Xavier’s footsteps echoed softly in the dark underground corridor, like the rhythm of an old clock that refused to stop. Each step carried the weight of more than just a forgery: it carried a past denied, and a future at stake.
He carried no heavy weapons, just an old pistol hidden on his back and a small folding knife on his ankle. But that was not his main weapon.
It was himself.
He was bait.
And in a world like this, bait that is too quiet triggers the most ferocious hunger.
The hallway ended behind a steel door that was locked from the outside. Xavier attached Teresa’s magnetic key, waiting for a light click before pushing it. The night air immediately hit his face, damp and cold. He now stood in the ruins of an old station that had once been the Empire’s main military route
