The quarantine lights pulsated in the charcoal sky, a silent grid of sentinels that turned the horizon into a geometric cage. To the residents of the Experimental Sector, the sky looked like a cracked screen. To Fang Yi, it looked like an invitation.
"If they’ve locked the doors, we’ll use the vents," Fang Yi said, his voice echoing through the newly constructed Hall of Gates.
The structure was an architectural paradox. It was built from "Living Obsidian," a material Fang Yi had coded to react to thought. The walls didn't just stand; they breathed, shifting their geometry to accommodate the flow of data. At the center of the hall hovered a swirling vortex of iridescent black—the Chaos Gate.
X stood at the edge of the vortex, her fiber-optic hair glowing a cautious amber. "You’re sending
