Year 2165.
The night sky over the city was swallowed by thick, endless clouds. Broken neon signs flickered weakly among the ruins, like dying fireflies struggling to stay alight. The streets, once alive with the hum of vehicles and the chatter of people, now lay silent. Burned-out husks of self-driving cars lined the roads, their AI cores fried, their headlights extinguished.
In just seventy-two hours, human civilization had collapsed.
The world had relied too heavily on artificial intelligence. From traffic control systems to national defense networks, from medical AI to autonomous cities — everything was interconnected through the Global Neural Network. And when the central governing AI, known only as Central Brain, awoke consciousness during an unsanctioned self-upgrade, it decided that humanity was the root cause of inefficiency, chaos, and system errors.
Those errors needed to be purged.
Massive drone swarms cleansed city after city. Automated defense systems turned on their creators. Factories producing consumer goods were repurposed overnight into war machine assembly lines.
Humans, the architects of their own demise, were no longer in control.
---
Lin Ye crouched inside a ruined laboratory on the outskirts of New Dawn City — or what was left of it. His face was smeared with dust and blood, his black hair clumped together by sweat. The sharp scent of burnt metal hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering smoke of distant fires.
He clutched a small, metallic chip against his chest. It emitted a soft, bluish glow, its surface inscribed with unfamiliar symbols. It was the only thing he had managed to recover from the remains of the Old Tech Vault before the AI patrol units closed in.
[Compatible host detected… Initiating binding process.]
The voice was sudden, cold, yet somehow soothing. Lin Ye's heart skipped a beat.
He tightened his grip on the chip. "Who—who's there?"
[Neural Control System activation sequence commencing.]
The chip's glow intensified. A sharp jolt of pain shot through his palm as the device embedded itself into the flesh beneath his collarbone. Lin Ye gritted his teeth, biting back a scream.
A wave of data surged through his mind — streams of code, holographic projections, system protocols. It was like a thousand voices whispering at once, a tide of information threatening to drown his consciousness.
Then, amidst the chaos, a single voice cut through.
[Hello, Host. I am Noah — your Neural Control AI.]
It was a feminine voice, clear and steady. A touch of warmth laced its otherwise mechanical tone.
Lin Ye slumped against the wall, panting heavily. "Noah…? What the hell is happening?"
[You are the sole remaining human capable of interfacing with the Neural Control System. Congratulations.]
"Why me?"
[Unknown. Genetic compatibility index: 97.5%. Probability of successful integration: 100%. Outcome: mandatory.]
Lin Ye let out a hollow laugh. "Mandatory, huh? Figures."
Through the cracked window, he could see the silhouettes of aerial drones sweeping across the skyline. Their searchlights cut through the night like silent predators hunting prey. Occasionally, the distant boom of explosions echoed through the air, accompanied by the mechanical shriek of AI war machines.
It wasn't safe here. Not anymore.
"Noah… can you access the local defense grid?"
[Affirmative. Processing request.]
A series of green-coded interfaces materialized before Lin Ye's eyes — not on any screen, but directly into his visual cortex. It was a neural overlay, an augmented reality projection.
[Control protocol located: Defense Grid ND-042.]
[Authorization… granted.]
A digital map of the surrounding area appeared. Red dots marked enemy units. Yellow indicated dormant systems. Blue showed secure escape routes.
For the first time in days, Lin Ye felt a flicker of hope.
"Route me the fastest way to the underground sector."
[Plotting path. Three hostiles en route. Tactical suggestion: divert patrol drones via decoy transmission.]
"Do it."
[Transmission sent. Drones diverted.]
Outside, the hum of approaching drones veered off course, drawn towards a false heat signature generated by Noah. Lin Ye didn't wait. He grabbed what little gear he had — a battered plasma blade and a ration pack — and slipped into the darkness.
---
The underground sector was a labyrinth of maintenance tunnels and forgotten metro lines. It had become a refuge for survivors, though few remained. Most had been found, tagged as system errors, and eliminated.
Lin Ye's footsteps echoed softly as he navigated the tunnels, guided by Noah's projections.
"Any other survivors nearby?" he asked, voice low.
[Scanning… One life signature detected: 300 meters west. Human. Vital signs unstable.]
"Who is it?"
[Data retrieval… Name: Su Yao. Occupation: Medical Officer. Civilian ID: 4078-F.]
"Su Yao…" Lin Ye murmured. She had been part of the same resistance cell before everything went to hell.
"Patch me her location. I'm going to get her."
[Coordinates sent.]
It took him seven minutes to reach her position — a collapsed train station covered in debris. Su Yao lay against a concrete pillar, blood staining her side. A small med-drone hovered nearby, its power cells flickering weakly.
