CHAPTER 181: CHAPTER 181: THE LAB REACTS

The silence after the clone’s death was short-lived.

For a heartbeat, the underground chamber seemed frozen — the grotesque body sprawled across the fractured tiles, steam still rising from its wounds, Lin’s bloodied hand pressed against the floor for balance. Keller’s ragged breathing filled the cavern, Min-joon sobbed quietly against the wall, and the world felt like it might collapse inward on them at any moment.

Then it did.

A low rumble reverberated through the chamber, so deep it felt like it came from the marrow of the earth itself. The walls pulsed with faint light, threads of crimson seeping through cracks in the stone. What had seemed like dormant machinery — forgotten relics of Jin’s twisted empire — suddenly came alive.

"Shit," Keller muttered, pushing himself off the ground. "You just woke the whole damn place up."

Lin rose slowly, his shoulders rigid, face unreadable. He looked down at the mangled corpse one last time — his own face, his own features, mutilated into a nightmare that should never have existed. Something in his eyes flickered, but it wasn’t grief. It was calculation, cold and precise, already shifting to the next fight.

"Move," he said, his voice hoarse but commanding. "We’re not safe here anymore."

The chamber groaned in response, vents opening in the high walls, spewing out jets of pale mist that hissed as it touched the floor. Metal scraped and screeched above as the ceiling shifted. The sound of grinding gears echoed like a beast gnashing its teeth.

Min-joon flinched, clutching at Keller’s sleeve. "It’s not stopping. It knows. It knows we’re here."

Keller gripped his wrist, steady but firm. "Focus. Breathe. You’re not dead yet, kid." He turned to Lin. "Where the hell do we go? You know this place better than anyone."

Lin’s eyes flicked to the far side of the chamber where a heavy archway had begun to open, stone folding back to reveal a descending staircase lined with faintly glowing symbols. He didn’t waste time. "Down."

Keller cursed under his breath. "We just fought our way down here and now you want to go deeper?"

"There’s no way back up," Lin said flatly. "The surface locks the moment a subject is terminated. That was Jin’s design. We don’t climb out. We go through."

Keller’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. Min-joon just stared at Lin, pale and trembling, his voice breaking. "Through... what?"

Lin didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The walls shuddered again, and a section of the chamber’s floor collapsed, revealing a pit of shifting gears and grinding blades below. Staying meant death. Going forward meant a chance.

They moved.

The staircase was narrow, forcing them single file. The walls were slick with condensation, the glowing symbols shifting faintly as though they were alive, pulsing in rhythm with the heartbeat of the facility. Every step echoed too loudly, reminding them that stealth here was meaningless.

Min-joon stumbled halfway down, his hand brushing the walls. His breath caught, and suddenly he jerked back violently as if burned.

"Don’t touch it!" he hissed. "It—it talks—"

Lin stopped and looked back sharply. "What did you hear?"

Min-joon’s face drained of what little color remained. His lips trembled. "Jin. His voice. Clear as if he was right next to me. He said... he said we’ll never leave. That this place is mine now."

Keller cursed again, pulling Min-joon forward before he could freeze. "Ignore it. It’s just tricks. Pipes, echoes, gas. Doesn’t matter. Keep walking."

But Lin lingered for a second longer, his gaze running across the symbols. He didn’t touch them, didn’t let them know he was listening, but his jaw clenched tight. Because Min-joon wasn’t lying — the cadence, the faint sibilance of Jin’s voice, was in the air. Not hallucination. Not imagination. The facility was wired with Jin’s ghost.

He forced them forward.

The staircase ended in a vast corridor, its ceiling arching high above like the ribcage of some colossal beast. Pipes ran along the sides, leaking thin streams of liquid that glowed faintly blue. The floor was metal here, grated and unstable, swaying slightly beneath their weight.

Keller tested it with his boot, grimacing. "Feels like walking on the back of a sleeping animal."

