"Stay here... don't move."
Ben said in a tense tone, then rushed out of the hall. His experience told him that this sudden outage was no ordinary malfunction. The fading hissing sound meant only one thing: someone had tampered with the fuel valve on the main boiler and stopped the steam flow.
The factory plunged into heavy, pitch darkness, as did the hall where they sat.
Silas and Elyra had received their weapons just moments before the blackout, a mistake Ben would soon regret.
Silas pressed a button on his cane, emitting a faint white beam, barely enough to reveal a small area around them. He approached Elyra cautiously, taking advantage of the absence of guards.
"Elyra..." Silas whispered, his voice full of pleading. "Please listen to me and trust me just this once. We have to leave this place quickly. I know you don't remember anything, and everything seems confused, but I am on your side. These people are not our friends, and I don't know what they intend to do with us."
Elyra stood alert, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword, White Fang, tightly. In this state, with her mind a blank page void of memories, her only instinct was survival, and she trusted no one... not even herself.
She shot him a sharp look and said coldly,
"You say this now? After you spouted that nonsense and mocked me in front of them? Get away from me."
She pushed his shoulder with her free hand, then raised the sword to his face, its blade gleaming under the dim light.
"Hand me that glowing stick immediately... and get out of my face. I'm leaving alone, and if you follow me, I'll consider you an enemy."
Silas took a step back but didn't give up.
"Elyra, please... you can't survive alone in this maze. We've been together for a long time. We fought together. Trust me just until we reach the ship. Then, I promise you will remember everything."
He said it, and despite his confident tone, his heart was wrung with doubt. He wasn't sure if The Anchor Log would work this time. The gas she had inhaled was different. The damage might be permanent. But he had no choice but to cling to hope.
"I said hand me the cane!"
Elyra shouted, indifferent to his words, which sounded to her like the rambling of a madman trying to deceive her. She reached out and snatched the cane from his hand with force, then turned and headed for the door, leaving him in the dark.
"I finally found you!"
A familiar mechanical voice echoed from a dark corner near the ceiling.
"Do you have any idea how hard it was to find you in this creepy place? The smell of oil messes with my sensors!"
Elyra quickly aimed the cane's light toward the corner.
The beam revealed a small creature leaping gracefully from atop a metal cabinet, landing on the table amid scattered food scraps.
Elyra recoiled in disgust.
"What is that thing?"
"Poggles!"
Silas exclaimed with joy, stepping closer to look into the blue glass eyes shining in the darkness.
"Why are you here? Where is the ship?"
Poggles adjusted his metal tail proudly.
"Don't worry, sir. The Floating Whisper is safe. She's sailing the sea now, far beyond their filthy reach."
He glanced at the scattered plates.
"So... what are you doing here? I see you were invited to a fancy feast. Did I ruin your dinner by sabotaging the main steam pipe?"
Silas smiled and patted the small metal head.
"Was that you? You did a great job, my friend. I hoped you'd escape with the ship if things went wrong. I never expected you to risk coming back to save us."
Elyra cut in sharply, pointing the tip of the cane at Poggles as if he were an insect.
"Where is the exit, you rusty toy? Guide me. Now."
Poggles looked at Silas, the lenses of his blue eyes narrowing and widening in mechanical confusion. Why was his partner speaking to him like this? They hadn't known each other long, but he thought they were a team.
Silas subtly shook his head, signaling him not to argue. Poggles understood. The situation was fragile.
"Fine... follow me."
Poggles emitted a low mechanical hum. Suddenly, his eyes shifted from blue to a dark, glowing red. Two beams of red light burst forth, scanning the surroundings and revealing every pipe, valve, and shadow with terrifying clarity.
Silas turned toward the corner where the young worker, (333), still stood frozen in confusion.
"What about you? Aren't you coming with us? I know you don't remember anything, but you asked me to help you leave this island. This is the moment."
The young man looked at Silas, then at the open corridor ahead. Something deep inside him, a buried instinct, screamed that staying meant death. He nodded and joined them.
The four moved through the factory corridors, Poggles leading the way as red light washed over the walls and pipes like spilled blood.
After several tense minutes, they reached a wide intersection.
Poggles stopped abruptly and shut off his eye beams.
A few meters ahead, several workers sat on wooden crates, speaking in hushed voices around a single dim candle. They blocked the only exit.
What do we do now? Silas thought. Attack? Too many. Hide? Nowhere to go. They've already noticed us.
He chose diplomacy.
The workers stood, raising heavy wrenches and iron bars.
"What are you doing here?" one shouted. "Go back where you came from! We have strict orders that none of you leave the hall. Don't worry about the outage. Maintenance is already working on it. The factory will be operational again shortly."
He pointed toward the rear corridor.
But Elyra wasn't listening.
"Why did you stop, toy?" she said coldly, jabbing Poggles in the back with her sword.
"Move."
Poggles hesitated, then advanced. Silas and the young man followed.
The workers stepped forward, forming a human wall.
"Ma'am," one warned, "don't force us to use violence. Return quietly until the Supervisor arrives."
Elyra ignored him, walking straight ahead, her eyes locked on the door beyond them, as if they didn't exist at all.
When she tried to pass through, one worker grabbed her shoulder.
"I said stop!"
It was his last mistake.
Elyra didn't think. Her body moved faster than they could react.
She raised her sword and, with a swift, precise motion—
SHING!
The worker's fingers flew into the air, hitting the ground before his mind could register the pain.
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
He collapsed, clutching his severed hand as blood poured out.
"Don't touch me, you trash,"
Elyra said coldly, flicking the blood from her blade.
And in that bloody instant—
CLANK!
Steam thundered through the pipes. Valves slammed open.
Pressure lamps ignited overhead, flooding the intersection with harsh, pale steamlight.
The scene was laid bare: blood pooling on the floor, the worker screaming, Elyra standing with her sword drawn, and Silas frozen in horror at what would come next.
The factory roared back to mechanical life.
And with it, the danger returned—twice as deadly.