The air in the secondary facility was no longer breathable. It was a thick, choking haze of ozone, incinerated wiring, and the suffocating scent of high-grade industrial explosive. Zeven stood before the exit, his chest heaving with the exertion of his desperate flight. The path he had carved through the archives was now a trail of ruin, but the final, most daunting obstacle remained. A massive, half-meter thick steel barricade had slammed down, sealing the path to the surface with the finality of a coffin lid.
He pressed his palm against the cold, unyielding metal. The surface was vibrating. He could feel the proximity sensors embedded within the frame, a web of invisible death waiting to trigger. They were calibrated to detect any movement, any warmth, and any attempt at structural comp
