My dearest readers, thank you all so much for sticking with me so far!

MErry Xmas and Happy 2025 to those who celebrate it! As you can see, SANTA HAS DELIVERED!

I am so happy and excited to have some people who remember my fic from back then, now returning! I wish I could notify everyone…alas, maybe one day! I am already super happy just by one or two good people who see it and read it. I truly hope it gives you the same joy to read it as I get from writing it.

So: Seeing as I love you all I could not leave you without a Christmas present. 55 BRUTAL pages of it, in fact! Go to town! I have to say guys, it took FOREVER and was an absolute b$&h to write ((you'll see why - so much jargon and dramatic pacing to deal with….omg….love it, but also love that it's over :D), but I did my level best and I think it's reasonably fun to read. The next one should be easier and even MORE action packed!

Please do let me know if you find the pacing slow or lagging at any points! Do the descriptions go on too long? I tried my best to create some atmosphere without being repetitive. Also, do you think the characters are developing naturally? (I don't have as much of a bee in my bonnet as before about keeping them 1000% canon, because at this point it's actually unrealistic for them to be like before...they've been through Hell ffs)

Just to let you know again, I am currently focused on finishing the novel (there is still a while to go). This story "True Elision" is actually two novels, 1) The Trial and 2) Mu. When I finish Mu, i will re-write/heavily edit the first novel as well (The Trial), because I don't like the writing in it anymore. It could be a lot better.. In fact I really respect you for dealing with it so far.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter.

(and yes, the hot stuff is coming, I promise…..I PROMISE! THere's some of it starting already, in fact…if you squint :D )

Enjoy and happy holidays!


Erebus II: Confusion


Raito stretched his shoulders, tilting his head back until satisfying cracks echoed in the silence. The blood on his clothes and in his hair had finally dried, pulling uncomfortably against his skin. He very pointedly did not look back at the spot he had landed, where a crimson pool was still congealing on the floor.

L stood a few paces away, adjusting his shirt with unhurried movements. The soft corridor light caught the edge of his slim wrist as he tugged at the fabric. How long he had sat there waiting for Raito to revive—or what exactly Raito had looked like during that unsettling process—were questions better left unasked.

Ratio looked around wearily. Where are we? he wondered, for what felt like the umpteenth time. The place their fall had landed them in defied logic. Dark, cavernous, and featureless, it bore no discernible connection to the stairwell they'd been climbing, as if that point of origin had simply ceased to exist. Only a corridor stretched ahead, its faint glow the sole hint of direction.

"Let's go?"

L nodded.

The air was heavy and warm, clinging to their skin like a second layer. The corridor itself gleamed with seamless gunmetal gray, broken only by strips of white light embedded in the floor, which seemed to be guiding them endlessly forward. Drones hovered silently overhead, their lenses swiveling to track every move. And perhaps most disturbingly, here and there along the walls and ceilings there were faint lines of white light, pulsating faintly underneath the surface — like a capillary system, breathing.

Raito's footsteps were steady despite the ache in his muscles. L walked beside him quietly, his sharp gaze flickering between the glowing circuitry on the walls and the ever-watchful drones above them. His posture, long and fluid, bore only the faintest hint of the slouch that once defined him.

He's pretty tall, when standing upright, Ratio thought absently, for perhaps the millionth time since he had met L in Mu. And he was lean, almost too lean for the wide trousers that swayed with each step. He wondered what L would look like in tighter clothes, actually. Maybe next time he raided a Haunted House Raito should find something more fitting…

What the—? He snapped his eyes forward, irritation flaring at his own distraction. Why was he thinking about L's clothes, of all things?!

Minutes passed in a thick, oppressive quiet. Occasionally, the mechanical whir of unseen machinery broke the silence, punctuated by faint, distant clicks that echoed briefly before fading.

It was Raito who spoke in the end, his eyes narrowing as he noticed a familiar light ahead—a flickering holographic map projected against the wall.

"Who knows where we are now," he muttered, his voice edged with frustration. "This place changes constantly. For all we know, that fall might've dropped us on the top floor."

L's gaze lingered on a surveillance camera before tilting up to the ceiling. The glowing lines rippled faintly as they walked, as though responding to their proximity. "A distinct possibility," he said, his tone calm but clipped. "But if spatial rules don't apply, it may not matter where we are. The layout might follow an entirely different principle."

Raito's mouth twisted in half-annoyance, half-smugness. "You mean I was right? Logic doesn't work here after all?"

L tilted his head slightly, acknowledging Raito's sarcasm with a faint nod. "It would have been impossible to verify without testing the hypothesis. Now we have sufficient evidence."

"Right. Evidence." Raito resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They had come close to the map by now. The glowing grid on it was incomprehensible, its shifting lines forming and reforming nonsensical patterns. He gestured toward it dismissively. "So, what now? Study another useless map and let it outwit us again?"

L's fingers hovered near his lips as though debating whether to chew his thumb. "Perhaps we've been approaching this incorrectly," he said at last. "We've treated it as a trap to escape, but perhaps it's more of a puzzle to solve."

Raito tensed. That trace of excitement in L's voice was never a good sign. "A puzzle," he repeated, his tone deliberately neutral. "You're suggesting we stop trying to escape?"

"I'm suggesting," L said evenly, "that we focus less on the act of escaping and more on understanding the structure's purpose. Especially the computer system that operates it. If we can discern its intent, we may find a clearer path forward."

"And what if its 'intent' is just to kill us?" Raito shot back. "That A.I. seems sadistic enough."

"Even so." L's thumb brushed his bottom lip thoughtfully. The pale glow of the corridor light accentuated the sharp contours of his face. "We've seen cracks in its control. That gives us an opportunity to exploit it—possibly deactivate it."

Raito studied him for a long moment, the pulsing glow of the walls reflecting in those onyx eyes. He wanted to argue, to dismiss the idea as another of L's cryptic gambles. But the faint hum of the walls, the hovering drones, and the unshakable sense of being watched made every other option seem equally grim. And L had an expression… that expression…the one with the calm blinking eyes and the unshaken focus, that it almost made Raito believe the other man knew what he was talking about.

"Fine," he agreed at last. "But don't forget—those 'cracks' could just be another part of its sick game."

"Noted," L murmured, already looking ahead.