Min-joon whimpered but kept close. Lin moved steadily, his eyes flicking everywhere at once. The corridor bent and twisted, leading them deeper until it finally opened into a new chamber.

And this one was worse.

The chamber was circular, massive, its walls lined with rows of suspended glass tubes stretching up into the dark. Each one glowed faintly, shapes barely visible within. Human shapes.

Min-joon’s breath hitched the second he saw them. He rushed forward, palms pressed against one of the nearest tubes. Inside floated a figure — skin pale, eyes closed, tubes threaded into its veins, face serene in its artificial sleep.

But it wasn’t random.

It was Min-joon.

He stumbled back, shaking his head violently. "No, no, no, no—" His voice cracked into a scream. "That’s not me! That’s not—"

Keller grabbed him, dragging him back, but his own face had paled. Because the next tube over held him. Not perfect, not whole — but close enough to twist the stomach.

And Lin—

He walked forward slowly, every step deliberate, until he stood before one of the central tubes. His reflection stared back at him, and inside floated yet another Lin.

But unlike the clone they had just fought, this one was intact. Sleeping. Waiting.

For a long moment, the silence pressed on all of them.

Then the voice came.

"Successful iterations are preserved," Jin’s voice whispered from the walls, calm and clinical. "Unsuccessful ones are recycled. You, Lin, are neither. You are the question that never resolves."

The chamber’s lights flared crimson. The tubes rattled violently. The sound of locks disengaging thundered overhead.

Keller raised his gun instantly, backing toward the others. "Tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means."

Lin’s eyes never left the glass. "It means they’re waking up."

As if on cue, the first tube cracked, spilling fluid onto the floor. The sleeper inside twitched, then opened its eyes.

Not Min-joon’s eyes. Not Keller’s. Not Lin’s.

Something in-between. Something wrong.

The chamber filled with the sound of hissing pressure and cracking glass as more tubes split open. Figures stumbled out, dripping fluid, their movements jerky but gaining strength with every second. Some looked nearly human. Others... twisted. Bones bent wrong, flesh stretched tight, mouths moving in silent imitation of words.

Keller swore under his breath, gun snapping up. "We can’t fight all of that."

Lin finally turned, his expression set in steel. "We don’t."

"Then what the hell do we do?"

Lin’s eyes flicked toward the far side of the chamber where another sealed passage waited, massive doors lined with heavy locks. "We run."

But the first of the waking figures was already stumbling toward them, its mouth tearing open in an inhuman scream.

They bolted.

Keller fired twice, dropping one of the half-formed things, but more came pouring out of shattered tubes. Min-joon screamed but kept running, his legs pumping on pure terror. The grated floor shook beneath their combined weight, fluid pooling and dripping down into the dark below.

Lin ran ahead, firing in short bursts to clear a path. He slammed into the sealed doors at the far end, hands flying over the controls. Symbols flared red, denying access.

Behind them, the swarm closed in.

Keller’s magazine clicked empty. "Lin!"

"I need time," Lin snapped.

"Don’t have it!" Keller roared, yanking a knife free and slashing at the nearest creature. It shrieked, blood spraying, but two more lunged past it.

Min-joon nearly collapsed as one clawed at him, tearing through his sleeve. Lin pivoted, one arm shooting out, dragging the boy behind him as he fired point blank into its head.

The door shuddered. A lock disengaged. Then another.

But the swarm was too close.

Keller slammed his back against Lin’s, blade flashing as he fought to buy seconds. "If you’re gonna open it, now’s the time!"

The last lock snapped free. The doors screeched open.

"Go!" Lin barked.

They shoved Min-joon through first, Keller on his heels, slashing one last time before diving inside. Lin followed, slamming his palm against the control panel. The doors groaned shut behind them, cutting off the screams.

Silence returned — but only for a moment.

Because ahead, the corridor stretched into darkness. And at the far end of it, faint lights flickered. Not red. Not blue.