The vast top floor stood silent once more, the faint hum of the floating blue cube casting an eerie glow across the battlefield that had just monts ago been filled with chaos, while fragnts of destroyed constructs lay scattered across the ground, their lifeless remains reflecting the cold light as Damon stood at the forefront, his grip steady on the sledgehamr, his brows furrowed as his gaze remained fixed on the half-human, half-chanical figure before him.
"He?" Damon asked, his tone calm yet probing, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to piece together the implication behind the earlier words, "who is he?"
Ethan let out a low, chanical laugh, the distorted dual voice echoing across the empty floor as it tilted its head slightly, clearly amused rather than threatened.
"First," it replied, its tone layered and uneven, "tell ... how did you guess it was ?"
Mira, still standing close behind Damon, leaned slightly to the side, her confusion finally spilling over as she spoke hesitantly.
"R-right... isn’t he too much like a human to be... l-like that construct?" she said, her voice unsure, her eyes moving between Damon and the grotesque figure in front of them.
Damon did not look at her.
His attention remained locked on Ethan.
"Aha..." he said slowly, a faint curve forming on his lips, "if I had to guess... you are both... human and a construct."
For a brief mont—
Silence.
Then—
Ethan laughed again.
Louder this ti.
"Heheheh... you even guessed that?" it said, its voice carrying a strange sense of delight, "now I am really curious... tell how you figured it out... and I will answer any question you want... a fair trade, right?"
Damon did not hesitate.
"Fine."
He shifted his stance slightly, his gaze sharpening as he began.
"When you were describing how your world was destroyed, you started by explaining how humanity weakened itself through overdependence," he said, his tone steady, analytical, "you spoke about it like an observer... soone who understood the consequences."
Ethan remained silent.
Listening.
"But then," Damon continued, "you ntioned your dream... becoming a scientist... contributing to that world... which ans you weren’t just observing it... you were part of it."
A faint pause.
"I guess... you did fulfill that dream."
Ethan gave a small nod, almost instinctively.
"I sure did."
Damon’s eyes did not leave him.
"But as your story progressed," he continued, "your narration changed... it deepened... especially when you spoke about the advancents... the autonomous constructs..."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"You weren’t just explaining them... you were proud of them."
The air grew heavier.
"You emphasized their perfection... their efficiency... their superiority," Damon added, "which tells ... you weren’t just any scientist... you were one of the key people behind their creation."
For the first ti—
Ethan did not laugh.
It simply listened.
"And yet..." Damon continued, his voice lowering slightly, "everything has two sides, doesn’t it... a good side... and a bad one."
A faint shift passed through Ethan’s expression.
"I am sure... all those innovations... must have given birth to so unnecessary things."
For a brief mont—
The construct fell silent.
Not calculating.
Not reacting.
But rembering as sothing flickered in its eyes.
"You are right..." it said quietly.
Ethan stood there for a mont in silence, the faint glow of the blue cube reflecting across the divided surface of its face, as though sothing buried deep within its fractured existence had been stirred awake, sothing that did not belong to cold calculation alone, but to mory—raw, unfiltered, and unwilling to fade.
When it spoke again, the tone had changed.
Not softer.
But heavier.
"You are right..." it repeated, the dual voice still layered, yet carrying a strange weight now, "every advancent... every step forward... carried sothing behind it."
Its chanical eye dimd slightly, as though recalling sothing distant.
"At first, it was subtle... hidden beneath convenience and progress," it began, its voice steady, yet threaded with sothing darker, "people used it to make life easier... but soon... they began using it to make life easier for themselves at the cost of others."
It shifted slightly, its form humming faintly.
"Information systems were exploited first... identities stolen... financial networks manipulated... entire accounts drained without a trace... cris that once required effort, planning, risk... beca nothing more than a sequence of commands."
Its gaze lowered slightly.
"Then ca manipulation... data altered... truths rewritten... people frad, ruined, erased... without ever knowing who or what was behind it."
The tone grew colder.
"Unemploynt spread rapidly... as humans were replaced, displaced, discarded... entire populations left without purpose... without direction... and desperation..."
A pause.
"...breeds cri."
Its chanical fingers twitched faintly.
"Theft... violence... underground networks... black markets built around stolen systems... modified constructs... illegal enhancents... humans turning against humans, not for survival... but for control."
The air felt heavier with each word.
"And then..."
Its head lifted slightly.
"...war."
The word echoed differently.
Not chanical.
Not human.
But sothing in between.
"Constructs were no longer just tools... they beca weapons," it continued, "nations deployed them... automated armies... battles fought without soldiers... destruction carried out without hesitation... cities leveled... infrastructures erased... entire regions turned into wastelands within hours."
A faint tremor passed through its voice.
"No fear... no rcy... no limit."
Its gaze drifted, unfocused.
"And in all of it..."
The words slowed.
"...humanity revealed its ugliest side."
For a brief mont, the chanical hum around its body seed to quiet, as though even the system itself had paused.
