Vargas and Beirut moved quietly through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the dim silence. The entire station was eerily quiet, not even the usual hum of ventilation or machinery breaking the stillness. They carried portable aera sensors, specialized tools for detecting magic residue, and held them at the ready. As they advanced, the lights flickered intermittently, casting long, unnatural shadows across the walls.
"This place feels like it's been hollowed out," Vargas muttered, scanning the hallway with narrowed eyes. "Even the machines are off. That's not standard procedure for a station like this."
Beirut nodded. "The staff powered down everything following the deaths, hoping it was a system failure that triggered the incident. They didn't want any...further accidents."
They pressed on, moving through deserted corridors and vacant workstations, each step sinking them deeper into the unsettling silence. They reached the central research wing, where stacks of equipment stood abandoned on counters, their once-blinking lights now dim. The aera sensors emitted only a faint hum, with no immediate magical readings. But the deeper they went, the more Vargas's instincts tingled.
Finally, they arrived at a lab on the far side of the wing. The door, marked with faded symbols denoting "restricted access," looked like it hadn't been opened in some time. Vargas held up his hand, gesturing for Beirut to stand back as he examined the locking mechanism. With a soft click, the door unlocked, and they stepped into the room.
Inside, the lab was in complete disarray. Equipment was strewn across the floor, glass beakers lay shattered, and the walls bore dark scorch marks that twisted like tangled roots up toward the ceiling. Yet, even amidst the chaos, the stillness hung heavily.
Vargas adjusted his sensor, dialing it to a more sensitive range. Almost instantly, the device's screen lit up with faint energy readings—the lingering remnants of some untraceable source.
"Sebastian, look at this," he whispered, holding the sensor up to Beirut. "There was some sort of spell cast here, but it's like nothing I've seen before. It's almost as if—"
A sudden thump echoed from the other end of the room, cutting him off. Both men turned, their hands instinctively going to their weapons. But the room remained empty, the silence seeping back in as if the sound had never happened.
"What's your theory?" Beirut asked quietly, his voice a bare murmur in the unsettling calm.
Vargas scanned the room again, his gaze landing on a darkened area where more scorch marks marred the wall. "Some kind of experimental energy? Or maybe a summoned entity that… got out of control?"
The light flickered violently, plunging the room into pitch darkness for a heartbeat before it buzzed back on. But now, the shadows felt denser, more substantial, as if they held weight in the air around them.
Vargas gripped his sensor tightly, following the faint trail of magical energy residue that lingered like a faint trail of smoke, winding deeper into the lab. He paused in front of a console that had a distorted, glitched screen with barely readable lines of data on it. He squinted, trying to make sense of the damaged readout.
"'Initiating null-suppressant protocol,'" he read aloud. His gaze flicked to Beirut. "They were experimenting with anti-magical technology, possibly related to the null pylons."
"Could be… probably trying to weaponize it and make it more efficient".
Vargas nodded slowly, his mind racing. "But why would they conduct these experiments on such a small, isolated station?"
"Easier to keep things under wraps," Beirut replied, scanning the room with a critical gaze. "No one would look for classified projects here."
A loud crash echoed from further down the hallway, breaking their train of thought. Without a word, Vargas and Beirut slipped out of the lab, advancing towards the sound. As they approached, they were met with a gruesome sight—a corridor that opened into a makeshift morgue, lined with rows of robotic bodies. Each one had been discarded, piled in heaps against the walls, as if this were some graveyard for artificial life. Their faces, dented and broken, reflected the cold fluorescent lights above them in a haunting glow.
"What happened here…" Beirut whispered, glancing over the mangled remains.
"It's like they've been piling them here for years," Vargas said, his voice barely audible. The robots' dead, cracked lenses seemed to stare up at them, as if each broken machine had a story to tell. Some appeared to be older models, discarded and rusted, while others looked recently damaged, their metallic limbs twisted and fractured.
Vargas crouched, reaching toward one of the more intact robots. It bore a deep dent in its chest, and wires hung from its neck like a lacerated throat. "Look at this damage. It's like something crushed it from within."
Beirut's gaze flicked from one metallic face to the next. "Could this be the result of whatever they were experimenting with? Some AI integration gone wrong?"
"It's a possibility," Vargas murmured, rising slowly. "Blending nullification tech with AI would definitely be a smart option, could deal with human forces and Awakened."
