Part 4: The Last Door
The panic room was 3.6 meters underground, cocooned in sixteen layers of compressed ballistic concrete, alloy mesh, and neuroquiet foam.
It had no windows.
No sound leaks.
No visible locks from the outside.
They called it the Cradle.
And inside it, the four remaining architects of Project Paragon stood in total silence, each one trying not to breathe too loud. Their hands shook. Their skin sweated. No one spoke.
They hadn't heard him breach the Hive.
They had only heard what was left after he passed through.
The screaming. The metal. The wet sounds.
Now, outside the vault, there was no more noise.
And somehow, that was worse.
03:44 – Cradle Internal Clock
Dr. Ashir stood by the food dispenser, hands clenched.
He'd been chewing the inside of his cheek for twenty minutes. The blood ran down his throat, hot and metallic. It gave him something to taste that wasn't fear.
"I think… I think he's at the door," he whispered.
"No," Ellan Marr said. "No. There's no breach alert. No impact signature."
"He doesn't need one," Ashir said.
Then he looked at the wall.
The smooth titanium surface.
Blank.
Until—
A handprint appeared.
Slowly.
From the other side.
It burned in like a branding iron pressed through solid metal.
Five fingers.
The flesh imprint still steaming.
And then—
His voice.
Muffled. Calm.
Not angry.
"Dr. Marr. You were the one who calibrated the anesthesia thresholds. You set the pain levels during thoracic bone grafting. I remember the numbers. You chose 41% instead of 100. You wanted me awake… but quiet."
Ellan stepped back, mouth open, heart racing.
"Styran. You designed the memory collapse loop. You wrote the code that made me forget her. My sister. You said erasure is cleaner than grief. You said 'trauma complicates performance.'"
Styran began shaking. His lips moved. No sound came out.
"Dr. Ashir. You made the language implant. You were the one who reprogrammed my voice. You told me I didn't need words. That I was 'a mouth without purpose.'"
Ashir turned away, clutched the sink, and vomited.
"And you, Lenn Vel… you were the first to call me 'it'. Not even a number, not even an asset. Just a thing in a glass tank. You said I was 'paraborn, not a person.' You were the one who signed off on the kill order."
Lenn fell to his knees.
"No—no—I thought you were dead. We all thought—"
Kairo's voice got harder.
Anger welling up inside him just remembering what they did.
"You hoped I was dead. You built an entire grave for me... and called it success."
Then silence.
No sound. No scratching. No impact.
Just breathing.
From the walls.
From inside them.
The Cradle began to get hot.
03:51 – Internal Temp: Rising
Dr. Ashir began to sweat. Not just from fear—from heat. The walls began to sweat, too. Condensation trickled down steel. The temperature readout on the console blinked:
33°C
35°C
37°C
"What's happening?" Styran hissed.
"He's not breaking in," Ellan muttered. "He's cooking us."
The vents were sealed.
But the temperature kept climbing.
Kairo wasn't opening the vault.
He was boiling it from the outside.
The walls ticked.
Something behind them hummed—a low, vibrating frequency like a god breathing through the metal.
Then—
The lights dimmed.
03:53 – Breakdown
Lenn began to sob.
Not quietly. Loud, choking, gut-deep wails.
"I—I just signed off! I didn't build it! I didn't touch him! I didn't hold the scalpel!"
"But you watched," Ashir said quietly, head low.
"You watched him scream."
The lights pulsed again. A flash of red. Then dark. Then red again.
Then, from the wall:
KAIRO-7 = NOT TERMINATED
KAIRO-7 = GOD'S MISTAKE
It wasn't Kairo speaking.
It was the wall.
The security system had been hijacked.
Styran backed into the corner, shaking. "He's in the system. He's using the Hive's AI."
"No," Ellan whispered.
She pointed to the console.
SYSTEM: OFFLINE
MANUAL CONTROL: INACTIVE
STATUS: DISCONNECTED
"He's not using the system," she said. "He is the system."
03:56 – First to Go
Ashir began mumbling to himself.
Walking in circles.
Then he stopped in front of the wall.
Stared at the handprint.
Blood began to drip from his ears.
"Kairo…" he whispered. "I'm sorry."
Then, slowly, without hesitation, he lifted the emergency laptop from the console.
Raised it above his head.
And slammed it into his own skull.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Until his head caved.
Until his brain spilled like pink oatmeal across the floor.
He twitched once.
Then stopped.
03:58 – Door Opens
Lenn collapsed beside Ashir's body.
Sobbing.
Styran screamed at him. "Get up! Don't touch it! Don't let it in!"
But Lenn only whispered:
"It's already in."
He stood.
Tears mixed with sweat.
Walked to the vault door.
And pressed his hand to the panel.
A hiss.
A groan.
The door opened.
And Kairo stepped in.
He didn't run.
Didn't pounce.
He just walked forward.
Barefoot. Burned. Dripping blood.
His skin steamed.
His eyes glowed.
And he looked at each of them in turn.
Ellan tried to run.
He caught her by the ankle.
Dragged her back.
And with one clean motion—tore her leg off at the knee, using nothing but his hands.
She screamed.
Then choked as he shoved the femur into her mouth.
She drowned in her own blood.
Styran pulled a hidden knife.
Rushed him.
Kairo let him stab him.
Then broke both his arms at the elbows and peeled the skin from his face like a wet napkin.
He carved a final word in his chest:
YOU MADE ME
Then turned to Lenn.
Still kneeling.
Still crying.
"Do it," Lenn whispered.
Kairo stepped close.
Touched his forehead.
And said:
"I want you to remember this."
Then he turned away and let Lenn live.
At least For now.
Because someone had to carry the message.