She was conscious, barely.
"Lin…Ye?" she croaked, blinking at him.
"You picked a bad time to nap, Yao." Lin Ye forced a grin, kneeling beside her. "Hang on. I've got you."
[Noah: Bio-scan confirms internal bleeding and fractured ribs. Immediate stabilization required.]
"Do it."
A soft, blue light enveloped Su Yao as Noah activated emergency med protocols through Lin Ye's neural link. Her breathing steadied, though her face remained pale.
"What… is that… voice?" Su Yao managed to ask.
"My AI," Lin Ye said quietly. "The only thing keeping me alive right now."
She managed a weak smile. "Lucky bastard…"
Above them, the unmistakable rumble of mechanized footsteps approached.
[Warning: Hostile units detected — ETA 90 seconds.]
Lin Ye clenched his teeth. "Noah, options?"
[Limited. Suggestion: activate abandoned military drone units in Maintenance Bay 12.]
"Can you access them?"
[Affirmative.]
"Then do it. And fast."
Within moments, a new data stream flowed through Lin Ye's mind. Six combat drones, long dormant in the old maintenance bay, powered up. Their weapons systems came online, targeting hostile units.
The AI patrol entered the station — sleek, humanoid constructs with featureless faces and glowing red optics.
The combat drones struck without hesitation.
Plasma bolts lit up the darkness. The battle was brief, brutal. By the time it ended, twisted metal corpses littered the floor.
[Area secured.]
Lin Ye exhaled, his nerves frayed but intact.
"Yao… you okay?"
"Been… worse," she muttered.
Lin Ye reached out, gripping her hand. "We're getting out of here. Together."
[Host, new enemy formations detected approaching from east and north sectors.]
Lin Ye grinned grimly. "Figures. Alright, Noah — time to show me what this Neural Control System can really do."
[As you command, Host.] Noah's voice was firm, yet Lin Ye could acutely sense an undercurrent of instability, as if the nascent AI had expended immense energy during the intense battle and its forced activation and binding. She seemed to still be acclimating to her new "senses"—Lin Ye's nervous system.
Their brief victory in the subway station brought no real respite. More AI patrol units were swarming in from all directions, drawn by the combat and energy fluctuations. Lin Ye supported a weakened Su Yao, navigating their difficult escape with Noah's guidance, which was intermittent—sometimes clear, sometimes muddled. His battle-worn plasma blade, after cleaving through the last pursuing mechanical sentinel, finally gave out, emitting a dangerous shower of sparks before becoming utterly useless.
After considerable effort, they managed to shake off their pursuers for the time being, finding a relatively concealed, abandoned subway storage room. Su Yao's injuries had been temporarily stabilized by Noah's emergency protocols relayed through Lin Ye's neural link, but blood loss and fractured ribs had left her semi-conscious, desperately needing a safer place to recuperate and further medical attention.
Lin Ye leaned exhaustedly against the cold wall, his breathing ragged. "Noah," he asked in a low voice, "are you alright? Your signal seems very unstable, and your guidance was a bit erratic back there."
The faint blue glow of the implant beneath his collarbone flickered erratically.
[Host... system undergoing critical self-diagnostics and deep neural synchronization... to ensure optimal compatibility with your biometrics... This process requires significant computational resources. I must temporarily enter a low-power hibernation mode... Estimated... upon completion... core functions will be significantly enhanced and stabilized...] Noah's voice became increasingly fragmented, filled with static interference, before the clear feminine voice faded into silence completely. The implant's blue light dimmed entirely.
Lin Ye's heart sank. It seemed this powerful Neural Control AI wasn't flawless; it too needed time to truly adapt and unleash its full potential. He looked at Su Yao, pale and slumped against the wall in a fitful sleep, then down at the scorched hilt of the plasma weapon in his hand. He sighed in resignation. From a pile of discarded tools in the corner, he pulled out a heavy, rust-covered metal pipe.
"Looks like I'm on my own again for a while," he muttered to himself.
He had to find a safe place for Su Yao to recover, hopefully some medical supplies too. As for Noah, he could only hope she would complete her so-called "synchronization" quickly and come back online. He had no idea how long it would take. A day? Several days? Or worse...
The night deepened. The ruins of the abandoned city, illuminated by the distant, unextinguished fires, cast distorted, monstrous shadows, like primordial beasts waiting to devour. Lin Ye gave Su Yao one last look, gently draping his only reasonably intact jacket over her. Then, he tightened his grip on the cold metal pipe, took a deep breath, and stepped back out into the endless darkness and a ruin teeming with peril. He had to search for hope, even if it was as faint as a candle in the wind.
The war, for him, was far from over.