Chapter 24: Blood of the Past

Nathan's body ached, his vision swimming in the dim aftershock of the relic's destruction. The weight that had bound him since the moment he stepped into the factory had lessened, but it was not gone. It clung to the edges of his thoughts, whispering reminders of what had been and what was still yet to come.

The relic was gone, shattered into dust, but its power had left a scar. His fingers tingled with the remnants of energy, something old and knowing curling beneath his skin. He was different now. The factory had marked him in ways he didn't yet understand.

The silence that followed was heavier than any scream. The walls of the chamber no longer pulsed, no longer breathed. The ever-present whispers had faded, leaving behind an emptiness that was almost worse. The factory was waiting, watching, deciding what to do with him now that he had broken the cycle.

Nathan forced himself to his feet. The air smelled of metal and decay, but beneath it was something new—a scent he hadn't noticed before.

Blood.

He turned, his stomach twisting. The ground beneath him was stained dark, fresh pools of crimson seeping through the cracks of the factory floor. The blood was not his.

It was theirs.

Figures began to emerge from the shadows—pale, lifeless, their hollow eyes staring. The remnants of the past, the echoes of those who had come before him. They stood silently, their expressions frozen between sorrow and rage.

Nathan's breath hitched.

"I set you free," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

A woman stepped forward, her face gaunt, her skin gray with the weight of the years spent trapped. "No," she said, her voice barely more than a breath. "You took their place."

The factory groaned around him, shifting. The walls trembled, and for the first time, Nathan understood.

This was never about escaping.

It had always been about replacing.

The cycle had not been broken—it had been rewritten. And Nathan was now its beating heart.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, I won't let this happen."

The figures remained still, watching. The blood on the floor pulsed, spreading outward in jagged veins. The factory was reshaping itself around him, sinking its teeth into him, binding him to its will.

Nathan clenched his fists, the energy of the relic still humming beneath his skin. He refused to let it end like this. If the cycle couldn't be broken, he would tear it apart himself.

The factory let out a guttural, shuddering breath. The walls groaned as if alive, as if resisting him.

But Nathan wasn't afraid anymore.

With one final, defiant step forward, he reached out—not to run, not to escape, but to fight.

And the factory screamed.