In the deep sea, everything was pitch-black, save for a faint light far above.

Rows of transparent rooms glowed in the dark, stretching into the distance and vanishing into blackness, with no end in sight.

This place was far larger than Rong Shi had imagined.

Alarms blared. Metal walls rose and swiftly sealed every room. AI sentries across the complex activated.

The red sensors on the AI units became tiny red dots in the darkness.

Near and far, the dots multiplied geometrically, growing denser and denser.

Several laser beams shot down the corridor from both ends. Rong Shi yanked Song Yu tight to the wall, raised his gun, and fired at the center of an AI’s emitter.

The hit unit blew immediately.

Rong Shi: [This model’s defenses are high. Increase air-compression ratio to 400%+.]

As Rong Shi fired, Song Yu, in perfect sync, took the opposite angle and shot other AI.

Song Yu: [Run or fight?]

The corridors branched everywhere, but each path had AI covering it. Once the AI boxed the junctions, they’d be turned into sieves.

01: [Aaaa this is easily over a thousand!]
00: [Over a thousand.]
01: [Master, hold steady—little bro and I are cracking the local AI controller, Poseidon.]
00: [Holding. Cracking. Awoo.]

Song Yu: …

Echo bot?

Rong Shi swept the area quickly. With the metal shutters up, sightlines were blocked.

01’s scanning was limited; he had to reconstruct from what he’d seen earlier.

The big cat had said the core data center was on the seabed—you had to cross here to reach it.

Rong Shi: [Fight.]

He dodged the lasers and sprinted straight toward the AI. To 01: Switch to twin sidearms.

01: [Yes.]

The five front AI detected his approach and swung dual emitters on him, firing at once.

Rong Shi sprang off the wall, leveled both guns left and right, and drove air rounds precisely into each emitter.

He flipped, and the instant his feet found the ceiling, claws extended from the armor at his insteps, stabbing into the wall for a locked hang.

Lasers slashed through where he’d stood. Inverted, he shot the remaining three AI.

The five toppled and crashed; more surged forward to replace them.

Rong Shi dropped, swept a long leg across an AI just as it was about to fire, twisting its aim—its beam raked into the cluster, chain-detonating every unit in its path.

Behind him, Song Yu slid through the lattice of beams, efficiently picking off stragglers.

A virtual sight and data windows sprang into Song Yu’s view; he shut them off for blocking his vision and went pure hand-eye: one shot per unit, 100% accuracy.

In minutes, the corridor floor was littered with wrecked AI and scattered parts.

Poseidon: …

Poseidon: [Threat level rising. Doubling AI. Enabling dual-laser mode.]

The system’s voice rang in their ears. Rong Shi listened, eyes darkening.

01: [Little bro is resisting with all his might—need ten minutes.]

As promised, more AI stacked at both ends—and now each unit opened a second muzzle.

The corridor was narrow; once beam density peaked, there would be nowhere to dodge.

Two air rounds launched and downed two units. Rong Shi sprinted, vaulted, and drove a knee into an AI’s shell.

Its shot went wide; a low-compression air round nailed its emitter barrel.

The beam slashed an AI line, and under the force of the air round, swept sideways through the corridor, wiping out a swath of the rear ranks.

Not far behind, Song Yu booted the nearest AI into another; both, unable to cease fire in time, punched holes through each other.

Soon, the AI were a wrecked mess—no longer a threat.

Poseidon: […]

Poseidon: [Doubling AI. Enabling tri-laser mode.]

Before they’d finished the last wave, a new mass rolled in.

How long would this relay-style grind last?

Song Yu’s patience snapped. Temper flaring, his sidearm morphed into a laser cannon.

As the AI bunched, he slipped the beams, leveled the tube—

A beam several times thicker thundered out—AI armor crumbled like bean curd into shrapnel.

Song Yu snorted: Now that’s the proper way.

Rong Shi glanced back mid-fight: It’s fast, but—

Poseidon: [Initiating A-grade emergency protocol.]

Song Yu had just risen when the floor started to quake and metal walls shot up around him.

He reacted instantly—kicking off the wall to leap clear—but a transparent dome appeared overhead, slamming down to cap him in.

“Damn it!” He hammered the shell with the cannon, and realized fast—his prison wasn’t the only one.

The entire space was a Rubik’s cube—sliced into movable blocks. The corridor, the row of rooms—everything could shift.

