Perhaps it looked like a giant halogen lamp—the kind of old-fashioned lamp that only eccentric old men who love antiques still keep around.
Some say it was as big as a building, round like a flying saucer.
But here, where people are born in darkness and die beneath layers of cold concrete, the sun is nothing but a distant concept.
Crimeria has no sky.
Replacing it are millions of flickering fluorescent lights, suspended from rusted metal domed ceilings, connected by a network of cables like an old spider web.
This city never sleeps, never stops functioning, and never sees the light of day.
The same goes for its inhabitants.
A train had just stopped at platform 47 on the 9th floor.
The final stop accessible to ordinary citizens of Crimeria.
In the old, murky yellow light, the hiss of compressed air, a stream of people poured out like insects—hurried, cold, disappearing into narrow alleys leading deep into the heart of the city.
In a dark corner between rusted buildings, silent as if detached from everything, in an empty alley, an old man puffing on a cigarette stood before a crumbling concrete wall.
The light did not reach this area.
His shadow—long and faint—fell upon the cracked wall behind him, like a stain that could not be washed away.
His white blouse was worn, his metal-rimmed glasses rusted, and his face was aged.
He took a deep drag, and the hazy smoke continued to billow out.
In his hands was an old control panel—denting, oil-stained, and… opening a military-grade lock interface.
[ACTIVATION CODE REQUIRED: TOP SECRET LEVEL / LEVEL Z]
[IDENTITY VERIFICATION: JOHN R. / ZETA RESEARCH CENTER – REJECTED]
"...Yeah, same as always." – His voice was hoarse, faint like an old breath.
The old man showed no surprise.
He silently pulled a cable from the back of his neck and plugged it directly into the auxiliary data port.
Immediately afterward, countless lines of code and data could be seen continuously running across John's eyes, reflected in the blue light on his glasses.
A moment later, the screen flickered off. A new line of text appeared:
[EXCEPTIONAL AUTHENTICATION CODE / PRIORITY LEGACY / APPROVED]
[UNLOCK SHORTCUT TO LEVEL 13 – THE SILENT SANCTUARY]
A click sounded.
The concrete wall trembled, then slowly cracked open in the middle.
A hidden door appeared, leading down into the depths... and cold enough to feel like inhaling ice.
John checked his coat pocket again – inside were two things: a transparent purple crystal and an old, faded photo, almost impossible to make out, laminated in plastic.
The photo showed a young teenager wearing metal-rimmed glasses and an older man—long-bearded, with eyes as sharp as lightning.
John’s eyes couldn’t help but betray a look of nostalgia.
Though three hundred years had passed.
Though the world had changed.
Though he had been forgotten by the world.
But John has not.
Never.
The old cigarette was finished, so John lit another one and took a deep drag.
"It's time," he murmurs, then takes a step forward.
Behind him, an alert immediately went out over Crimeria's internal network.
[UNUSUAL MOVEMENT DETECTED ON FLOOR 13 – EMERGENCY LEVEL S]
[EMERGENCY ALERT: SEALING SYSTEM BREACHED]
[ACTIVATE RAPID RESPONSE FORCE – CALL IN ZETA SPECIAL TASK FORCE]
But before the forces could depart, before the alarm could sound, John vanished into the darkness—deeper and deeper.
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To a place where the living dare not tread.
To a place where the dead await awakening.
Level 13 - The Silent Sanctuary
The farthest reaches of Crimeria.
A place that doesn't exist on official maps.
A place where all data was erased from the system after the "Floor Destruction Incident" many years ago.
The shortcut to the 13th floor is a narrow, gloomy tunnel, cold enough to numb your feet.
John had more options to reach the 13th floor.
He could take the official route, slowly passing through the layers to reach the 13th layer.
Or find someone to smuggle him directly to the main gate of Level 13.
However, traveling from the 9th floor through the chaotic 10th, 11th, and 12th floors without being detected was nearly impossible.
Not to mention that only someone seeking death would dare to enter the Silent Sanctuary through the main gate.
Thinking of this, John couldn't help but shudder.
Therefore, the old man had no choice but to walk through that old, dilapidated, cursed tunnel.
As he walked, John thought deeply, taking each step slowly.
The ceiling of the tunnel was covered in tangled, rotting cables, twisted together like the roots of a dried-up tree.
Some sections still leaked electricity, sparking and crackling, casting a purple light like congealed blood beneath the skin.
The light from John's eyes flashed across the damp walls, covered in gray mold.
There, something that shouldn't be present:
"The god is dead—and will return to incinerate humanity."
The lines of dried black blood were written in a shaky, reverent, mad scrawl.
John snorted.
“Heretics...”
At the end of the tunnel was an extremely sturdy metal door.
John pulled out the old control panel and continued his operations.
Before long, the door automatically opened, leading into a circular room.
At the center—a massive capsule.
Half biological, half mechanical in design.
Encased in dozens of nutrient-infusion tubes, plasma locks, and black magic circles etched with blood.
