Soon Tyler and Tansy stood once more before the flickering wall, both of them instinctively tightening their grip on each other’s hands. The distortion across the concrete surface pulsed like water trapped inside glass, unstable and unnatural. Even though neither of them fully understood how the passage worked, they had already learned one thing—if they failed to move together, the result might be unpredictable.

Tyler glanced at Tansy and lowered his voice.

"Count together. Don’t lose the rhythm."

Tansy nodded, her expression unusually serious.

"One... two... one... two..."

Their voices remained low as they began stepping backward in perfect sync, carefully matching every movement. Neither dared turn around, because the moment their eyes left the wall, the distortion became active. The strange shimmering surface widened slightly as they approached, almost as if it were reacting to their synchronized movement.

The moment their backs crossed into the wall, both of them felt an odd sensation spread through their bodies.

It did not feel like walking through stone.

It felt more like stepping through cold mist compressed into solid form, where for a brief instant all weight vanished. Tyler felt his balance disappear for half a heartbeat, as though gravity itself had forgotten him, before solid ground returned beneath his feet.

When they fully entered, Tyler’s boot landed on something soft.

He instinctively looked down.

The bird they had thrown in earlier lay directly beneath his foot.

The rope tied to it was gone, cleanly severed somewhere beyond the passage, but the bird itself remained intact, as if nothing had happened to it after entering.

Tansy immediately bent down and picked it up.

Tyler looked at her, expression flat.

She clutched the bird protectively and whispered, "What? That’s our dinner."

Tyler decided not to comment.

Behind them, the spatial distortion still lingered. The same concrete wall remained visible, but now its surface shimmered faintly, unstable like a breathing mirror.

Then both of them slowly turned around.

And froze.

What lay before them was unmistakably the same underground facility they had entered moments ago—

Yet at the same time, it was completely different.

The broken walls they had seen earlier were now whole. Cracks were gone. Dust had vanished. Machines stood exactly where only empty rusted foundations had existed before. Light panels embedded in the ceiling illuminated the chamber with clean white brightness, casting sharp reflections across the polished metallic floor.

The dead silence of abandoned ruins no longer existed here.

Instead, the air carried a low mechanical hum, subtle but constant, as though unseen systems were still operating somewhere deep within the structure.

The spatial distortion behind them suddenly collapsed with a faint ripple.

When Tyler looked back again, only an ordinary wall remained.

At the center of the chamber stood a machine unlike anything Tansy had ever seen in her life.

It was enormous, rising nearly to the ceiling. A circular core floated inside layered metallic rings, each ring slowly rotating at different speeds. Countless tunnel-like circuits curved outward from the core like branches of artificial veins, glowing faintly with blue energy that pulsed rhythmically through the machine.

Tansy stared openly.

Tyler narrowed his eyes.

"This..." he muttered while slowly approaching, "might be what created that spatial passage."

Even he was not completely certain, but the familiar distortion in the air clearly originated here.

On one side of the machine was a smooth glass panel marked with the outline of a human hand.

Tyler hesitated only briefly before pressing his palm against it.

The machine reacted instantly.

Light spread beneath his hand, and a holographic screen rose silently into the air before them.

Rows of symbols appeared.

None of them resembled the writing of Sector 11.

The characters were sharp, geometric, and layered in patterns Tyler had never encountered.

He frowned.

"Do you know this language?"

Tansy stepped closer, squinting at the glowing symbols.

After studying them carefully, she shook her head.

"No. I’ve never seen anything like this."

Tyler exhaled slowly.

Trial worlds always granted him the language of the body he occupied, but this writing clearly belonged to something much older—something from before the world war.

Possibly from the old civilization itself.

He stepped back.

At that moment both of them instinctively turned toward the wall behind them.

The distortion reappeared immediately.

The wall flickered again.

Tyler glanced back toward the machine.

The distortion weakened.

Then he returned his gaze to the wall.

It stabilized once more.

"Interesting," Tyler murmured, now more certain of the connection.

Tansy immediately understood.

"So if we focus on the machine, the passage weakens."

Tyler nodded.

"It reacts to observation. The machine and the passage are linked somehow."

Neither of them stayed longer in the chamber.

Curiosity pushed them deeper into the facility.

Beyond the machine chamber stretched a long corridor lined with rooms on both sides. Unlike the ruined version outside, every part of this place remained functional. As they approached each door, panels slid open automatically with faint mechanical sounds. Ceiling lights flickered alive ahead of them one after another, illuminating their path.

The nearest room looked like a living space.

A clean bed stood against one wall. A polished metal table reflected the ceiling lights. Strange black screens were mounted neatly beside sealed cabinets.

Tansy’s eyes widened as she stepped inside.

She looked left and right like someone who had suddenly entered a hidden treasure chamber.

Many objects here existed only in old school books or stories.

"Jackpot," she whispered, unable to hide her excitement.

Then excitement made her forget caution.

"Jackpot!"

The second word came out far louder than intended.

Tyler reacted instantly.

He grabbed her mouth and pulled her backward before the sound could echo further down the corridor.

Tansy blinked, startled, but quickly understood her mistake.

This place still had power.

If machines still worked, something else might also remain active.

Or worse—

Someone else might already live here.

She nodded quickly to show she understood.

Tyler slowly released her.

Then both of them heard it.

A metallic sound.

Soft at first.

Like a wheel rolling steadily across polished floor.

The sound came from the corridor.

It grew closer.

Neither spoke.

Both rushed under the bed in one smooth movement.

In the rush, the bird slipped from Tansy’s hand and landed outside in the corridor without either noticing.

The space beneath the bed was narrow but enough to conceal them.

They lay flat against the cold floor, breathing as quietly as possible.

The wheel sound reached the doorway.

Then something entered their field of vision.

A single wheel rolled past first.

Attached above it was a small metallic body shaped like a compact cylinder.

A one-wheeled robot.

Its silver surface reflected the corridor light, smooth and flawless. At its center glowed a single red eye, slowly rotating as it scanned the surroundings with unsettling precision.

The robot paused.

Its red eye turned methodically.

Searching.

Scanning.

Tyler and Tansy did not move even slightly.

Then the robot stopped completely.

Its red eye locked onto something outside.

The bird.

A sharp mechanical click echoed.

Panels on the robot’s body unfolded.

Several gun barrels emerged instantly.

Then without warning, the machine opened fire.

A storm of bullets tore through the corridor.

The dead bird exploded into feathers, flesh, and fragments under relentless gunfire. The bullets continued long after nothing recognizable remained, tearing into the walls and floor with terrifying force.

Tyler felt the vibration of each impact through the ground beneath them.

The robot only stopped when absolutely nothing remained of the target except scattered blood and fragments.

Then silence returned.

Only the faint hum of its wheel remained in the corridor, lingering like a warning that whatever existed here still considered every unknown thing a threat.