Rong Shi’s eyes narrowed. He finished the nearby AI and sprinted for Song Yu—

But the passage had been diced into mosaic squares—no way through.

Exactly as he’d suspected.

The system here resembled the one he’d face years later: a crisis scoring model—greater threat, tougher countermeasures.

Metal walls rose around Rong Shi too. He kicked an intruding AI aside and held position, watching.

Song Yu’s voice came through via 01/00’s link.

Song Yu: [Went big. Now what, gege?]

He asked it—but the tone was all confidence, no fear.

Rong Shi looked up at the closing metal louvers.

In the dim light, countless metal blocks crawled overhead.

In the base’s master control room, the operator nodded off before the screens, waiting for the 6 a.m. shift change.

An ear-splitting alarm shredded the quiet. He jerked upright, half his soul gone with fright.

He slapped a string of keys on reflex. “Breach! All hands!”

After alerting, he stared at the monitors.

The system auto-magnified the flagged zones—but the more he looked, the less he understood.

What the hell?! Are the AI malfunctioning? Why are they slaughtering each other?

Where’s the breach? Where are the intruders?!

Not five minutes later, the door burst open and a cluster of white-coated staff rushed in.

“What happened?!” The leading omega braced both hands on the console, glowering at the feeds.

The operator pointed, stammering, “All AI deployed, there must be a breach—but we… we can’t find the intruders.”

“Can’t find them?!” The omega frowned, eyes sweeping the wall. Others crowded in to look.

“False alarm?” one beta ventured.

Since construction, the base had never had an incident. The alarms screamed, sure—but there was no one on screen.

“Definitely false,” another beta said. “We’re buried and shielded, with top-tier gate surveillance. No man or mutant is slipping in.”

The base sat on a level‑4 danger star; anti-scan ringed the island; level‑4 mutants swarmed ashore. Even patrols went all-out, much less outsiders.

Who could break every layer silently and stroll in?

“System aging? Force a restore. The losses from this ‘boom’ will be huge.”

“And it tripped the top defense tier. We’re dead meat—how long to clean this up? The lab team will be whining for days.”

“Old Three—use your creds to open the backend. You know how to submit a forced restore, right?”

“I do.” The beta called Old Three felt patronized and a stab of annoyance.

If he wasn’t razor sharp, it wasn’t his fault—this base’s security was so high none of the training ever actually got used.

Underwater, Rong Shi and Song Yu were locked in separate mobile rooms.

After a few minutes, the rooms stopped. Both men tensed.

Ceiling panels irised open; Rong Shi rolled to a corner—

A converged laser barrage smacked his last position.

He glanced up. The room above was packed with AI.

Space was tight—nowhere to dodge.

His wrist flicked; his sidearm unfolded into a forearm-length combat knife.

In the master control room, Old Three sat, pulled up the system backend, scanned his iris, and submitted the forced-restore request.

“Wait.” The lead omega, eyes glued to a feed, snapped, “Something’s off.”

The others stared at the magnified sector—each sucking in a breath.

“Holy—AI shells… cracking on their own?!”

“Did I not wake up?! Why does none of this compute?”

“Under a minute—eight units blown. Unless they picked today to go rogue and mass-suicide—what else explains it?!”

“Someone hacked our AI to fight each other?”

“Impossible!” the omega said coldly. “Even the military doesn’t have a system this advanced. Who could crack it?!”

Even they couldn’t fully map it—how could anyone else? And do it silent?

“Look here!” someone yelled.

They all swung around.

A water-filled chamber detonated without warning.

Song Yu had been waiting to shoot—but nothing came. The hatch opened—and a wall of seawater slammed in.

00: [Underwater mode engaged. You may breathe normally—no need to hold your breath.]

He relaxed and inhaled. He could breathe.

Watching the hatch seal after the flood, he understood the tactic.

Isolate and overwhelm—lower risk, lower cost.

High-damage weapons wreck too much. If you let two intruders rampage, the whole wing could be destroyed.

Here, segmented like this, even catastrophic damage stays local.

Rong Shi: [Xiao Yu.]

Hearing him, Song Yu steadied—and, assuming worry, reassured: [With little bro here, I’m fine.]

In the other room, Rong Shi finished the remaining AI and sheathed the blade.

Rong Shi: Feel like playing?

Song Yu blinked—then grinned: Been pent up so long—I’ve been dying to go wild.

The room started to move again; Rong Shi’s face went cool.

Rong Shi: [In here—raise hell however you like.]