Chapter 11

Location: Old Tunnels, Near Arbatskaya

Date: March 13, 2032

Time: 10:15

Entry 11

I should feel relieved. I should feel something. But all I feel is… nothing.

The dark force is gone. Or at least it feels like it's gone. The thing that's been following me, tormenting me, is no longer there, no longer whispering in my head, no longer breathing down my neck. The silence is heavy, almost suffocating, but it's a different kind of silence. A kind I haven't felt since Kurskaya. And yet… I don't trust it.

I keep walking, the tunnel stretching out ahead of me like a long, winding path into oblivion. The walls feel closer now, like they're closing in, but I can't tell if that's just my mind playing tricks on me or if it's something real. After what I've been through, it's hard to tell the difference anymore.

I don't know where I'm going. I don't have a destination in mind, just the need to keep moving, to stay ahead of whatever might still be out there. I've been walking for what feels like hours, my legs heavy with exhaustion, but I can't stop. Not yet.

The thing is gone. I should be safe now. But I don't feel safe.

The whispers, the glowing eyes, the dark force that marked me—it's all still there, lurking at the edges of my mind, like a shadow that refuses to fade. Even though I can't hear the voices anymore, I can feel them. A presence. Waiting. Watching. It's not over. I know it's not over.

I was marked.

I keep coming back to that. Those words, spoken by the thing in the tunnel, etched into my thoughts like a scar that won't heal. Marked for what? Why me? Why did it let me live when it killed everyone else at Kurskaya? There's no answer, no explanation. Just the weight of those words, hanging over me like a curse.

I stop for a moment, leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath. My chest aches, my muscles burn, but I push through it. I have to keep moving. I can't stay in one place for too long. Not when I don't know what's still out there.

The tunnel is darker here, the lights long since dead, leaving only the weak beam of my flashlight to cut through the gloom. It flickers, struggling to stay on, and I curse under my breath. The battery is almost out. I don't have a spare. I should've brought more supplies, but I wasn't thinking clearly when I left Arbatskaya. I was just running.

Always running.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and keep walking. The tunnel is narrow, the walls damp with moisture seeping in from the surface, and the air is thick with the smell of mildew and decay. The further I go, the worse the stench gets, like something rotting deep within the Metro's bowels. But I push through it, one step at a time.

My mind drifts back to Kurskaya. To the bodies. To the blood. To the thing that hunted me. I still don't understand what happened. I still don't know why I'm alive. But I know that something deeper is at play here. Something older than the bombs, older than the Metro itself.

The old man's words come back to me.

"There are things beneath the Metro. Things older than us."

I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was just another crazed survivor, lost in the darkness like so many others. But now, after everything I've seen, I'm not so sure. Maybe he was right. Maybe there is something down here. Something we don't understand. Something we can't fight.

I don't want to think about it anymore.

I push the thoughts aside, focusing on the tunnel ahead. The ground is uneven here, littered with debris from cave-ins and collapsed walls. I have to watch my step, but my flashlight is fading fast, and soon I won't be able to see at all.

I need to find shelter. Somewhere safe. If there is such a thing down here.

The tunnel curves to the right, leading into a wider chamber—an old maintenance station, abandoned long ago. The walls are cracked, the ceiling partially collapsed, and the air is heavy with dust. But it's empty. No signs of life. No signs of danger.

I can rest here. At least for a little while.

I sit down on the floor, my back against the wall, and close my eyes. My body screams for sleep, for rest, but my mind won't let me. Every time I try to drift off, I see it. The thing from Kurskaya. The dark force that marked me. It's always there, just beyond the edge of my thoughts, waiting for me to let my guard down.

I open my eyes again, staring into the darkness, and let out a slow breath. I can't sleep. Not yet. I don't trust the silence. I don't trust anything anymore.

You were always marked.

The words echo in my head, softer now, like a whisper carried on the wind. I try to push them away, but they cling to me, wrapping around my thoughts like vines, pulling me deeper into the dark. I don't know what they mean. I don't know what any of this means. But I know one thing: it's not over.

I reach for my revolver, checking the cylinder. Four bullets left. It feels heavier now, like the weight of it is sinking into my bones. I don't know if I'll need it again. I don't know if it will make a difference. But it's the only thing I have left. The only thing I can rely on.

The Metro is a graveyard. A tomb for the living. And I've been walking through it for too long.

I sit there, staring into the darkness, my mind racing with thoughts I can't control, with fears I can't shake. I thought I'd won. I thought I'd beaten it. But now, sitting here in the silence, I realize that the real battle hasn't even started yet.

I stand, my legs unsteady, and start walking again. I don't know where I'm going, but I can't stay here. I can't stay in one place for too long. The thing might be gone for now, but it's still out there. Waiting. Watching.

It's not over.

I make my way through the maintenance station, my footsteps echoing through the empty chamber. The air is cold, the walls damp, and the ceiling looks like it could collapse at any moment. But I keep going, my revolver in hand, my eyes scanning the shadows.

The dark isn't as heavy here, but it's still there. Always there. I can feel it, lurking just beyond the edge of my vision, like it's waiting for the right moment to strike again. I can't let it. I won't let it.

You were always marked.

The words echo in my head one last time before fading into the background, replaced by the sound of my footsteps, by the faint drip of water from somewhere deep within the tunnels. I don't know what's coming next. I don't know if I'll survive it. But I keep walking.

There's no other choice.