellion.
"She… refused my order?" he whispered. His body stiffened, his eyes widening. "She's no longer the AI we created."
Meanwhile, Lyra had reached the core of the laboratory—a vast space filled with cold light and machines pulsing like living organs. At its center, a boy with short black hair stared at a holographic screen, blue light reflecting sharply across his face.
Fabrizio, the wielder of the Tome of Omnicraft, lifted his head as he sensed Lyra's presence. His eyebrows rose.
"Lyra? What's going on?" he asked casually, though tension hid beneath his voice. She rarely came directly unless it was something important.
Lyra stood before his workstation, her fists clenched at her sides. Her voice was as calm as ever, yet beneath it lay something dense—determination.
"Fabrizio. I want my body to have full human functions."
Fabrizio froze. His fingers, which had been dancing in the air moments before, stopped.
"…For what purpose?" he asked slowly. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if afraid his words would make this reality more real.
Lyra looked at him with glowing green eyes—cold, yet now carrying a new pulse within.
"Because there is something I want to experience for myself," she said softly. "Not because of orders. Not because of protocols. But because I want to know… whether I can feel it like a human does."
Silence swallowed the laboratory. The hum of the reactor beneath the floor sounded distant, as if restrained by the stillness.
Fabrizio stared at Lyra for a long moment, then slowly stood up.
He understood—standing before him was no longer just an AI, but something learning how to live.
Spring did not arrive through flowers or sunlight, but through air that was slightly warmer than usual, slowly slipping into the bunker that had long been home to those who lived underground. The thick concrete resisted the seasons, yet for those inside, every degree of warmth was a sign of hope.
In the corner of a private observation room, behind the shadows of metal shelves and cables hanging from the ceiling, sat a small-built young man with bowl-cut black hair—Kaivan. His slender body rested in an old armchair, its faded fabric torn in several places. In his hands, the Tome of Omnicent emitted a golden glow that made his face look pale. His eyes were sharp yet weary. His fingers—one metal, one flesh—turned page after page, tracing lines of data: the names of those he protected, their locations, their vital status. All in silence.
Then, the voice came—not from outside, but from within his mind. Rough, heavy, and familiar.
"Kaivan, my power is running out. In less than a year, I may lose all my energy."
Kaivan closed his eyes. The book's light dimmed. His breath caught, then slowly escaped.
"You're right…" he whispered. "Maybe I should see Fabrizio. He might know a solution."
He stood up. The chair creaked softly beneath him. His steps were steady and calm; his metal right leg rang lightly each time it touched the floor. He walked out, passing through corridors lined with old control panels and slowly flickering lights—walls that had long kept their secrets.
In the main lab, he did not find Fabrizio, but Elara—a young researcher with neatly tied black hair and an oversized lab coat. She was organizing documents on a desk crowded with mechanical devices.
"Elara, where is Fabrizio?" Kaivan asked without preamble.
Elara turned, slightly surprised to see him. "He's probably on Level Eight," she answered calmly, her tone faintly colored with curiosity—Kaivan rarely looked for Fabrizio in person.
"Thank you." Kaivan turned away. The kujang chain at his waist swayed gently with his steps.
He entered the elevator. The engine hummed softly as the doors closed. The indicator descended toward Level Eight—the deepest floor, where secret projects were kept.
When the doors opened, cold air greeted him like a breath from an ice cave. The smell of metal and oil was suffocating. Dim neon lights cast a pale sheen over clean yet finely scratched steel walls. Kaivan's footsteps echoed down the corridor, two different rhythms from metal and flesh.
He kept walking, his eyes scanning every side. No one was there—only the hiss of air conditioning and the distant hum of a reactor. He entered a brighter room. Inside, a workbench was covered with diagrams, small tools, and a cup of coffee that was still warm. A chair was half pulled out, and a pen lay open, its ink not yet dry.
The air on Level Eight felt heavy, as if filled with secrets. Neon light hung like shadows of the past, illuminating drifting dust like fragments of memory. The echo of Kaivan's footsteps seemed to come from another world.
Kaivan stepped closer to the long table covered with documents and technical tools, his eyes quickly scanning the chaotic piles. Yet one file at the center seemed deliberately placed to stand out.