As they moved forward, Raito cast a wary glance at the glowing veins that lined the walls. They pulsed rhythmically, almost like arteries carrying blood.

It's like this place is alive, he thought grimly. And waiting to strike.


Fifteen or so minutes of walking later, the dark corridor with its white floor lights still seemed to stretch endlessly ahead. The walls had begun to shift subtly, faint holographic symbols flickering to life before vanishing too quickly to decipher. Floating above, the hovering drones maintained their silent pursuit, the faint whir of their lenses a constant reminder of the A.I.'s watchful presence.

Just as Raito was about to comment on the unsettling monotony, his eyes caught on a large, glowing sign above a wide set of double doors ahead. The letters, stark and ominous in their simplicity, read:

NEUROTECHNOLOGY

Both men slowed to a halt, their gazes fixed on the sign. For a moment, neither spoke.

"Well," Raito said finally, his voice tinged with irony, "that doesn't sound ominous at all."

L's expression remained sharp, his dark eyes unreadable.

"Interesting," L murmured, his tone smooth and deliberate. "Of all the departments, it chose to bring us here."

They exchanged a glance, neither voicing the question echoing in both their minds: Why? Surely this was another step toward inevitable cruelty, but what reason could there be for the choice of location? Was there any guiding principle, here?

Raito's thoughts flickered back to their fall through the endless void. He could only hope L's determination to uncover the truth would yield some answers before they faced another two-hundred-floor plummet.

The double doors hissed open as they approached, revealing a dimly lit lobby that looked more like an anteroom to an underground techno club than a corporate lounge. Plush, angular furniture in muted greys and blacks sat untouched in the corners, flanked by holographic projectors displaying slick, rotating advertisements. The faint sound of running machinery filled the room, and neon lights cast fleeting, fractured shadows across the polished, metallic floor.

Encased in shimmering force fields were various devices, each accompanied by floating text boasting their supposed innovations. The air carried the faint chemical tang of newly minted machines, and the holograms reflected faintly in the mirrored tiles beneath their feet.

Raito moved cautiously toward the displays, his sharp gaze scanning the text. "Finally," he muttered, "we get to see what this place was actually for."

"This is only one department," L said, trailing behind with soundless steps."Part of a larger design, no doubt." His posture remained relaxed, though his gaze darted to the walls as if watching for hidden threats. As the black-haired man stepped forward, Raito's eyes lingered briefly on the wide expanse of those shoulders in the white shirt, another annoying acknowledgement of L's deceptively lean frame.

The largest display near the room's center drew their attention. Within its glowing case, a sleek device—no larger than a matchbox—rotated slowly. Beside it, floating text read:

NeuroLink: Streamline productivity with direct brain-to-machine interfacing.

Beneath it, smaller text promised: Seamless neural integration and real-time cognitive enhancement for professionals.

Raito frowned. "Neural integration?" He leaned closer, skepticism evident in the hard line of his mouth. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"It depends," L replied, tilting his head slightly, the unblinking eyes betraying deep thought. "It could be as benign as adaptive learning software… or as invasive as cognitive overwrite."

Raito's lip curled. "Right."

Further along, a smaller device sat under its own projection: a thin band labeled Focus NeuroBand: Optimize attention and eliminate distractions in seconds. The accompanying hologram showed a stylized brain lighting up as the band pulsed faintly.

"Think they'd let me borrow one?" Raito muttered, glancing at L. "Might make working with you more tolerable."

"Possibly," L said dryly. "If it could stop you from making inane comments."

Raito smirked faintly but said nothing, his attention drawn to another display nearby. This one featured a two-piece set: a sleek black earpiece paired with a minimalist watch-like band. Above it, the floating text read:

WhisperSync: Revolutionize communication. Share thoughts, instructions, and strategies via synchronized brain engrams. Designed for military and security professionals.

Raito studied the rotating device, his expression darkening. "Telepathy?" He hesitated. Dangerous? Impossible? Obscenely invasive?

"It would take stealth and Special Ops to another level " L noted, stepping closer. "But it implies significant neural mapping—likely dangerous."

"And exploitable," Raito added sharply. "Imagine intercepting or altering those signals. Total control."

"Indeed…" L's gaze lingered on the device. "Though it seems you don't need help reading my mind, Raito-kun."

Before Raito could respond, a shimmering light flickered to life in the center of the room. A holographic projection of a woman materialized, her polished features unnervingly smooth, her edges glitching faintly. She smiled—a pleasant, practiced expression that didn't quite reach her glassy eyes.

Raito froze. Was this her? The voice that had haunted them? The A.I.?

This woman's voice, however, was different—static-laced and distinctly cheerful. Raito was reminded of an air hostess.

"Welcome to Erebus Neurotech," she said. "This is our lobby, where you can explore the future of human potential through cutting-edge innovation. Please take your time with the introductory displays."

L stepped toward her image, his posture tense but calm. "What is Neurotech?" he asked bluntly.

"Erebus Neurotech is a pioneer in human augmentation and enhancement," the assistant replied, her smile unwavering. "By merging neural pathways with advanced artificial intelligence, we offer solutions that optimize performance, enhance efficiency, and revolutionize communication."

Merging neural pathways?

"In other words," Raito said dryly, folding his arms, "you mess with people's brains."

The assistant didn't acknowledge him. "Our innovations span military, educational, therapeutic and leisure sectors. Interactive exhibits are available in the showroom to demonstrate our technologies."

Her hand gestured toward a glowing sign marked "Showroom" off to the side. Unlike the other doors like "Research and Development" or "Library", which were sealed with red lights and labeled "RESTRICTED ACCESS", the electronic pad next to it was resoundingly green.

Raito shot L a look, knowing they were thinking the same thing: they didn't really have options to go anywhere else, did they?

L turned back to the virtual woman, his eyes narrowing. "What risks are associated with these technologies?"

The assistant's projection flickered slightly. "Erebus Neurotech adheres to the highest safety standards. All our devices are rigorously tested to ensure optimal performance."

"That's not an answer," Raito said flatly.

The assistant's tone softened, almost apologetic. "Certain information is classified. For inquiries regarding safety protocols, please consult an Erebus representative."

"Sure," Raito muttered. "Plenty of those around."

L turned toward the showroom door. "It seems this is our next step."

Raito lingered for a moment, unease twisting in his gut as he glanced back at the devices. The thought of hearing someone else's thoughts—or exposing his own—sent a chill through him. He followed L reluctantly.