They stepped back, and Vargas couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if the countless glassy eyes were following them. The silence now felt heavier, more oppressive, like an unseen presence lingered just beyond the edge of sight.
"Let's report this back," Vargas said, swallowing down a sense of unease. "We'll need clearance to investigate further. Whatever went down here, it's bigger than us."
Just as Vargas and Beirut turned to leave the corridor, they froze mid-step, catching sight of a figure standing in the dim shadows of the hallway. At first, it looked like a statue, its stillness so complete that it was easy to overlook in the dim light. But as they got closer, they saw the figure was a man—likely a scientist based on his lab coat, though it was torn and stained in places, and hung loose around his shoulders like it no longer fit.
Vargas's gaze fixed on the man's face. His eyes were wide with a look of pure terror, mouth slightly open as if he had been frozen mid-scream. The most unnerving detail, however, was his eyes. They were completely black, devoid of any iris or white, like two bottomless pits that seemed to drink in the light around them.
Beirut raised his weapon, nodding for Vargas to do the same, while Vargas activated his scanner and held it up, waiting for the readout. The device flickered as it registered a faint, yet steady heartbeat. The man was still alive.
"He's alive," Vargas murmured, casting a cautious glance at Beirut. "But...whatever did this, it left a mark."
Beirut tightened his grip on his weapon, stepping carefully around the man. "Sir, can you hear us?" he called out, keeping his voice low and measured. No reaction came from the scientist, not a flicker of movement, but Vargas noticed his fingers twitch—barely, but enough to suggest some awareness.
"What happened here?" Vargas asked, his voice firm. He took a step closer, studying the haunted expression frozen on the man's face. "Can you tell us what you saw?"
Vargas tightened his grip on the scanner, a sinking feeling crawling up his spine as he watched the man's expression twist into a look of utter desolation. He repeated his question, his voice calm but firm, "Who did this? Who are 'they'?"
The man's hollow, blackened eyes fixed on Vargas, and his lips quivered as he choked out his answer. "We…we failed them. He said…he'd show us true power…but…" The man's voice broke, and he looked almost haunted as he whispered, "They're going to kill us all."
A pulse of tension tightened in Vargas's chest. "Who are you talking about?" he pressed, leaning closer. "Who is 'he'?"
The scientist swallowed hard, blood starting to trickle from the corner of his mouth, as if he was barely holding back a torrent. His gaze grew unfocused, distant, but then his eyes found Vargas's, and his next words were sharp, clear.
"He calls himself… Giolio."
The name hung in the air, almost electric with significance, even though Vargas had never heard it before. The tension in the room sharpened, and just as Vargas opened his mouth to press for more information, his scanner suddenly spiked. Alarming red flashes indicated the man's heart rate had skyrocketed.
Before Vargas could react, the scientist's body seized in a violent cough, blood spraying from his mouth and splattering onto the floor. His breathing became ragged, a guttural choking sound filling the eerie silence of the station as he struggled for breath. And then, with one final gasp, his body went still, collapsing onto the floor in a lifeless heap.
Vargas knelt beside the man, running the scanner over him one last time, but it confirmed what he feared—the scientist was gone. Standing slowly, Vargas's gaze hardened, thoughts racing through his mind. Whoever this Giolio was, he had left a trail of fear and blood in his wake. This wasn't the work of an out-of-control machine or rogue AI; this was something far more sinister, and Vargas could sense that it wasn't just a mere vendetta.
Vargas and Beirut locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. They'd both seen enough magic-related cases to recognize the signs. This was no accident, nor a simple, natural death—it was the work of an Awakened, one who had placed the scientist under an enchantment triggered by uttering his name.
Beirut broke the silence first, his gaze hardening. "Giolio. It's a very good enchantment and was able to kill him instantly. The Awakened is most likely an enchanter".
Vargas nodded, a chill settling in his gut. "If he's been here a while it might be impossible to get him, probably laid all sorts of traps around here."
He looked down at the dead man's lifeless form, feeling a twinge of regret. There had been no saving him—only piecing together what little he left behind.
"We'll have to approach this carefully," Beirut murmured.
"Agreed. We're not leaving here until we've combed every inch of this station," Vargas replied, scanning the silent, dimly-lit halls with a scrutinizing gaze. If Giolio had been here, he might have left more than just fear and death in his wake. Perhaps some residue of Aera or magical signature still lingered, something they could track.