The sound cut through the chaos like a blade—a sharp, guttural cry, followed by the unmistakable clatter of a weapon being raised.
Maya's head snapped toward the source. Her blood turned to ice in her veins.
Subject 0004 stood with his back to the treeline, his injured arm hanging limp at his side, his attention fixed on the guards in front of him.
He didn't see the guard behind him, the one who had emerged from the shadows, his rifle raised, the cold black barrel aimed directly at the back of Subject 0004's skull.
He didn't know that death was inches away. He didn't know that in less than a second, everything would end.
Maya's world narrowed to a single point, the guard's finger tightening on the trigger. Subject 0004's unaware silhouette.
The distance between them—too far, too impossible and Maya was already moving.
"NO—!" The word tore from her throat, raw and primal, the cry of an animal fighting for its pack.
Her legs exploded beneath her, her small body hurtling forward with a speed that defied exhaustion, defied pain, defied everything.
Her side screamed with every stride—the deep gash that had been bleeding for the past ten minutes.
Her arms burned, her muscles shrieked but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She crossed the distance in three seconds. Three seconds that felt like an eternity.
Three seconds in which she saw everything—
The guard's finger completing its motion, the spark igniting in the rifle's chamber, the bullet beginning its journey toward Subject 0004's head.
She threw herself forward. Her body collided with the guard's side like a battering ram. The impact sent them both stumbling, the rifle's barrel jerking upward at the last possible moment.
The shot rang out—a deafening crack that echoed through the clearing like thunder.
Subject 0004 flinched, his body tensing for the impact that never came. The bullet tore through the air inches from his ear, burying itself in a tree trunk behind him.
The guard stumbled, his rifle slipping from his grasp. Maya hit the ground hard, her palms scraping against the earth, her side erupting in fresh agony.
But she didn't stop. She scrambled to her feet, her hand closing around her blade. The guard was already reaching for his fallen rifle, his fingers inches from the stock.
Maya lunged.
Her blade drove into his side—between the ribs, just below the armpit, where the armor was thinnest.
The metal slid through fabric, through muscle. She felt the resistance of bone, felt it give way beneath the force of her strike.
She pushed.
The guard's body convulsed. His hand, still reaching for the rifle, froze. His eyes—wide, shocked — turned toward her.
Maya met his gaze.
For a moment, they were suspended in time—the guard staring down at her, his expression frozen between confusion and dawning horror.
Then she pulled the blade free. Blood sprayed across her face—warm, overwhelming. She stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth.
The guard collapsed to the ground, his body hitting the earth with a dull, heavy thud.
The blood was already pooling beneath him, dark and spreading. Maya watched, she couldn't look away. His eyes were still open, still fixed on her.
His lips moved, forming words that never made it past his throat. His hand reached out, trembling, reaching for something she couldn't see. Then it fell.
He was gone.
Maya's blade slipped from her trembling fingers. It hit the ground with a soft clatter, but she barely heard it.
She couldn't feel anything except the blood on her hands—his blood—and the image of his face, frozen in that final moment of confusion.
"0017A—!"
Someone was calling her name. Subject 0011's voice, distant and muffled as though coming from the other end of a tunnel.
"0017 A—!"
She stared at the body, she had killed him. His eyes were still open, fixed on her.
She felt something crack inside her— something deep and fundamental, something that had been holding her together for years.
Her knees buckled.
A sound escaped her throat—a sound that was half-sob, half-scream, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere beyond her control.
"I didn't—I didn't mean— I just wanted to stop him—I just wanted to save. But I killed him. I killed a person. I— I'm a murderer."
She looked at her hands. They were covered in blood. She could feel it on her cheeks, her lips, her tongue. She had tasted his blood.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. She gagged, her body lurching forward. But nothing came up. There was nothing left in her stomach.
~~
Mahi's eyes were fixed on the screen. But she wasn't seeing the projection anymore.
She was seeing her daughter. Her little girl. The one she had held in her arms, the one she had kissed goodnight, the one she had lost.
"She killed someone."
The words came out hollow. Empty as though she was speaking from somewhere far away.
"My baby... killed someone. She's five years old. Five. She should be learning to read. She should be asking me for chocolate.