"If this 'showroom' is half as futuristic as the lobby," he said lightly, "we're in for a treat."

"Hn.." the detective made a low, thoughtful sound of agreement.

As he approached the glass entrance, for just a fleeting moment, Raito caught L's reflection in the dark glass doors. The dim light cast him in an almost ethereal glow, distant and untouchable—just as he'd seemed that first day in Mu, standing apart from the crowd, as though a spotlight was illuminating him from above.

Glowing.

That's right. Looks like a ghost, Raito fastidiously corrected the thought. It's probably the stupid white shirt. Stupid, he ranted in his mind, the momentary vision swept away as the doors slid open.

L walked through them slowly, his black hair catching the light above and for a second, just a millisecond, shining blue.

Raito's chest tightened, and he couldn't say why.


As it turned out, he didn't have to work very hard to keep distractions at bay. When he saw what was in store for them in the famous 'Showroom', he was left utterly speechless.

True to form, it was a cavernous gallery, dimly lit but alive with neon displays and holographic projections—a veritable high-tech museum. Devices perched on sleek pedestals, each accompanied by a glowing panel advertising its capabilities.

L and Raito moved through the space with measured steps, their eyes scanning the curated technology. Each section was distinct—Military, Medical, Education, Psychotherapy, Leisure—marked by signs that glowed faintly in the haze.

They passed Eidetic Eyes, a device promising to capture every detail, ensuring you "forget nothing." Next came Serene Sync, which claimed to erase anxiety entirely, replacing it with perpetual calm.

Raito raised an eyebrow. "Imagine selling these around Mu. One could make a fortune."

"In rotten fruit, perhaps," L muttered, his focus elsewhere.

He had gravitated toward a pedestal displaying something called Cerebral Ascend—a small almond-shaped implant designed to fit inconspicuously behind the ear. Its tagline hovered overhead:

"Enhance your cognitive speed and performance. Think deeper. Solve faster. Be unstoppable."

L studied it with unnerving intensity, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

Raito smirked. "Really, L? Not smart enough already?"

L didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the device as though it were a stubborn puzzle. "Cognitive enhancement is a tempting promise. More intelligence, less wasted time."

"And less humanity," Raito quipped, shaking his head.

"That depends on how you define humanity," L replied without looking up.

Raito's smirk faltered. He suppressed the bitterness rising in his chest. Clearly, your version of the ideal human is just being a huge calculating machine, he thought, recalling L's unreadable expression on the stairwell. L would never have emotions. Perhaps he was better off that way.

The conversation fizzled, tension hovering in the air. L lingered by the device a moment longer before moving on.

When they reached the Military section, it was Raito's turn to slow. Now this… this was fascinating.

The displays showcased a myriad of gadgets—gloves, visors, helmets, earpieces—all promising enhancements: aggression amplification, extreme focus, perfect clarity under pressure.

Near the center, a pedestal bore a gleaming piece labeled Sentinel Prime. Sleek and minimal, it looked more like jewelry than advanced tech.

"Silence emotion. Optimize decisions. Feel no fear.", the tagline read.

Raito stared too long. The idea of perfect control, of eliminating chaos—doubt, fear, vulnerability—dug into his thoughts like a thorn. He could imagine himself going around Mu, his mind calm and silent, his actions calm and unaffected. Like L, a treacherous voice whispered. He was already good under stress, years as Kira had ensured that. But still, to feel nothing...To be unshakable…. To never let L see him flinch…

He tore his gaze away. Exceedingly bad idea, he told himself. But the temptation lingered, crawling under his skin like a parasite.

They moved on, passing increasingly outlandish devices:"Mnemonic Vault: Secure your memories. Lock away the pain.", "Equilibrium Nexus: Master your reflexes. Master the world.", "Augmentis Grip: Extreme strength in the palm of your hand."

"Some of this stuff sounds too good to be true," Raito mused aloud. "I wonder if there are side effects."

"Undoubtedly," L said from a nearby pedestal but did not elaborate.

Raito ignored the prickling discomfort in his chest, instead focusing on the grandeur of this shrine to superpowers. He could see why this company had been such a big deal. It was awe-inspiring. Daunting.

"All this about human augmentation," he muttered, eyeing a visor that promised augmented UV vision, live spatial analysis, and instant face recognition. "Sounds like they were trying to create a race of Übermensch, doesn't it?"

"It does..." L's voice came soft but steady, and Raito could hear the trace of judgment in it. "But judging by the fact this building is in Mu, it's questionable whether they succeeded."

Raito's eyes narrowed at a throat implant labeled Premium Force, which promised to "Shut down hesitation. Be free from conscience. Become the Beast."

Free from conscience, he thought grimly. Lose morality? Kill without hesitation?

"Perhaps they succeeded too well," he muttered, casting a loaded glance at L.

Their eyes met, and the unspoken exchange lingered. If this company had been trying to create superhumans, had those superhumans turned against them?

At last, they neared the end of the gallery, arriving at the two-piece device they had seen at the lobby, the one titled WhisperSync; a wristband and earpiece for telepathic communication.

"Perfect synchronization for teams. Read your comrades' minds. Communicate silently and effortlessly."

Raito lingered, taking in the simplicity of its design. Read minds. The thought was both fascinating and utterly repellent.

He looked away quickly. Best not to imagine what he could've done with it as Kira. Nor any other of these devices, to be fair.

Finally, the shimmering field marking the exit loomed ahead, casting faint reflections on their faces.

"Well?" Raito asked, glancing at L.

"Impressive," L replied, his tone neutral. "A showcase of potential."

"'Impressive,'" Raito echoed, narrowing his eyes. "'Or terrifying?'"

L tilted his head. "A tool is neither good nor evil, Raito-kun. It is only as good as the hands wielding it."

Their gazes locked again, the weight of L's words settling like a stone between them.

Raito blinked and smirked faintly, refusing to rise to the bait. Cheap shot, he thought, yet his heartbeat thudded, traitorous and loud.

"Let's keep going," he said, breaking the moment and turning toward the doors.

L fell into step beside him, the perfect picture of innocence. But Raito felt the sting of his venom linger, along with an unbidden memory of L's dark eyes watching him fall.

He didn't try to pull me up before.

