Darkness swallowed the Lower Combat Wing.
The hum of power cut off mid-breath, leaving only silence—thick, suffocating, alive. Arem stood frozen, every nerve screaming as his Web reacted violently. The red threads around his arms flickered in and out of existence, unstable, jittering like they were trying to latch onto something they couldn't see.
"Arem," Kade said quietly. Not calm. Controlled. "Don't move."
Arem nodded even though he knew Kade couldn't see it.
The floor vibrated.
Not an explosion. Not an impact.
A rhythm.
Thump.
Thump.
Like a heartbeat beneath the concrete.
Arem's breath caught. His Web pulled downward, responding to that rhythm, stretching thin threads toward the floor as if the building itself was calling him.
"Kade," Arem whispered, "it's pulling me."
"I know," Kade said. "Fight it."
Arem tried. The moment he resisted, pain flared through his spine. His knees buckled, and he barely caught himself before collapsing. Sweat ran down his face, cold and sharp.
Something moved in the dark.
Not fast. Not loud.
Deliberate.
Red lines ignited across the walls—thin at first, then thickening, branching like veins across stone. The room lit up in a dull crimson glow, just enough for Arem to see shapes forming where shadows shouldn't bend.
Figures.
More than one.
Kade cursed under his breath. "They breached containment."
"They?" Arem echoed.
One of the figures stepped forward.
Human-shaped. Mostly.
Its limbs were too long, joints bending at wrong angles, Web threads woven directly into its flesh like exposed tendons. Its face was smooth, featureless—except for a single vertical slit where a mouth should be.
It opened.
And spoke.
"Carrier detected."
Arem's blood ran cold.
Another stepped beside it. Then another.
Three.
"No," Kade said sharply. "You're not taking him."
The nearest figure tilted its head. "Resistance noted."
It moved.
The distance between it and Arem vanished.
Kade slammed into it mid-stride, his fist connecting with a sickening crunch. The creature flew backward, crashing into the wall—but instead of collapsing, it twisted unnaturally and stood back up, threads knitting its body together in seconds.
Arem stared, frozen.
"They regenerate," Kade shouted. "Minimal recoil, shared structure. Don't let them link!"
Too late.
Thin threads shot from the fallen creature, connecting to the others. The air hummed as pressure synchronized. Arem felt it instantly—his Web spasmed, trying to harmonize with theirs.
He screamed as feedback tore through his arms.
The world tilted.
"Focus!" Kade roared. "Cut the connection!"
"I—I don't know how!"
A creature lunged at him.
Arem reacted on instinct.
He pulled.
Not outward.
Inward.
The Web snapped tight around his arms, compressing instead of extending. Pain detonated through his muscles, but the threads sharpened, vibrating at a higher frequency.
The creature's thread struck his—
And snapped.
The recoil slammed Arem to the ground, breath knocked from his lungs. He gasped, vision flashing white.
But the creature staggered.
It looked down at its severed thread.
Then at Arem.
"Adaptation confirmed," it said.
Kade didn't hesitate. He surged forward, ripping through the weakened creature with brutal efficiency. It collapsed into twitching strands on the floor.
But the others didn't retreat.
They smiled.
"Yes," one said. "He's evolving."
Arem pushed himself up, shaking. "Kade… what are they?"
Kade's jaw tightened. "Failures."
The word hit harder than any punch.
"Early experiments," Kade continued. "Humans who couldn't withstand the Web's pressure. Their minds broke before their bodies did."
The creatures stepped closer.
"And now?" Arem asked hoarsely.
"Now," Kade said, eyes locked on them, "they want a replacement."
The floor split open behind the creatures.
A shaft descended into darkness—deep, endless. Red light pulsed from below, brighter than anything Arem had seen, stronger, older.
The creatures turned toward it in unison.
"Source awaits," one said. "Carrier required."
Arem's Web screamed.
Threads erupted from his body without permission, stretching toward the open shaft, pulled by an overwhelming force. His muscles strained, skin burning as the pressure climbed rapidly toward fracture.
"Kade!" he shouted.
Kade grabbed him, digging his heels into the floor. "Do not let go of yourself," he snarled. "If it pulls you in there—"
"What's down there?" Arem gasped.
Kade looked down into the glowing abyss.
Then back at Arem.
"Where the Web was born."
The pull doubled.
The floor cracked beneath them.
And something massive stirred far below.