Instead, she's sitting in a forest, covered in blood, wondering if she's a monster. I can't reach her. I can't tell her that she's not a monster."
Mahim's hands were shaking.
"I've seen soldiers kill but I've never seen a child do it. She didn't even hesitate. She saw the threat, and she acted.
Because that's what she's been trained to do. That's what they've turned her into."
A tear escaped from beneath his closed lids, tracing a slow path down his cheek.
"Where was I? I was here in this house living my life while my daughter was fighting for hers."
Fahad stood in the corner, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His face was a mask of stone but his eyes—his eyes betrayed him.
"I've spent my whole life believing that people who kill are monsters,
That people who take lives are evil. That there's no excuse, no justification, no forgiveness for murder."
He paused.
"And now I'm watching my five-year-old sister kill a man. But, she's not evil. She's just... a child who was forced to do something no child should ever have to do."
He uncrossed his arms. His hands fell limp at his sides.
Naya was sitting on the sofa, her hands pressed against her mouth, her tears flowing freely.
"Her hands," she whispered.
"Look at her hands, they're shaking. She's trying so hard to be strong, but she's just a child. She's just a child."
She let out a choked sob.
"She killed someone to save someone else. She didn't want to do it. She had no choice. And now she's sitting there, all alone, wondering if she's a monster."
~~
A hand touched her shoulder.
She flinched, her body tensing . But it was Subject 0004, his face pale, his injured arm still hanging limp, his eyes filled with something she had never seen in them before.
"0017A, Look at me."
She shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the body.
"Look at me."
Slowly, reluctantly, she raised her gaze to meet his.
"You saved my life, You didn't have to. You could have let me die. But you didn't."
Her lips trembled. "But I killed him."
"Yes."
"I killed a person."
"Yes."
She let out a broken sob. "I'm a monster."
Subject 0004 was silent for a moment. Then he crouched down beside her, his good hand resting on her shoulder.
"No, you're a survivor."
She shook her head again, her tears still falling. "Is there....Is there really?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. Because they both knew the truth, in this world, survival and monstrosity were often the same thing.
Maya's trembling fingers curled into fists. Her tears slowed, then stopped. Her breathing steadied because she had pushed it down.
Buried it beneath the layers of ice she had spent years building. She looked at Subject 0004, her dark eyes hollow.
"We need to move, The guards will regroup."
Subject 0004 studied her for a moment, then he nodded. "Let's go."
Maya rose to her feet.
A sharp cry cut through the haze— Subject 0014's voice, raw with pain. Maya's head snapped toward the sound.
Subject 0014 was on his knees, two guards closing in on him. His axe lay on the ground, just out of reach. His face was pale, streaked with blood and sweat.
Maya's mind cleared fully. There was no time for guilt. No time for grief. Her body moved before she could think, her legs carrying her toward the fallen axe.
She grabbed it.
The weight was immense—far heavier than her blades—but she didn't hesitate. She swung it in a wide, brutal arc, catching one of the guards across the chest.
He flew backward, crashing into his companion.
Subject 0014 scrambled to his feet, his hand closing around the baton of a fallen guard. He swung it, once, twice— and the second guard crumpled.
The two of them stood back-to-back, their chests heaving, their bodies trembling with exhaustion. The guards were still coming— there were too many of them.
But Subject 0002, Subject 0011, and Subject 0004 had regrouped, forming a defensive line around them. Subject 0002's sword was still raised.
Subject 0011's baton was still held tightly in his trembling hands. Subject 0004's rifle was still trained on the approaching guards.
[ AFTER 15 MINUTE ]
The last guard fell with a muffled thud, his body crumpling against the cold concrete steps. The sound echoed through the sudden silence.
Maya stood over him, her chest heaving, her blades dripping crimson.
The blood had already begun to cool on her skin, but she didn't wipe it away. There was no time.
She looked up.
The building loomed before them—a monolithic structure of glass and steel that pierced the grey sky like a blade thrust into the heart of the forest.
Its surface was dark , absorbing the dim light of the artificial sun rather than reflecting it.
"Whoa..." Subject 0011's voice was barely a whisper."That's... that's the extraction point?"