Then again, didn't he? Raito recalled the beginning—L had reached out, but Raito had been too far. After that, though...it was as if L had changed his mind. He'd just stood there, hand limp in the air, watching Raito fall.

Did he fall like me?

Raito's eyes flicked to the back of L's head. The black hair caught the faint blue glow of the light, strands shifting as he scanned the corridor ahead. If L had fallen accidentally, like Raito had, why wasn't there even a speck of blood on him?

Or did he jump after me?

And if he had jumped voluntarily…why? Was the climb pointless to him? Had he refused to continue alone? Or was it because he still thought Raito was Kira, someone to monitor even in this place?

He'll never let Kira go. Even now…

Raito tore his gaze away, annoyed at his own thoughts. What did it matter what L thought of him, or if he jumped after him, or not? He needed to focus on their current predicament, not meaningless speculation.

His eyes drifted back to the other man, walking steadily ahead. Calm, observant, entirely focused. Raito gritted his teeth. L probably didn't indulge in this kind of useless rumination. Or if he did, he never showed it.

Forcing himself to look at the walls around them, Raito resolved to stay focused.

And yet...the irritation lingered, along with the thought of "Sentinel Prime" and its promise of emotional silence.


The corridor ahead retained the dim glow of neon strips lining the floors, branching into smaller hallways marked with overhead signs. The polished sheen of the showroom was gone, replaced by a utilitarian—but still faintly corporate—atmosphere.

Signs glowed pale blue beside the doors they passed: Consultation Room 3A, Virtual Demo Suite, Leisure Product Trials, Clinical Applications– Authorized Personnel Only. Frosted glass panels offered glimpses of empty cubicles, their faint reflections shimmering under recessed lighting.

Raito slowed near a door labeled Interactive Client Experience, leaning closer to peer through the glass. The barren room inside was dominated by a sleek, wall-mounted device blinking faintly in irregular rhythms.

"Looks like salesmanship hasn't evolved much," he muttered, his tone low and sardonic. "Can't you just hear it? 'Brain implants! Two for one! Act now!'"

L didn't join in the mockery, but he paused mid-step, his gaze drifting toward another door marked Augment Customization Suite. "'Tailored to the client's needs,' no doubt," he murmured. "Designed to inspire confidence."

Raito hummed quietly, his tone edging into sarcasm. "And? Inspired?"

L didn't answer, his silence perhaps indicating his ambivalence. They moved deeper into the corridor, the air cooling as the hum of distant machinery grew louder. Some doors were completely see-through, revealing darkened rooms with overturned chairs or faint scuff marks on the floor.

Raito's eyes caught on a small, dark streak trailing from one doorframe and curving out of sight along the baseboards — or base 'metal' as it were. He crouched slightly, examining it with a frown. The stain was deep red-brown, smeared in a way that suggested someone—or something—had been dragged.

"Blood?" he asked aloud, glancing over his shoulder at L.

L crouched next to him, his finger hovering above the streak but not touching it. "Possibly," he murmured. "Though it could be something else—machine oil, perhaps."

"Coffee," Raito countered, almost too quickly, as if wishing it into existence. But even he wasn't convinced.

They moved on, the air growing heavier with every step. The hum of machinery wasn't steady anymore; it stuttered occasionally, sending faint vibrations through the floor. Overhead, one of the neon strips buzzed loudly and flickered, casting jagged shadows along the walls.

Ahead of them, a door marked Environmental Simulation Lab slid partially open just enough to make the hissing sound noticeable. Raito froze mid-step, his head tilting toward the noise. The door rhythmically slid closed and open again, as though something was triggering the sensors — even though nothing was there.

L took a slow step toward it, peering into the faint darkness beyond. The only visible object was an overturned chair and the pale gleam of scattered electronics. Without comment, L moved on, leaving Raito to stare a moment longer before following.

As they pressed forward, the dim lighting grew more erratic, the edges of the hallway dissolving into shadow. A faint metallic tang hung in the air, a mix of oil and overheated wiring—or maybe blood.

Raito's gaze drifted toward L again, catching the sound of those baggy clothes as they shuffled with each step. How annoying. And again, even more annoying, he noticed how tall L actually was. In life, Ratio had always looked down at L—a small but satisfying advantage that felt unnervingly absent here. Now, they were the same height.

Annoying.

"Stop dragging your feet," Raito snapped, more sharply than intended. L turned toward him, his gaze slightly questioning. Raito looked away, unsure why irritation bristled beneath his skin. He sped up slightly.

"Just considering," L said after a pause, his hand lifting to point at the signs overhead. "There's no shortage of places to explore."

"You'd think that was the case," Raito muttered, gladly transferring his annoyance to a new topic, "if they weren't mostly locked off."

L's gaze stayed fixed ahead, unperturbed. As though to taunt Raito's words, a faint glow peeked through at the far end of the hall. A large sign, scungy compared to the others, blinked faintly above an unmarked door, reading STAFF ONLY. The keypad next to it flashed an inviting green.

"You were saying?" L's flat baritone held the faintest edge of amusement.

Raito tilted his head, his lip curling into a one-sided grin. "Subtle. Why not add flashing arrows that say, "This way to your doom"?"

"It does indeed seem like the building is guiding us," L said. "Manipulating accessibility to different areas."

"Guiding us," Raito echoed, darkly. "Or trapping us?"

"We're already trapped, Raito-kun." L turned to him, his tone disarmingly gentle. "We might as well make the most of it."

And then Raito saw it—L's eyes. Where they were usually pools of deep, opaque black, now they were bright, light blue. The entire irises had caught the neon light from above. It was such a stark transformation that for a moment, Raito thought L might be wearing contact lenses.

The sight froze him in place, his breath catching in his chest. It felt like he was staring at someone entirely new, some kind of magical spirit inhabiting L's body.

"What is it?" L asked, his voice calm, tilting his head with mild curiosity. And as he did, thankfully, the reflection of the light moved off his face and his eyes went back to normal again.

"Raito-kun?"

"Nothing," Raito said quickly, his voice harsher than intended. He turned away with a jerk, pretending to study the grimy STAFF ONLY sign at the end of the hallway. "The lights. They're strange."

By the time he glanced back, L had already moved on, his steps deliberate as he approached the door. Raito lingered for a moment, the image of L's changed eyes burned into his mind, and the knot of unease tightening in his chest.

