After the one-wheeled droid finally rolled away and the sound of its wheel faded deeper into the corridor, Tyler slowly pushed himself out from beneath the bed. His movements were cautious, but the moment he rose enough to look outside, Tansy grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back down so abruptly that his shoulder nearly struck the bed frame.

She pressed a finger to her lips.

Only then did Tyler hear it.

More sounds.

Not one machine this time, but several—lighter, quicker, moving with a rhythm different from the armed droid that had shredded the bird moments earlier.

Both of them remained still beneath the bed while the sounds grew closer. A few seconds later, several small droids entered the corridor.

Unlike the armed machine, these were smaller and built differently. Their bodies were rounded and smooth, with multiple thin mechanical arms folded neatly against their sides. Their wheels moved silently over the polished floor as they approached the mess left by the destroyed bird.

Tyler and Tansy watched in silence. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

The droids immediately began working with frightening efficiency.

One machine extended a suction arm and collected feathers, blood, and scraps of flesh into a sealed compartment. Another sprayed a fine mist over the corridor floor, dissolving the bloodstains almost instantly. A third droid moved to the damaged wall and applied some kind of quick-hardening paste into the bullet holes. Within seconds, the holes were sealed. Another mechanical arm spread matching paint over the repaired section until the wall looked untouched.

Even the bullet shells scattered across the floor were collected one by one.

Finally, another droid swept the corridor until nothing remained—not even dust disturbed by the gunfire.

It looked as though nothing had happened there at all.

"Maintenance robots," Tyler whispered once the machines moved farther down the corridor.

Tansy nodded slowly, her eyes wide with amazement.

"These things clean faster than ten people."

Tyler carefully slid out from beneath the bed again, this time slower, and crouched near the doorway. He looked down the corridor and noticed something he had missed earlier.

At the far end, mounted near the ceiling, small dark lenses pointed toward different sections of the hallway.

Cameras.

He immediately lowered his head again.

"There are cameras at the corridor ends," he said quietly. "I’m not sure if these AIs are being monitored by something else."

Tansy followed his gaze and frowned.

"Then should we just take what we can and leave?" she asked, though her eyes were already wandering around the room with obvious excitement.

To her, every object here looked valuable.

Tyler looked around more carefully.

The room itself was simple but functional. A single bed stood against the wall. There was a polished table beside it, a built-in screen on one side, and a narrow door that probably led to a bathroom.

"This is just a bedroom," Tyler said. "More like a single living unit. There’s even an attached bathroom. If this facility was active, then people probably lived here while working."

Tansy looked at him. "Used to?"

Tyler nodded.

"Yes. Because despite all the machines, we haven’t seen a single human."

He paused before adding, "So for now, we assume only droids remain."

Tansy slowly turned toward the closet near the wall.

Then suddenly pointed.

"Oi, look at that."

Inside the closet hung a neatly arranged blue uniform.

It looked untouched by time.

┉┈ ◈ ◉ ◈ ┈┉

Meanwhile, activity had begun across every sector of Libria.

From early morning onward, long convoys entered through the main roads—sleek vehicles bearing the mark of the Capital, accompanied by train compartments that unloaded workers in identical uniforms. Some arrived in armored transport cars, while others stepped down directly from restricted rail lines that ordinary sector citizens were never allowed to board.

The workers wasted no time after arriving.

Without explaining anything to the locals, they immediately spread through each sector and began assembling large structures in the center of public squares. Metal frames rose quickly under practiced hands. Panels were locked into place with mechanical precision. Thick cables were connected underground, and within hours enormous screens began taking shape, towering over streets where people usually gathered for ration lines or announcements.

The entire operation happened simultaneously in every sector.

No one dared interfere.

No one dared ask questions.

People simply watched from a distance.

Mothers carrying ration bags stood silently near alleyways. Miners paused on their way to work. Children hid behind adults, whispering while staring at the unfamiliar equipment.

Everyone knew one thing—

If the Capital sent workers in such numbers, it was never for the benefit of the sectors.

In Sector 11, Old Lady Veena stepped out of her house carrying a rainbow umbrella despite the clear weather. The umbrella had faded in places, but she held it proudly like someone who refused to surrender color to a gray world.

She stopped when she saw the construction in the middle of the town square.

The giant screen was already half assembled.

Metal beams reflected pale daylight while workers from the Capital moved efficiently around it.

Veena chuckled under her breath.

"So... that gold bastard wants Capital Games again."

Her tone carried neither surprise nor excitement.

Only old disgust.

She stood there for a while, watching the workers, and memories surfaced whether she wanted them or not.

The last Capital Games.

She still remembered them too clearly.

The cheering crowds in the Capital.

The staged smiles of wealthy spectators.

The desperate faces of sector participants promised hope and reward if they survived.

But behind every shining stage there had only been betrayal, blood, and death.

The rich loved calling it entertainment.

A game where poor people were pushed to fight, struggle, and bleed while the Capital watched from comfortable seats and applauded survival as if it were talent rather than desperation.

Veena shook her head slowly and turned to leave.

But after taking a few steps, she paused.

A face entered her mind.

Tyler.

The young man she had met recently.

There was something about him she still could not explain.

He did not belong to Sector 11.

Yet he did not feel like someone from the Capital either.

As if he had stepped into this broken world carrying a weight that did not match its rules.

Her instincts, sharpened by years of journalism, stirred uneasily.

Something major was coming.

She could feel it.

Without lingering longer, Veena returned home and pushed aside several boxes until she found an old metal container hidden beneath a table.

She opened it carefully.

Inside lay an old circular drone, dusty but intact.

Its surface was scratched, yet still recognizable.

Veena smiled faintly.

"Hey, Camie... it’s been years."

The little machine had once been her favorite camera drone during her reporting days.

She lifted it gently, wiped away the dust, and pressed a small button on its side.

For a moment nothing happened.

Then the screen flickered.

A soft light slowly came alive.

Veena’s eyes sharpened.

"Let’s do journalism one last time."