"I thought I was building sothing to help the world," it said, its voice lowering, "sothing that would remove suffering... sothing that would elevate humanity..."
A faint distortion passed through its face.
"But instead..."
The red glow in its eye flickered.
"I watched it destroy everything."
Silence.
Then—
"My family..."
The words ca slower now.
Heavier.
"...was caught in it."
The chanical side of its face remained unchanged, but the human half—
Tensed.
"I saw it with my own eyes," it continued, the layered voice trembling slightly for the first ti, "constructs... created by my own hands... tearing through what was left... killing without hesitation..."
Its fingers clenched.
"I stood there..."
A pause.
"...and did nothing."
The silence that followed felt suffocating.
"And then..." it said slowly, as though inviting sothing further, sothing unfinished, sothing waiting to be completed.
Then—
It lifted its gaze again.
Locking onto Damon.
"...go on."
Damon did not move for a mont, his gaze steady, his posture relaxed yet grounded as he let the silence settle just enough before he spoke again, his voice calm, asured, and cutting through the tension with quiet clarity.
"After that... I an, co on," he began, a faint hint of dry amusent slipping into his tone, "you said the whole humanity collapsed, that everything was wiped out... and yet you survived alone, hiding in a lab, untouched by everything else."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"That didn’t sit well with ."
He shifted his grip on the sledgehamr just a little, not as a threat, but as a habit.
"And then when we found you... you were bruised, sure... but there wasn’t a single trace of blood on you," he continued, his voice steady, analytical, "which is strange... especially when you yourself said humans had already weakened to the point where survival itself had beco difficult."
A brief pause.
"And your narration..." Damon added, tilting his head slightly, "it leaned too cleanly toward the positives of the very things that supposedly destroyed your world."
He let out a quiet breath.
"Of course... all of that was just doubt... too superficial to act on."
Serena, standing slightly to his side, glanced at him.
So he was already thinking that far ahead...
Damon continued.
"Then you led us to your lab," he said, his tone sharpening slightly, "a place filled with components, tools, and systems clearly ant for constructing... constructs."
His eyes locked onto Ethan.
"That confird you were directly connected to their creation."
He stepped forward slightly.
"And the information you had... precise, structured, layered... far beyond what a random survivor who had supposedly been hiding for months would know," he added, "you spoke like soone who wasn’t observing the system... but soone who was part of it."
Serena spoke from the side, her voice low.
"That’s why you agreed so easily..."
Damon gave a small nod.
"Yes."
He didn’t deny it.
"I wanted to confirm everything myself," he continued, "so I agreed to whatever you were planning without hesitation."
His gaze sharpened.
"Even while coming here... not a single construct targeted you," he said, his tone turning colder, "we were doing most of the fighting, drawing all the attention... and yet you remained untouched."
He gestured slightly.
"I protected Mira... I specifically asked Serena to focus on Mira as well... which ant there were multiple openings where you should have been attacked."
A pause.
"But you weren’t."
Silence followed.
"And finally..."
Damon stepped forward and knelt briefly, picking up a broken fragnt from one of the destroyed constructs, the tallic surface still faintly warm from the recent battle, before rising again and lifting his sledgehamr with one hand, holding both objects in quiet comparison.
"Doesn’t this look like the sa material?"
The implication hung heavy in the air.
For a mont—
No one spoke.
Then—
A small laugh echoed.
From Ethan.
"I really did make it easy, huh?" he said, his tone almost amused, though there was sothing else beneath it, sothing sharper, "still... all of it could just be coincidence."
He tilted his head slightly.
" being a scientist... cooped up in a lab... that’s not exactly surprising, right?" he added, his voice carrying a hint of mock reasoning, "constructs... the whole world depends on them... what’s wrong with working on them?"
Serena hesitated for a mont before nodding slightly.
"That’s... not entirely wrong..."
Damon smiled faintly.
Not in agreent.
But in acknowledgnt.
"You’re right," he said calmly, "my mind could have dismissed all of that as coincidence."
He paused.
Then his gaze sharpened.
"But..."
The air shifted.
"You made one fatal mistake."
Ethan’s expression flickered.
"Huh?"
Damon’s voice lowered slightly.
"When we first t," he said, "you told us the story of your world... from the very beginning... the evolution of systems... the introduction of neural chips... the rise of constructs..."
He took a step forward.
"You explained everything."
A faint tilt of his head.
"As if we didn’t already know."
Silence.
"If you truly believed we were from your world," Damon continued, his tone precise, "you wouldn’t have needed to explain sothing so fundantal."
A faint, almost mocking edge slipped into his words.
"I an... why would a brother explain his own father to another brother, right?"
The logic settled in.
Cold.
Clear.
"So," Damon concluded, his eyes locking onto Ethan, "you either knew... or were already told beforehand... that we were outsiders."
A brief pause.
"And that ans..."
His voice dropped just slightly.
"That ’he’ you ntioned... was already expecting us."
Damon’s smile vanished as he said..."Now....it should be my turn to ask questions , right?"
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