The skeletal ruins of the city loomed over us, their broken forms clawing at the blood-red sky. The world had long since lost its warmth—nothing remained but jagged silhouettes and hollowed-out buildings, whispering of a past that felt more like a myth than a memory.
Izumi and I had wandered through countless desolate streets, moving from one crumbling wasteland to the next, always searching—always surviving. But nothing could have prepared us for what we found buried beneath the city.
A secret, waiting to be uncovered.
I came to a sudden stop, my glowing eyes narrowing as I caught sight of something unusual. Embedded in a cracked concrete wall was a symbol—faintly illuminated, pulsing softly, almost like a heartbeat. A loop of infinity, glowing with an eerie yet familiar light.
My fingers twitched. My chest ached.
"This symbol…" My voice came out hoarse, as if the words were being dragged from the depths of my mind. I reached out, letting my metal fingertips brush against the cold surface. The moment I touched it, a strange sensation coursed through me—a whisper of recognition, a long-forgotten dream stirring beneath the surface.
Izumi knelt beside me, her glowing eyes scanning the symbol with sharp precision. "Do you recognize it?" she asked, voice steady but laced with curiosity.
I swallowed, nodding slowly. "I… don't know how, but… it feels important. Like I've seen it before."
Her gaze lingered on me, as if searching for answers in my expression. "Do you think it's connected to your past?"
"Maybe." The word felt heavy on my tongue, filled with uncertainty. I clenched my jaw, pushing through the unease. "There's only one way to find out."
Together, we pushed aside the rubble, uncovering something hidden beneath the symbol—a hatch, its surface rusted and worn by time. When we forced it open, a gust of stale air rushed past us, carrying the scent of rust and decay. Below, a spiraling stairwell disappeared into darkness.
I glanced at Izumi. "Ready?"
Her glowing eyes met mine, unwavering. "Always."
With that, we descended.
The deeper we went, the colder it became. The darkness pressed in around us, suffocating and absolute. My synthetic body registered every slight change in temperature, every shift in the air, but it did nothing to shake the feeling settling in my chest—like we were stepping into something we weren't meant to find.
At the bottom, the stairwell opened into a massive underground chamber.
I froze.
Machines—rows upon rows of them—lined the walls, their surfaces coated in layers of dust. They weren't active, yet a faint hum of energy coursed through the air, like an echo of something long dormant.
At the center of the chamber stood a console, its surface flickering with soft, pulsing lights. The moment I stepped closer, the lights brightened, as if sensing my presence.
Izumi kept close, her eyes scanning the room with calculated precision. "What is this place?" she whispered.
I didn't answer. I was already drawn to the console, a force deep inside me pulling me forward. Without thinking, I reached out, my hand hovering over the glowing surface.
Then, suddenly—
A hologram flickered to life.
A man appeared before us, his image slightly distorted, his expression lined with exhaustion and sorrow. His hair was graying, his eyes filled with something fragile—something on the verge of breaking.
"If you're seeing this, then humanity has failed."
The words sent a chill through me.
"My name is Dr. Arata Takahashi," the hologram continued. "And I am the creator of Project Rebirth."
Izumi and I exchanged glances, the weight of unease settling between us, but we stayed silent as the message continued.
"The disappearances began without warning," Dr. Takahashi said, his voice steady despite the grief etched into his features. "People vanishing one by one, as though erased from existence. We couldn't find the cause. No matter how desperately we searched, no matter what we tried… the only solution left was to create you, Daichi."
My breath caught.
I took a step back, my chest tightening. "Me?"
The hologram didn't react. It continued, oblivious.
"You are the culmination of my life's work. I modeled you after my son, Hiro, who was one of the first to disappear. You carry his personality, his essence. You are humanity's last hope."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I staggered, knees threatening to give out. My hands trembled as I clenched them into fists. "I… I'm not even real?" The whisper barely left my lips, but the weight of it crushed me.
Izumi moved without hesitation, dropping to one knee beside me. She grabbed my hand, her grip firm—steady. "You're as real as anyone I've ever known," she said, her voice fierce, unwavering. "Don't let anyone—don't let him—tell you otherwise."
I stared at her, the burning ache in my chest growing unbearable.
But I couldn't look away from the hologram.
"The key to reversing this lies within you," Dr. Takahashi's image continued. "The missing piece in your chest—it is the catalyst. But be warned: using it will come at a great cost. Time will rewind, but you will not be part of the new timeline."
My hands shook as I unconsciously touched the hollow cavity in my chest. The emptiness I had always felt… this was why.
I turned to Izumi, my voice breaking. "If I do this… you'll be alone."
Tears welled in her glowing eyes, trailing down her cheeks as she tightened her grip on my hand. "I'd rather be alone in a world that can be saved than together in one that's lost," she whispered.
The weight of her words settled deep inside me.
The chamber felt colder. The hum of the machines louder. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions.
Then—
"If you are ready, use this key and place it in your chest," the hologram instructed. "Time should rewind shortly after that."
A small pedestal rose from the console's surface. And there, resting at its center, was a key.
A sphere, etched with unknown markings, glowing with a strange, ethereal light.
As I picked it up, a distorted, hysterical noise filled the air. The world around me felt… unstable, like the very fabric of reality was shifting.
I swallowed, staring at the key in my hands.
Would this truly restore what had been lost?
Or would it erase everything I had become?