Get a grip, he told himself, wondering if he should head back and grab that emotional-silencing gadget. Sentinel Prime, after all. He didn't understand why he was so…jittery, lately. Was Mu finally getting to him?

His thoughts finally subsided as they reached the metal STAFF door. It slid open at L's touch on the access panel, revealing a dark, narrow staircase spiraling downward. The rhythmic hum of machinery grew louder, echoing faintly through the confined space — as though at the bottom of the stairs awaited larger, stronger machines.

Raito groaned audibly, his annoyance spilling over. Not stairs again… He'd had his fill of stair-climbing to last a lifetime by now. "After you." he said briefly, masking his sense of trepidation with mild sarcasm.

L didn't respond, descending without hesitation, calm in the face of darkness. Raito followed, his bravado faltering under the oppressive quiet of the stairwell. L's calm was maddening, a sharp contrast to the unease simmering in his own chest.

At the bottom, the polished aesthetics of above gave way to stark utility. Exposed wiring crisscrossed the ceiling, and the faint vibrations in the walls were more pronounced. Neon signs marked branching paths: Neural Enhancement Labs, Cognitive Trial Wing, System Security Hub, Product Maintenance. Some paths were illuminated by glowing arrows; others blocked by red warning lights.

"Lovely," Raito muttered. "More options."

"The labs or testing areas will likely hold product-related data," L said, his tone clinical, "If we want deeper information, we must seek out administrative offices."

"Assuming the environment doesn't decide to 'reorganize' itself, or Ghosts start popping up." Raito countered. "Time isn't necessarily on our side."

"Then we should optimize our search," L replied pensively. "We could cover more ground if we separate."

The suggestion hit Raito like a cold slap. He glanced at the labyrinthine corridors branching out around them. Separating would be efficient—but also dangerous. The idea of losing L in this place stirred a knot of unease in his gut… mostly because L was useful, and it was more logical to stick together than not.

"Bad idea," he said, his voice clipped. L's eyes flicked toward him, questioning. "I don't trust this place," Raito added, folding his arms. "If we split up, it might deliberately isolate us. Better stick together —for now."

L considered him for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then he nodded. "Fair enough."

Raito exhaled, relieved more than he cared to admit. It wasn't worth analyzing. Staying together simply made sense. That was all.

The first door they tried slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a room packed with rows of capsule-like pods. Each was large enough to fit a person, their interiors padded with synthetic material. Dim lights inside the capsules cast eerie shadows on the walls, and faint residue smeared the inner glass of several units. A panel beside each pod displayed jagged readouts and dead monitors.

"Sleep deprivation studies?" Raito guessed, eyeing the unsettling apparatus.

"Possibly," L murmured, inspecting a nearby pod. "Or immersive simulation. Without power, it's difficult to tell."

A faint shudder rippled through the room, and Raito's eyes snapped to the nearest pod. Nothing moved, but the sense of unease deepened. "Did you feel that?"

L nodded, his gaze narrowing. "We should continue."

The next room was marked Cognitive Load Testing. Inside, angular desks surrounded a cluster of sleek chairs, each affixed with metallic headsets connected by tangled wires to towering servers. Charts and graphs flickered faintly on a few monitors, remnants of their last operation.

"Stress-testing human thought capacity," L observed. "Pushing minds to their limits."

"And possibly breaking them in the process." Raito muttered, brushing dust off a terminal. He barely resisted the urge to gasp as a faint creak sounded behind them. When he turned, he found nothing out of place, but the oppressive quiet seemed to tighten around them.

They moved on to a third room, this one dominated by robotic arms suspended from the ceiling, their delicate joints poised over a disassembled humanoid mannequin. Beside it, a table displayed a spread of tools—scalpels, wires, and small screens.

"Neural prosthetics? Or… something worse," Raito mused, glancing at the mannequin's vacant eye sockets.

L didn't respond immediately, his focus shifting to a toppled chair near the corner. He crouched beside it, studying it as though it might hold some answer. Raito's eyes, unbidden, followed the way L's long fingers brushed the seat's edge. They were absurdly delicate, really. Built for touching keyboards and teacups, not—

A hollow thud echoed in the distance, snapping Raito's attention back to the room with an irritated shake of his head. "This place– something's off."

L straightened, his posture rigid. "...You're not alone in that assessment." he finally muttered.

The next corridor led to a larger lab, its walls lined with glass cabinets containing rows of mechanical devices—half-finished drones, shattered visors, and spheres that pulsed faintly with green light. As they moved through the room, the green glow flickered ominously, casting erratic shadows that seemed to crawl across the walls.

Suddenly, the sound of metal screeching against tile pierced the air. One of the drones tumbled from its perch, rolling toward them before coming to an abrupt stop.

Raito froze, his pulse quickening. Telekinesis? They hadn't seen any Ghosts until now. Usually it took three ghost Sightings or more to start this kind of…activity.

"I'm sure that was just gravity." he muttered, darkly.

L kept quiet, taking a step closer. He reached for the drone cautiously, but before he could touch it, the cabinets rattled violently, and the flickering lights overhead dimmed further.

Both men instinctively backed toward the door, their unease sharpening into alarm. The rattling subsided as abruptly as it had begun, leaving a charged silence in its wake.

"We need to move," Raito said tersely "And get some information, fast."

L nodded, his expression unreadable. "Agreed."

They stepped back into the corridor, the air now heavy with tension. If the increased eeriness was any indication, they were rapidly running out of time, here.

They continued down the corridor, passing a room labeled Maintenance. This time, Raito took the lead, pressing the keypad next to it. The door slid open smoothly, revealing a space much more cluttered than the others. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with discarded devices in various states of disassembly. Toolkits lay scattered across a central workbench, tangled among cables, circuit boards, and diagnostic scanners.

"Ah." Raito muttered as he stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the mess. "I see why clients aren't allowed here."

As he entered, he noticed the air inside carried the sharp tang of grease and overheated wiring. A loud hum vibrated through the floor, drawing Raito's eyes to a panel at the back of the room, which flickered erratically as if caught in a malfunctioning loop.

L followed silently, his eyes scanning the room with detached precision. He approached a shelf lined with neural headsets, their wires spilling out like exposed veins. One headset looked as if it had been pried open and abandoned mid-repair.