"Seems so," Subject 0014 muttered, hefting his battle axe onto his shoulder. His bald head gleamed with sweat, and a fresh gash across his forearm still oozed blood.
"Looks like the final boss level."
Subject 0004 said nothing. His rifle hung loosely at his side, his injured arm tucked against his chest.
Subject 0002 stepped forward, her samurai sword resting across her shoulders. " We reach the extraction point. We survive."
Her sharp gaze swept across the group, lingering on Maya's pale face. "Right, 0017A?"
Maya didn't answer immediately. She was staring at the building, her dark eyes tracing its lines, its edges, its hidden vulnerabilities.
Maya let out a slow, steadying breath.
"Subject 0011, Stay on the perimeter, watch for threats."
Subject 0011 nodded, his trembling fingers tightening around his bow. "I won't let you down."
"Subject 0014—If we encounter resistance, you hold the line. No one gets past you."
Subject 0014's grin widened. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
"Subject 0004— You take out the high-value targets. The ones with the rifles, the ones with the armor. Make every shot count."
Subject 0004 inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Always do."
"Subject 0002— You watch the flanks, cover the gaps. If anyone tries to flank us, you end them."
Veyra's lips curved into a cold, approving smile. "Finally, someone who understands my talents."
Maya's gaze swept across them one last time.
"Let's move, stay alive."
The entrance was a massive archway of reinforced glass, its surface dark and reflective like the rest of the structure.
As Maya approached, the glass shimmered once—a ripple of light that spread outward from the center like a stone dropped into still water.
Then the doors slid open. A wave of cool air washed over them, carrying the scent of antiseptic and ozone.
The interior was bathed in soft, ambient light—pale blue and silver, the colors of a world that had forgotten the warmth of the sun.
Maya stepped inside.
The foyer was vast—a cavernous space that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. The ceiling was lost in shadow, the walls lined with smooth, polished panels that reflected the dim light like mirrors.
At the center of the room, a series of translucent screens floated in midair, displaying streams of data that flickered and shifted like living things.
And at the far end of the foyer, a single door stood waiting. It was smaller than the others but it pulsed with a soft light as though it had a heartbeat of its own.
"The extraction point," Maya murmured.
"Looks too easy," Subject 0002 said, her sharp eyes scanning the room. "That's suspicious."
"Maybe that's the point," Subject 0011 offered, his voice uncertain. "Maybe they want us to think it's a trap so we'll hesitate."
"Or maybe it actually is a trap," Subject 0014 countered.
Maya didn't answer. She was already walking across the foyer, her bare feet pressing against the cool, polished floor.
She reached the door. It pulsed with that soft light—faster now as though it recognized her presence.
She pressed her hand against its surface. The door hummed. Then it slid open. Maya stepped through.
The room beyond was unlike anything she had ever seen.
It was circular, vast, its walls lined with towering screens that curved upward to meet a ceiling of shifting, star-like lights.
The floor was made of polished obsidian, reflecting the glow of a thousand colors that swirled through the air like living galaxies.
At the center of the room, a single pedestal rose from the floor. Its surface was smooth and atop it rested a small, glowing orb—no larger than her fist—that pulsed with a warm, golden light.
Maya approached it slowly, her footsteps silent against the obsidian floor. The others followed, their weapons lowered, their eyes wide with wonder.
"What is this place?" Subject 0011 whispered.
"The extraction point, it seems," Subject 0002 murmured.
"Or something else," Subject 0004 added.
Maya reached the pedestal. She looked down at the glowing orb, her reflection rippling across its surface.
It was warm, comforting—a stark contrast to the cold, sterile world she had known for so long.She reached out. Her fingers brushed against the orb's surface.
And the room erupted with light.
The screens blazed to life—hundreds of them, thousands of them, a cascade of images and data that streamed across their surfaces like a waterfall of information.
A voice echoed through the room—soft, familiar.
"You've done well, Subject's."
Maya turned. The others turned with her. And there, standing at the edge of the room, was the Instructor. Her amber eyes were fixed on Maya, her expression unreadable.
But there was something different about her now—something that might have been respect or might have been obsession.
"The Nirvana Program has existed for decades. Generation after generation of subjects have passed through these halls. "
Her amber eyes swept across the five children, lingering on each face with an intensity that bordered on reverence.
