The pain was not merely physical.
It was systemic — as if someone were burning away the very foundation of her existence, tearing out the threads that bound a human to the System itself. The plasma blast struck her chest, hurling Astra backward like a ragdoll. Her body crashed through the brittle brickwork of an old elevator shaft, ripping apart rusted rebar and a cloud of dust.
The fall felt endless.
Seconds stretched into eternity as she tumbled through darkness, slamming against protrusions, pipes, and debris.
Then—impact.
Her body hit a pile of corroded metal, medical waste, and human remains at the very bottom of the "morgue basements" — a place where the System dumped those whose bodies were too damaged even for recycling. The air reeked of decay, ozone, and old blood. It was thick, damp… almost liquid.
Astra lay motionless.
Her left eye was flooded with thick, unnaturally dark blood — almost black. Her vision doubled. In her right eye, a red interface message flickered:
CRITICAL DAMAGE
VITAL SIGNS: 12%
RECOMMENDATION: IMMEDIATE DISPOSAL
"Kai…" she tried to call, but only a wet rasp escaped her throat. Blood filled her mouth — salty, metallic.
Silence.
It was absolute. Sacred, almost. Broken only by the slow, rhythmic dripping of chemicals from ruptured pipes somewhere above:
drip… drip… drip…
Each sound echoed in her skull like a metronome of death.
These were the true basements.
Not the technical levels where the "unfit" still clung to life, but the deep layers — where even Enforcers descended reluctantly. Bones lay scattered among torn cables, shattered implants, and dried remains of those the System had long erased. Among the debris, old neurochips glimmered faintly, still holding the last ghost of charge.
Astra tried to move.
Her ribs answered with a sharp burst of pain. Her left arm refused to obey.
She turned her head slightly and saw, far above, at the top of the shaft, a rectangle of dim light — suddenly swallowed by a massive shadow.
An Enforcer dropped down.
Its heavy landing sent vibrations through the entire floor. Metal fragments and bones cracked beneath its weight. It rose to its full height — nearly two and a half meters of black armor, cold blue visor light, and integrated weaponry.
Each step of its heavy boots came with a grinding crunch as it methodically crushed dry bones and skulls beneath its feet.
"OBJECT 0-00 NEUTRALIZED,"
it stated in a flat, emotionless voice.
"CONFIRMING DISPOSAL. PRIORITY — ALPHA."
The Enforcer raised its left arm.
With a soft hiss, a long molecular-edged blade extended from its wrist. The weapon glowed faintly blue — ready to slice through flesh, bone, and implants in a single motion.
Astra closed her eyes.
In that moment, she did not pray to the System. She did not ask the Corporation for protection, did not call upon protocols or stability indexes.
She prayed to the Void.
The same Void that hid beyond the Dead Moon. The one that whispered to her in moments of silence. The one that now looked at her… from within.
If you can hear me… she thought, feeling her strength drain with every drop of blood.
If there's something out there in that cursed emptiness… don't let me vanish like this. Don't let them erase me like just another defect. I want… to see this world crack. I want to be that crack.
Silence.
Then—an answer.
Not in words. Not in sound.
It felt like something opening inside her chest — cold, ancient, endlessly hungry. As if a vast hand had settled over her heart… and gently tightened.
You are not alone anymore, little spark,
whispered something deep within her mind.
The voice was neither male nor female. It sounded like ice fracturing in space, like the whisper of dead stars.
The Void always hears those who are willing to become its voice. But the price will be high. Are you ready to pay it?
Astra did not have time to answer.
The Enforcer was already standing over her. The blade rose, ready to fall.
And in that instant, her body jerked — not by her will.
Something inside her had fully awakened.
And the Void… smiled.