"Decommissioned," L said, his tone clinical. "Possibly awaiting repairs."

Raito wandered toward the opposite side of the room, lifting a device that resembled a helmet crossed with a crown. The surface was charred black on one side, its delicate metal prongs bent inward.

"Repairs?" Raito scoffed. "Or experiments gone wrong?" He set it down and dusted his hands, glancing sharply as the hum from the back panel seemed to rise and fall, like shallow breathing.

As he moved to a different section of shelves labeled Repaired, his fingers brushed a row of polished devices. They gleamed under the dim light, looking pristine compared to the chaos elsewhere. Among them, one stood out—a small, sleek earpiece encased in brushed steel. Its surface shimmered faintly, though near its base, the metal was subtly discolored, as if touched by fire.

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It came paired with wristbands and another earpiece. The design was elegant, deliberate. Flawless. "This doesn't belong in a junkyard." Recognition flickered in his mind. He'd seen it before.

L turned at his words, his head tilting in vague curiosity. "Ah. The new-age walkie-talkie," he murmured. "Whisper, was it?"

Raito brought one earpiece to eye level, squinting in search of defects. His reflection twisted on its surface, distorted under the flickering light. A small voice in his mind—one he'd been trying to ignore for some time—whispered insistently, like an old friend he couldn't shake: Try it.

"Should we?" he asked, half-smirking, half-serious.

"No." L's answer came instantly, his tone sharp enough to cut.

"It would speed things up, as you said," Raito pressed lightly. "If we could separate."

"No, Raito-kun," L repeated, this time locking eyes with him. "We will not plug questionable devices into our brains," L added flatly.

For a moment, the light behind L's back flickered again, just enough to outline his head in an otherworldly halo. Raito frowned; for an instant, L's face looked strangely...different – his skin almost translucent, as though the light had revealed something beneath. The moment passed, and L turned away, indifferent as always.

Raito exhaled a short laugh, letting some of his tension dissolve. "Afraid I'll read your thoughts?"

"I'm rather afraid I'll read yours," L replied, his tone dry. He turned back to the shelves, his lanky frame swaying slightly as he moved.

Raito's smirk faltered, though he masked it quickly. Reading L's thoughts. His fingers tightened around the Whisper. No…But, perhaps… the voice in his mind prodded again. No. He told it firmly.

The flickering panel at the back of the room suddenly dimmed, the hum escalating into a sharp, mechanical whine before cutting out entirely. Somewhere above them, metal groaned faintly, as though shifting under unseen weight. Raito's eyes darted to the shelves nearest him; for a fraction of a second, one of the neural headsets tilted, balanced precariously on its edge, then stilled.

The noise settled, leaving only eerie total silence in its wake.

Raito shook off the moment, slipping the Whisper into his pocket. It wasn't curiosity – it was strategy. Who knows - it could prove useful. At least that's what his mind kept saying, and he was too distracted this time to make it stop.

"Let's go," he said, his voice steady. L cast him a brief, unreadable glance before heading toward the door. The faint glow of malfunctioning machines pulsed behind them like the dying embers of a fire, as if the room were reluctant to let them leave.

Once again, they found themselves in the labyrinthine halls, the corridors tightening with every turn. The walls seemed closer now, not quite claustrophobic but edging toward it, as though the building itself were pressing inward. Signs became sporadic, the overhead beams of artificial light flickering erratically. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, as though cast by a light source just out of sight, and they seemed to ripple with movement—never quite aligning with their own.

The duo passed doors and branching paths, the signs growing increasingly vague. Observation Bay, Bio-Circuitry Lab, Testing Wing 4—the words felt meaningless as they moved forward, only to be replaced by others just as cryptic. Overhead, the faint hum of fluorescent bulbs warbled, a sound like static growing louder and softer at irregular intervals. It was as thought the space was distorting slowly, becoming a patchwork of elements rather than a unified whole.

Turning a corner, they faced another set of diverging paths. One corridor sloped downward, the metallic floor slick with condensation, glinting faintly in the dim light. Another split into a junction with no visible markings, its walls lined with faint grooves, as though something had been pried off long ago.

Raito stopped, narrowing his eyes at the maze-like expanse ahead. "Are we sure clients weren't allowed here? Perhaps this place was designed to scramble their minds, so they'd be in need of brain gadgets."

L, a few steps ahead, did not respond. He tilted his head slightly, as if catching a sound too faint for Raito to hear. For a moment, he was entirely still. The faint air currents stirred the loose strands of his hair, making their edges glint like silver under the flickering light.

"Thoughts?" Raito asked, folding his arms. His voice carried a hint of sarcasm masking genuine curiosity. "Wireless signals?"

L still didn't answer. Instead, his hand rose to his chin, his gaze fixed on the sloping left-hand corridor. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low murmur, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "The architecture was consistent in the upper levels. If there's a system here, it's deliberately obfuscated."

"Genius," Raito drawled, leaning against the cold metal wall. "Maybe you can write a treatise on it after we get out of here."

L turned to him, dark eyes glinting faintly in the unreliable light. "If your sarcasm were actionable, we'd be making progress."

Raito grinned faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Fair."

They moved down the left path, the air growing colder with every step. The metallic tang of oil and machinery grew sharper, mingled with the hiss of steam from unseen vents. The flickering lights seemed slower now, each one threatening to go out entirely before grudgingly coming back to life.

As they rounded another corner, shadows clung to their heels like dark tendrils, retreating into the walls as if reluctant to let go. The air pressed heavily against them, and the hum of distant machinery twisted into faint, unintelligible whispers.

They stopped at a junction. Gone were the fancy neon lights now, here all the bulbs were grimy and flickery. The walls bore etched arrows and numbers, most crossed out or defaced in jagged strokes. One arrow, labeled Main Security Access, pointed to a passage blocked by twisted metal and crumbled wall panels. A faint drip echoed in the distance, its source hidden beyond the oppressive dark.

Raito ran a hand through his hair, irritation flickering through his otherwise composed demeanor. "This place is designed for indecision." then, after a beat, he thought to himself, As though it overheard that we don't want to split up.

L studied the markings silently, his eyes scanning with an intensity that betrayed his photographic memory. Raito knew he was committing the chaotic scrawls to memory, creating a mental map,just as he himself had been doing.

