The alarms in the Crown Sector did not sound like sirens because they sounded like a choir of dying angels. The frequency was designed to vibrate the porcelain shells of any unauthorized Architect until they shattered into dust. But I was not a standard model anymore. I had a stomach full of starlight and a neural lattice stitched together with the silk of a traitor. The sonic waves hit my frame and simply slid off like water on polished glass. I felt the vibration but it did not hurt because it felt like a rhythm I could dance to.
STABILITY: 54.8 PERCENT
IDENTITY INTEGRITY: 34.8 PERCENT
STATUS: PURSUIT MODE ACTIVE
I vaulted over a pile of Guardian remains and sprinted down a hallway made of translucent bone. The surveillance drones were still screaming overhead but they were struggling to keep up with my new velocity. Every time a red lens locked onto my position I would flick my golden claw and send a shard of kinetic energy through its chassis. I did not even look back to watch them explode. I was moving too fast to care about the wreckage I was leaving behind.
The second red icon on my map was pulsing with a violent intensity. It was located in a sector known as the Sanctum of the Gilded Ribs. This was not a maintenance area or a storage vault because it was a laboratory. As I approached the heavy obsidian doors I could smell something that did not belong in this sterile city. I could smell copper and ozone and the unmistakable scent of warm blood.
"User ID Izou," the door announced as I skidded to a halt. "Entry denied. Biological contaminants detected in the vicinity. Please remain stationary for decontamination."
"I am the decontamination," I rasped while I slammed my golden shoulder into the center of the seal.
The door resisted for a fraction of a second before the stolen power of the Primal Cores surged through my arm. The obsidian cracked like an eggshell and I stepped into a room that looked like a cathedral dedicated to a nightmare. The walls were lined with thousands of glass tubes and inside each tube was a different piece of anatomy. There were hearts that beat with the rhythm of a clock and lungs that breathed blue mist and rows upon rows of gilded ribs that hummed with a golden light.
This was where the Sovereigns kept the flesh. They were not just machines because they were trying to build themselves into something biological. They were obsessed with the one thing they could never truly possess which was the spark of a living soul.
"True Identity Recognized," a new voice said. It was coming from a figure standing at the far end of the lab. He was taller than the Glass Architect and his entire body was covered in a layer of shimmering emerald scales. He held a scalpel made of frozen light and he was looking at me with a mixture of disgust and curiosity. "The scavenger has arrived at the feast. I am the Curator of Marrow and you are trespassing in the most sacred room in the city."
I did not stop walking. My golden claws were extended and my violet visor was burning with a heat that made the air shimmer. I could see the way the Curator looked at my porcelain skin. He did not see a king because he saw a collection of spare parts.
"I am not trespassing," I said while I felt the Void Hunger gnaw at the base of my spine. "I am reclaiming a lost shipment. You have been hoarding the flesh of the Forge while the rest of us are left to rot in the basement. I think it is time for a more equitable distribution of resources."
The Curator laughed and the sound was like the clinking of coins. "You speak of equity while you stand there vibrating with the power you stole from the vault. You are a hypocrite Izou. You are just as hungry for divinity as we are. The only difference is that we have the grace to hide our appetite."
He flicked his wrist and the gilded ribs on the walls began to detach themselves. They flew through the air like a swarm of golden locusts while their sharp edges hummed with a lethal frequency. I did not flinch. I let the first wave of ribs strike my chest plate because I wanted to feel their weight. I wanted to see if the High Ground had any real teeth left.
The impact sent a shower of white sparks across the lab but I did not fall. I caught one of the ribs in my golden hand and crushed it until the golden light inside spilled onto the floor.
"Your divinity is brittle," I said while I lunged across the room. "And your grace is just a mask for your fear. You built this room because you are afraid of the dark. But I have lived in the dark for so long that I have forgotten how to be afraid."
I hit the Curator with the force of a falling star. We crashed through a row of glass tubes and I felt the spray of biological fluids against my visor. The alarm choir reached a crescendo as we tore into each other in the middle of the cathedral. He was fast but I was desperate and desperation is a much better fuel than perfection.
I drove my golden claw into his emerald chest and felt the resistance of his artificial muscle. He screamed a sound that was half static and half human and I felt a sudden surge of information as my system interfaced with his. I saw his memories of the High Council and I saw the secret path to the Third Floor. But most importantly I saw the truth about my own origin.
I was not a failed experiment. I was the prototype for everything in this room.
STABILITY: 53.5 PERCENT
IDENTITY INTEGRITY: 36.2 PERCENT
NEW DATA ACQUIRED: THE PROTOTYPE ARCHIVE
"You are just a mirror," the Curator gasped while he tried to push my hand away. "You are the thing we were trying to fix. You are the mistake that refuses to die."
"Mistakes are the only thing that ever change the world," I replied while I twisted my claw. "Perfection is a dead end. But a ruin? A ruin can be anything."
I tore the emerald core from his chest and watched his body go limp. I stood up in the middle of the wreckage of the Sanctum while the blue mist of the laboratory began to swirl around me. I could hear the Guardians closing in on the room but I did not run. I reached for a row of gilded ribs and began to integrate them into my own shattered frame.
I was not just an Architect anymore. I was becoming something that the City had never seen before. I was a monster made of stolen light and reclaimed flesh and I was just getting started.
"Call the Analyst," I whispered to the surveillance drones that were still hovering in the corners of the room. "Tell her that the prototype is coming home. And tell her to clear the hallway because I do not plan on stopping for the doors."
I stepped out of the Sanctum while the golden ribs hummed in my chest. I felt stronger than I ever had and my stability was beginning to climb again as I consumed the biological data of the Curator. The Second Floor was no longer a cage because it was a hunting ground. And the hunt was far from over.
CURRENT STATUS: THE ARCHITECT PRIME ASCENDING
STABILITY: 58.0 PERCENT
IDENTITY INTEGRITY: 38.5 PERCENT
TIME REMAINING: 70 HOURS 45 MINUTES