"But never—in all those years—has a single generation produced five subjects worthy of entering Nirvana B.
Some generations produced one. Most produced none. The trials were too brutal, the conditioning too relentless, the human mind too fragile to endure what we demanded."
Her gaze fixed on Maya.
"And then came your generation. Five subjects.
You have been observed. Studied. Tested beyond the limits of what should be possible. "
A faint smile touched her lips—not cruel, not mocking, but something closer to wonder.
"Your generation has earned a name. A title that will be recorded in the archives of this facility."
She straightened, her voice rising with quiet gravitas."THE GHOSTS OF HELL. "
The words hung in the air like a benediction.
She looked at each of them in turn.
" Remember that name. Carry it with you into Nirvana B. Because what awaits you there will make everything you have endured so far seem like a mere prelude."
She took a step back, her hands clasping behind her back.
"You have proven that you are worthy. The path ahead is darker, the trials more unforgiving. You will face things that will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine."
She inclined her head—a gesture that was almost, but not quite, a bow.
"Congratulations. And may your ghosts carry you through the abbess."
Silence descended upon the chamber.
Subject 0011's voice was barely a whisper.
"Ghosts of Hell..."
Subject 0014 let out a low, incredulous laugh.
"Ghosts of Hell. I like that."
Subject 0002's lips curved into a cold, approving smile. "It suits."
Subject 0004 said nothing, but his eyes—his cold, unreadable eyes—held a glimmer of something that might have been pride.
And Maya, she stood at the center of them all, her dark eyes fixed on the glowing orb, "The Ghosts of Hell," she murmured.
The Instructor's voice softened—just slightly, like the calm before a storm.
"Your training for Nirvana B will begin tomorrow. At dawn. You will be taken to the next phase.
But first—you must be extracted from the simulation."
Subject 0011 let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with relief. "Finally. We're getting out of here."
Subject 0014 grinned, hefting his axe. "About time, I could use a real meal."
Even Subject 0002 allowed herself a small, tired smile. "It's over."
Maya's dark eyes were fixed on the Instructor—watching, sensing something the others had not yet noticed.
There was a stillness in the Instructor's posture. A tension beneath the calm. Her hands, usually clasped so neatly behind her back, had shifted.
One of them had moved—slowly, deliberately—to the folds of her coat. Subject 0011's smile faltered. "Instructor?"
The Instructor's lips curved into a smile—not warm, not kind but something else entirely.
"Extraction requires a different kind of exit."
Her hand emerged from her coat. In it gleamed a sleek, matte-black pistol.
Subject 0014's eyes widened. "What—"
Subject 0011 stumbled backward, his bow clattering to the ground. "Instructor—what are you doing—"
Subject 0002's hand shot to her sword, but she was too far away. Too slow.
Subject 0004 raised his rifle—but the Instructor was already aiming. And Subject 0011 was standing directly in her line of fire.
The shot rang out.
A deafening crack that split the silence like thunder. Subject 0011's body jerked—a sharp, violent spasm. His eyes went wide, his mouth opening in a soundless gasp.
Maya's world narrowed to that single image—Subject 0011, her friend, the one who had always been afraid, standing frozen, a bullet tearing through his chest.
He collapsed, his body crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut. "NO—!" Maya's scream tore through the chamber.
The Instructor lowered the pistol, her expression calm, almost clinical. "Extraction complete. Subjects, you will now be removed from the simulation."
Maya lunged forward, her blades in her hands, her eyes blazing with fury. She crossed the distance between them in seconds—her blade aimed at the Instructor's throat.
But before she could strike, the world shattered.
A sound like a thousand mirrors breaking at once. The walls cracked. The ceiling splintered.
The floor beneath her feet crumbled like glass under a hammer's blow. Maya stumbled, her hands reaching out to steady herself but there was nothing to hold onto.
The world was falling apart around her— pieces of the room breaking away, dissolving into light.
She looked down. Her hands were glowing.
Subject 0004 was shouting something she couldn't hear.
Subject 0011 lay still among the fragments.
The glass-like cracks spread across everything—across the space between them snd then, with a sound like a dying breath, the simulation collapsed into silence.
DARKNESS.