Fidgeting absently, Raito pulled out the Whisper device. The earpieces and wristbands felt colder than the dim air around them, the chill of metal biting into his fingers. Turning it over in his hands, he tapped the screen experimentally, and it lit up with a glow too bright for the dim corridor.

Select Mode.

The two options, Voice and MindMeld, stood stark against the screen's dark background.

"You kept it?" L's quiet voice startled Raito, making him look up sharply, only to find L uncomfortably close— his breath virtually brushing Raito's cheek. Those dark, inscrutable eyes were fixed on the screen.

"I thought..." Raito's voice came out tight and he looked back down quickly. He selected Voice, the screen changing to a Connect Bands interface. "...it might work with sound too, not just telepathy."

L nodded slightly, his gaze drifting to the corridor ahead. "Not unreasonable…" he murmured.

Raito hesitated, the silence between them growing heavier. The temptation to test the MindMeld option gnawed at him—half curiosity, half morbid fascination. But the thought of L peering into his own mind quickly snuffed out the idea. He couldn't risk it.

"Alright," he said tersely. "Maybe let's try Voice..."

Before L could reply, a metallic clang echoed behind them, sharp and deliberate. Both froze, heads snapping toward the sound. A faint, dragging noise followed, closer than seemed possible, scraping like something heavy being pulled over uneven ground. A few of the electronic doors along the corridor slid open and shut again, as though the motion sensors again were picking up on some invisible body.

Just then, out of nowhere, the corridor suddenly plunged into darkness as the lights overhead flickered out. For an agonizing moment, there was only the sound of their breathing and the slow, deliberate scrape of that unseen presence.

When the lights sputtered back to life, the shadows had deepened unnaturally, stretching across the walls as though alive. Nothing was there.

Raito's pulse quickened. No time to second guess. Moving on instinct, he slid one wristband onto his arm and clipped the earpiece into place. The snug fit felt invasive, as though designed to meld unnervingly with his skin. He adjusted it, unease prickling his spine.

L mirrored him with some hesitation, fastening the second band around his wrist and placing the earpiece in his ear. A faint chime sounded from both devices, the automated voice cold and precise:

Voice Connected.

Raito glanced at L, whose expression remained calm despite the escalating eeriness around them. The dim light made his sharp features look like chiseled porcelain, his dark eyes unreadable as ever. Ratio looked away.

"Testing. Do you hear me?" Raito's voice was deliberate, pitched low.

"Yes," L replied, his voice crisp and oddly intimate through the device. "Clearer than I expected."

"Good." And it truly was good; at least now if they ever needed to separate, they would have a connection.

A faint ripple passed through the corridor as if the air itself shuddered. The metallic scrape resumed, irregular and grating. Shadows twitched in the corners of Raito's vision, disappearing when he turned to look.

He exhaled sharply. "Let's move."

They picked up their pace, their steps muffled against the damp floor. The Whisper device amplified every faint noise—a rustle of fabric, a soft breath—creating the illusion of intense proximity even when they weren't shoulder to shoulder.

Then another sound broke the stillness: a sharp tapping, irregular and dissonant, like nails raking metal. Raito froze, his breath catching as he strained to locate the source.

"It's ahead," L murmured through the Whisper.

Raito frowned. "No... it's..." His voice faltered as the sound abruptly ceased, leaving only a suffocating silence. "Forget it. Let's keep going."

The passage ahead narrowed, shadows pressing closer. More doors slid open and slammed shut without warning. A distant, ghostly rattle made Raito's pulse spike. It felt like a Haunted House in a carnival, playing with them just for the fun of it – only this was real, and there was no end in sight.

They turned another corner and halted. Two signs were lit faintly by flickering light:

Security Control Hub – an arrow pointed to a wide, metal corridor.
Administration – the arrow led to a narrower, unnervingly pristine hallway untouched by decay.

L tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "Security Control could grant access to surveillance or system overrides," he said.

"And Administration might have documentation," Raito countered, his eyes narrowing. "Information on this damned A.I."

"If we split up," L suggested carefully, his voice measured, "we can cover both areas faster."

Raito tensed. Splitting up felt reckless, but the logic was sound. With the Whisper, communication would still be possible.

He looked at L as he considered it, noticing the faintest sheen of sweat clinging to his pale skin, a reminder that even L wasn't immune to the oppressive heat pressing down on them.

The scraping sound came again—closer now, clawing at the edge of perception. As though everything around was conspiring to force the decision.

Finally, Raito exhaled through gritted teeth. "Fine. Forty minutes. We rendezvous here. No later."

L nodded, already moving toward the Security Control corridor.

Raito lingered for a moment, watching L disappear into the dark. The thought of losing sight of him gnawed at his nerves, but he shook it off, turning toward Administration.

"Forty minutes," he muttered to himself under his breath, forgetting that L would hear it. He was already quickening his pace – the sooner they could reconvene, the better.


The Administration Wing bore the same unnerving sterility as the floor above. It was as though suddenly, the architecture made consistent sense again: Smooth, unmarked walls shimmered in stark metallic hues, illuminated by recessed lighting that cast crawling shadows across the polished floors.

Gone were the mechanical groans and phantom whispers of earlier. Now, a suffocating stillness reigned, as though the building itself was holding its breath. Each clink of Raito's shoes echoed unnaturally, the sound amplified in the oppressive silence, like a reminder that something was listening.

Doors appeared at measured intervals, their glowing access panels blinking faintly in red or green. Pristine and clean neon labels floated above them—Personnel Records, Inventory Allocation, Human Resources. The mundane names mocked the unease coiled tightly in Raito's chest, though he refused to acknowledge it.

"L, status?" he murmured, his voice low, steady. His gaze lingered on a sealed door labeled Research Archives. He wasn't sure if he genuinely needed an update or just wanted to hear L's voice — yet another thing he wouldn't acknowledge.

"Still at the entrance to Security Control," came the husky baritone over the Whisper device, precise but clipped. "Retinal scanner and a secondary biometric layer. I'm bypassing it now."

A faint smirk tugged at Raito's lips. Of course he is. He caught the subtle impatience in L's tone, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable demeanor.

"Roger that," Raito replied, slightly irritated at himself for the reassurance he felt. It was maddening to rely on L, yet undeniable: if anyone could untangle this labyrinthine security, it was him.

