Chapter 1
The sterile hum of machinery filled the underground laboratory, a persistent drone that seemed to press against the minds of the researchers. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead as they moved from one workstation to another, their faces pallid and drawn from long hours of relentless experimentation. Vials of iridescent liquids bubbled in glass containers, while rows of monitors displayed lines of complex data—patterns too intricate to comprehend at a glance.
Dr. Katsuro, the lead researcher, adjusted his glasses and squinted at the digital readout in front of him. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he entered the latest data. Years of work had led them to this point, but the weight of impending disaster hung heavy in the air. They were pushing boundaries that perhaps should never have been tested.
"Everything looks stable," murmured one of the junior researchers, glancing nervously at Dr. Katsuro. "But the readings… they're spiking. We need more time to understand what's happening."
"Time's a luxury we no longer possess," Katsuro replied, his voice taut with urgency. "The higher-ups are already pushing for results. If we can't deliver, we'll be shut down. They'll want answers—and they won't care about our excuses."
Another loud bang at the lab's entrance interrupted him. The heavy steel doors shuddered violently. The researchers exchanged anxious glances. The shouts and frantic noises from the corridor beyond grew louder, a foreboding sign of imminent danger.
"They're here," one of the researchers whispered, his voice trembling.
Before anyone could react, the doors burst open with a resounding crash. A squad of heavily armed soldiers stormed in, their faces obscured by dark masks, their uniforms devoid of any identifying insignia. They moved with ruthless efficiency, opening fire without hesitation.
The lab erupted into chaos. Researchers screamed and scrambled for cover as bullets tore through computer screens and shattered glass equipment. Papers flew into the air, and the once-orderly lab became a scene of destruction. One researcher fell, blood spreading across the floor.
Dr. Katsuro ducked behind a large console, his heart racing. The soldiers moved methodically, clearing the room with cold precision. It was clear they weren't there to take prisoners. Whatever the higher-ups feared was happening, they had decided to bury it—along with everyone who knew.
But there was one thing they hadn't accounted for.
Katsuro reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote device with a single red button. His hands shook as he held it, the gravity of his next action weighing heavily on him. He hesitated for only a moment before slamming his thumb down on the button.
A high-pitched whine filled the room as a series of signals shot out from the lab. They were transmitted to an unknown location, far beyond this facility, to those who had been waiting for this moment. Somewhere, something had just been activated.
The soldiers continued their rampage. Within minutes, the lab fell silent once more, the floor littered with shattered equipment and lifeless bodies. The red button's glow faded, but the signal had already been sent.
---
Thousands of miles away, Tokyo's streets buzzed with the usual rhythm of life. Cars honked in the distance, and neon signs flashed in the evening light, painting the crowded sidewalks in vibrant hues. In a quieter neighborhood, Alex leaned against a wooden railing, his gaze drifting over the cityscape.
His younger sister, Nia, stood beside him, studying a small poster pinned to a nearby wall. It advertised an international research opportunity—volunteers needed for a unique, secretive project. The poster offered no details, only promises of compensation and the allure of adventure.
"You're really considering this?" Nia asked, her voice laced with concern.
Alex shrugged, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Why not? It could be a great experience. Plus, it's just some research, right?"
Nia's frown deepened. "In Mongolia? That place is isolated. And why the secrecy? What kind of research needs to be kept so hidden?"
Alex turned to face her, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'll be fine. It's only for a few months, and then I'll be back. You know I wouldn't leave you if I wasn't sure it was safe."
Nia searched his face for a moment before sighing. "You better keep that promise, Alex. This feels… off."
He chuckled softly, ruffling her hair. "I will. I promise."
---
The transition from Tokyo's bustling streets to Mongolia's vast, empty wilderness was jarring. The sky stretched out endlessly, the land beneath it seemingly untouched by time. When the research team dropped Alex off, there was no grand facility, no lab awaiting him—only a small, wooden house standing solitary against the wind.
"This is where you'll be staying," the man from the research team had said, handing Alex a set of keys. "It's outfitted with everything you need. Water, supplies for two months, seeds to plant, and a basic survival manual. There's a rifle inside—just in case. The cameras around the house will monitor your progress."
Alex had nodded, though a sense of unease lingered. He watched the team leave, their helicopter disappearing into the horizon, leaving him truly alone for the first time in his life.
He stood in front of the house, surveying his new home. The structure looked sturdy, built to withstand the elements, with reinforced walls and a solid roof. Inside, it was sparsely furnished—just a bed, a table, and a small stove. A stack of water bottles stood in one corner, alongside bags of seeds and a well-worn book titled Basic Skills for Survival.
Alex set his backpack down and walked outside, rifle slung over his shoulder. He scanned the horizon—nothing but empty plains and the occasional gust of wind. Cameras were positioned at various points around the house, their lenses tracking his movements.
He had volunteered for this, thinking it was an adventure. But now, standing here in the desolate expanse of Mongolia, a strange unease settled in his gut.