Chapter 6: DEAD ZONE EAST

Zair stood frozen, eyes locked on Aya’s pale face.
Her breathing was shallow.
The wires wrapped around her head pulsed slowly blue, then red.
The machine had accepted her.
But would it give her back?

The boy clenched his fists.
“I'll go in after her.”

One of the masked men grabbed his shoulder.
“You’re too young. The device won’t bind with your system. It needs full neural maturity.”

“I don’t care,” the boy snapped.
“She saved my life!”

Zair pulled him aside.
“This isn’t a place for bravery. It’s a place for loss.”
His voice was low. Strained.
“There are ways to wake her… but every path here costs something.”

The taller masked man stepped forward.
“There is another way. But it’s not for children.”

“What way?” Zair asked.

They turned down a hallway darker than the rest.
The walls dripped condensation.
Symbols were etched into the stone.
Symbols from before the First Grid War.

They stopped before a heavy, rusted vault door.
The masked man tapped it twice, then once.
It creaked open, groaning like something alive.

Inside was a metal chair bolted to the floor.
Cables dangled from above.
Screens flickered, showing broken code.

“This is the Trade Seat,” the masked man whispered.
“Here… one life can be exchanged for another.”

Zair narrowed his eyes.
“You mean a sacrifice?”

“No,” the man answered.
“Something worse. You give up your truth your memory, your identity and she may wake.
But if you’re rejected… both of you disappear.”

The boy stepped toward it.
But Zair held him back again.
“No. If anyone does this… it’s me.”

Before he could sit, the lights shut off.
The walls buzzed.
A humming tone echoed through the underground.

The Spiral Door.
It was unlocking.

The masked men drew their weapons.
“We’ve been tracked,” one whispered.

A voice boomed from the hall:
“Hand over the girl and the boy. The map is no longer yours.”

Then a black cylinder flew through the doorway stuck to the ceiling.
Boom.
The explosion sent them flying.
Smoke poured in like floodwater.

In the chaos, Zair grabbed Aya.
The boy followed.
They escaped down the back tunnels.

From the smoke emerged polished black boots.
Seven men.
No names.
No faces.
Each holding a glowing red card.

Their leader, tall and cloaked in metal armor, spoke:

“The Final Weapon is awake. Dead Zone East is ours.”

He stepped toward the broken Trade Seat, then crushed it under his boot.

The past had ended.
Now began the war of memory, betrayal, and blood.

To be continued...