The massive steel doors to the maximum-security containment chamber groaned open, slowly parting with a harsh metallic scrape that echoed through the damp corridor.
A hiss of steam burst from vents embedded in the thick walls, swirling in the stale air like ghostly wisps as Claus stepped inside. The cold mist curled around his boots, rising and dissipating under the flickering lights.
His sharp blue eyes narrowed, scanning the chamber. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Found you," he murmured.
At the center of the room sat a strange metal orb, suspended in a web of yellow-and-black caution tape that seemed to twist and coil endlessly. Steel bars formed a cage around it, intersecting in a complex lattice. From the bars, thin beams of pulsating energy stretched out, locking the orb in place with an almost palpable force field.
Claus took a slow step forward, the sound of his boots clicking against the concrete floor the only noise in the oppressive silence.
He approached a dusty control panel off to the side, its surface scratched and worn, the buttons faded from years of neglect.
The entire system looked ancient—forgotten for decades, left to rot beneath the city.
He exhaled, fingers hovering over the controls.
"Are you even still alive, Aiku?" he wondered aloud.
Claus’s human hand hovered over the panel, his mutated claws flexing, the collar sparking as he fought the field’s weight.
He tapped a sequence, the buttons groaning under his touch, their lights flickering weakly.
A low whine built, the energy beams flickering, then dimming, their violet glow fading.
The caution tape slackened, drooping like wilted vines, and the steel bars shuddered, retracting into the floor with a grinding screech.
The orb trembled, its surface dull and pitted, then slowly descended, guided by unseen mechanisms, until it settled into an oval dent in the floor with a heavy thud, dust billowing around it.
Claus stepped closer, his breath hitching, the suppression field still squeezing his chest, making his steps unsteady.
The orb’s surface was cold, etched with faint runes that pulsed once, then died.
His blue eyes scanned it, searching for a seam, a lock, anything.
The chamber’s wards flared briefly, as if protesting, the air growing colder, the silence heavier, broken only by the distant drip of condensation from the catwalks.
He circled the orb, his exosuit’s HUD glitching, showing faint mana signatures within—alive, erratic, dangerous.
Claus’s smirk returned. He slammed his fist against the panel again, entering another code from memory, one Refus had slipped him years ago.
A hiss erupted, steam venting from the orb’s base, and a hairline crack split its surface, glowing faintly green.
The crack widened with a slow, almost reluctant groan, the orb splitting down the middle as its mechanical seams disengaged with sharp hisses and metallic snaps. A thick burst of cryo-steam poured out, flooding the floor in curling tendrils as the interior was revealed.
Inside was a man—half-dressed in faded, torn orange prison garments, his body slumped slightly but bound upright. Thick restraints clasped his wrists and ankles, anchoring him to both the base and ceiling of the pod like a crucified relic.
His hair was long—wild, golden, and matted in places. Despite the years, it still shone with a luster that caught the pale chamber lights.
His gold eyes gleamed with lazy arrogance, exuding a king’s confidence despite the chains binding his wrists.
The suppression field seemed to bend around him, his presence a defiant spark in the chamber’s gloom.
Then, without warning, his lips curved into a grin.
A low, dry chuckle escaped his throat.
"Heh... it seems Lady Luck still hasn’t abandoned me yet. It seems a new Chapter of my story is about to be written," the man said, his voice hoarse but defiant, echoing off the containment chamber walls with a strange warmth.
Claus’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing through them.
He tilted his head, sizing Claus up. "Well, well, it seems a Union rat scurries into my court. Tell me, child, what makes you think you’re worthy to disturb me, the architect of fate?"
Claus straightened, his blue eyes cold as he locked eyes with the chained man. "Aiku Dazar, I’m Claus, Union detective and scientist. I don’t care about your delusions of grandeur. I have come to obtain your aid to save my sister—and Megacity I—from the abyss’s grip. Aethel, the Union director, is compromised, and you’re the only one with the power to stop him."
"...You need my help?" he repeated, savoring the word like it was a fine wine. "Ahh... So this is how fate introduces us. Not with trumpets, but desperation... You know ’obtain’ is a very strong word. One listening might almost think I had no choice in the matter."
Aiku’s grin widened, exposing teeth too perfect for a prisoner so long entombed.
"Tell me, detective... was it the brilliance of your mind that led you here? Or was it fear? Desperation makes even the proudest lions bow, after all. And you know, with the right show of sincerity I might just consider answering you."
Claus didn’t flinch. "Neither. It was logic. You’re a weapon, buried and forgotten because no one could control you. But I don’t need to control you. I just need results, and you’ll be free to do whatever you want. For now, you’re the only asset with the compatibility I need. And considering you’ve been locked in that pod for over a century, I figured you’d be... receptive."
Aiku laughed, deep and amused, as if Claus had just performed a parlor trick. "Ah, delightful! Cold, clinical, confident. Mmm... you talk like you’re placing an order, detective. What am I? A wrench in a toolbox? A virus in a petri dish?" He leaned forward against his restraints as far as they allowed, grinning wide. "Do you even know who I am?"
"I know what you are," Claus replied, his voice cool and precise. "The Fate Gambler. A living hazard. A statistical anomaly. And, if the files are accurate, a man with an ego so inflated it requires its own gravitational field."
Aiku’s grin didn’t falter—if anything, it grew sharper. "Flattery will get you everywhere, detective."
"I wasn’t trying to flatter you."