Inside lay the body of a man, naked with disheveled hair and beard, his entire body gray and charred, his eyes tightly closed, his chest hollowed out—the fatal wound from the day he fell in the final battle.
But...
The body did not decompose.
It seemed to be sleeping.
Waiting.
“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.” John whispered, his trembling hands plugging the data cable into the control panel.
A screen lit up. The outdated system interface flickered.
████████████████████████
│ OBSERVER-IX SYSTEM │
│ LEVEL Z EXISTENCE LOCKED │
│ STATUS: "DEATH – SEALED" │
│ ██ WARNING ██ │
│ SOUL STABILITY: 3% │
│ BODY DECAY: 0% │
│ BLACK MAGIC LINKAGE: STABLE │
████████████████████████
> UNLOCK RESURRECTION PROTOCOL? [Y/N]
John didn't hesitate.
Press Y.
A series of mechanisms began to activate.
The liquid in the chamber gradually changed color.
From pale blue to purple, then turning a blood-red hue.
The entire floor began to vibrate slightly.
A rumbling sound echoes from deep within the earth.
John pulls a transparent purple crystal from his pocket—its surface engraved with an ancient, mysterious script.
He begins to read—not in the language of the present, but in an ancient, long-forgotten tongue.
“O God of life and death…”
"From the endless realm of eternity…"
“A small flame in the void…”
"Reborn from the ashes."
The purple crystal from John's palm flew up, piercing through the thick capsule glass and settling into the hole in the man's chest.
At the same time, the black magic circle around it began to activate automatically.
Even to the naked eye, the corpse began to transform.
The burns on the skin gradually healed.
From the purple crystal, countless tiny threads began to form, gradually filling the hole in the chest.
Unexpectedly, the aged face inside the capsule gradually grew younger.
From the gaunt appearance of a man over 70 years old, the man inside the capsule transformed into a young man in his early 20s.
Even John couldn't believe his eyes.
He trembled.
300 years of searching and waiting.
Finally, he succeeded.
Success beyond his wildest expectations.
But soon after, John began to feel something was off.
After rejuvenating, the man's hair not only failed to turn black again but transformed from salt-and-pepper to pure platinum blonde.
His skin didn't regain its healthy glow but remained pale and lifeless like a corpse.
His nails gradually turned black and grew long and sharp.
This was precisely the process of Zombie-ization unfolding!
A fleeting hint of hesitation flashed in John's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resolve.
“300 years, 300 years of preparation.”
“You old bastard, don’t you dare become a mindless zombie in front of me.”
"I don't want to have to kill you and then go through the trouble of reviving you again."
John cursed silently in his mind, but his mouth continued to recite the spell.
“Come on! Wake up for me!!!”
As soon as the spell ended, John shouted, his hands moving continuously.
A blinding light erupted—sparks flew wildly around the room.
The black magic symbols glowed with an eerie purple light, spinning and enveloping the capsule chamber.
It seemed the resurrection process was about to succeed.
However, at this critical moment, an alarm sounded.
[WARNING: SUBJECT Z-69 HAS DETECTED LIFE]
[WARNING: ACTIVATE FULL LOCKDOWN ON FLOOR 13]
[WARNING: FLOOR 13 HAS ACTIVATED DEADZONE MODE]
Despite the incessant alarms, John's focus remained fixed on one thing.
He was waiting for a miracle.
However, just a few seconds later, the laboratory door opened.
The Zeta Special Forces, one of Crimeria's most elite military units, had arrived and surrounded the entire room.
They were fully armed, and all their guns were pointed at one person: John.
Faced with this situation, John could only laugh bitterly.
He turned his face.
He raised both hands into the air, palms open.
"You've got me."
"I surrender."
“Reporting to headquarters: Team Zeta 01 has successfully surrounded the unauthorized intruder. He is alone.”
“Request next orders.”
As the Zeta 01 team leader finished speaking, there was sudden movement in the capsule opposite them.
Inside the capsule, the body—no, now it should be called the young man—began to convulse.
His limbs twitched repeatedly.
His muscles kept contracting and relaxing.
Suddenly—he opened his eyes.
His emerald-green eyes blazed like lightning in the night.
No pupils.
No soul.
“G–G–GRAAAAAAAH!!”
He screamed, shattering the capsule's glass.
Lightning erupted across his body.
Fluid spilled onto the floor, sizzling and smoking.
The young man sprang up, then collapsed onto the floor of the room.
Completely naked, grayish, his skin and flesh covered in crisscrossing burn marks.
The scorch marks, visible to the naked eye, were quickly healing.
On his chest, the large hole was now replaced by a purple crystal embedded there, with blood vessels radiating out around it like a spider web.
He breathed—as if he had never inhaled air before in his life.
Then he lifted his head and looked ahead.
He looked toward John.
He looked toward the Zeta special forces team.
He said nothing.
He didn't scream.
He just looked.
That gaze—not human.
But not entirely that of a monster either.
John turned his head to look at the newly resurrected figure, who gave a faint smile—though his breath trembled with fear.
“You old bastard… Welcome back.”