Turning to the nearest green-lit panel—Inventory Allocation—Raito pressed his palm to the interface. It wasn't as promising as Research Archives for intelligence gathering, but it would have to do. The hiss of hydraulics broke the silence as the door slid open, flooding the room with sterile white light.

Inside, the air was cold, tinged with disinfectant and metal. The room was devoid of clutter or paper; only consoles and holographic displays – like the rest of this place. Each screen blinked faintly with a standard message: EREBUS MAR-e.L. v.8.2 – Standby.

"At least the computers are running," Raito muttered, half-aware the Whisper would transmit his words.

"Progress?" L's calm, unreadable voice cut through the static of his thoughts.

"Sorting through it now," Raito replied, his fingers tapping the nearest console. Data scrolled across the screen in simplified Chinese. His frown deepened; he'd forgotten this little detail. Unlike the signage over the doors, the place ran in this strange Chinese dialect… No matter. He wasn't paying attention before; now that he was focused, his Mandarin fluency would allow him to help pick it up quickly. As he skimmed over the documents, patterns quickly emerged:

"Resource redistribution to support Schaunhauer's cognitive synergy trials."

"Schaunhauer requisition denied. Excessive requests for synergy pods overstretching the department."

"Continued monopolization of departmental assets by Schaunhauer. Someone should remind him we're not all his lab rats!"

The name echoed in his mind, tinged with irritation: Schaunhauer. Was any of this useful, or just bureaucratic infighting?

"Raito-kun," L's voice cut through his focus. Calm, yet sharp. "I'm in."

Raito straightened instinctively. "And?"

"I've gained partial control over surrounding sectors. Some doors near you should now be accessible. Still unlocking the rest."

A satisfied smirk spread across Raito's face. "Good. That'll speed things up."

"Anything useful on your end?"

"Just office politics so far. Guy called Schaunhauer was hoarding resources for his research." Raito felt a twang of embarrassment. Here he was slogging through corporate gossip while L was performing cryptographic wizardry.

"Interesting," L murmured, curiosity threading through his tone. "Keep searching. I'll give you higher-level access soon."

Raito snorted, masking any latent admiration with sarcasm. "Try not to overexert yourself."

"Noted."

Back outside in the corridor, Raito noticed L's handiwork: formerly locked access panels now glowed green. His gaze returned to Research Archives, but still found it sealed. Clicking his tongue, he moved to the next option: Human Resources.

Inside, faint traces of human presence lingered—a half-empty water glass, a family photo, a paperweight shaped like a bird. The personal touches only amplified the room's lifelessness.

Logs displayed more mundane frustrations—grievances, resignations, overtime disputes. Yet the name kept surfacing, over and over: Schaunhauer. His research had drained personnel as thoroughly as equipment, leaving chaos in his wake.

But why? For what purpose?

Pushing the question aside, Raito stepped into Equipment Reclamation. Storage units lined the walls, each glowing faintly with a different message:

"Neural Interface v.2.3: Discontinued due to instability."
"Cognitive Uplink Module (Beta): Testing incomplete. Calibration required."
"Reclamation Pod 05: Compromised. Incident report filed under Restricted Access."

Raito's fingers paused over the touchpad on the last one. Compromised? The word coiled in his mind like a serpent. Why Restricted Access? He tapped the screen, but a red message flared angrily: "ACCESS DENIED. ADMINISTRATOR CLEARANCE REQUIRED."

"Tsk." He clicked his tongue, frustration simmering. "The best files are still behind a firewall."

"I just unlocked the next tier," L replied calmly. "One more node in Cognitive Operations, and Central Terminal will be live."

"As long as it's not a-live." Raito muttered the somewhat tasteless joke, unease gnawing at him.

The connection clicked off, leaving Raito in the stifling quiet once again. The absence of L's voice made the space feel even more hollow, as if the building was suddenly concentrating on him with all its psychic force, its stillness pressing in with a will to break his very bones.

I wonder if L is feeling the same…

Probably not. L didn't feel much, after all.

Frustration coiled tighter in his chest, a snake winding itself around his resolve, threatening to choke it. He clenched his jaw and stepped back into the corridor. The overhead lights flickered sporadically again, casting jagged shadows that seemed to stretch and writhe like living things against the cold metallic walls.

Another door, another panel. Raito approached it without even checking the sign, his fingers moving almost autonomously over the access terminal. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and he stepped into the sterile glow of another room.

The console hummed faintly under his touch, its interface springing to life. His fingers moved with growing familiarity, navigating corrupted files, fragmented data streams, and mundane logs. At first, the results felt like another dead end, but as he pushed deeper, unlocking hidden folders and digging past surface-level information, the unease that had settled in his chest began to grow sharper. The entries here were different:

"Behavioral anomalies observed in 32% of subjects after the Simulator trial."
"Incidents of unexpected independence by Augmentis Arm reported. Further monitoring required."
"Loss of operational control in Trial 14. Immediate suspension recommended."

Raito's pulse quickened as his eyes darted across the text. This wasn't bureaucratic bickering or routine resource squabbling—this was evidence of something more sinister. He glanced back toward the doorway, his stomach tightening when he noticed, for the first time, the sign overhead: Data Analytics.

Turning back to the terminal, he searched for the most recent entry. When he found it, his breath hitched. The log was heavily corrupted, broken sentences leaving just enough clarity to set his mind racing:

Last night's… was conclusive….Results are irreversible…corrosive to the nervous system…. subjects are no longer responsive.

No longer responsive. The words felt heavy, charged with something that made the air in the room colder.

Was it referring to machines? …Or humans? The ambiguity gnawed at him as he attempted to scroll further, but the console suddenly froze. A stark message glared back at him, red and angry as ever:

"ACCESS DENIED. ADMINISTRATOR CLEARANCE REQUIRED."

"Damnit!" he cursed despite himself, slapping his hand against the console in a free show of emotion—this was maddening. Just when he'd finally been getting somewhere—!

"L," he snapped, his voice taut with urgency.

"Almost there," L interrupted, maddeningly calm. "Entering Cognitive Wing now."

"Hurry!" Raito bit out, his irritation sharpening his words. He dragged a hand through his hair, dislodging dried flecks of blood still clinging to his scalp from their earlier ordeal. The movement brought back a flicker of memory—the nightmarish fall, the sickening impact—and a grim thought crept into his mind: This place is no stranger to killing, is it?

Stepping back into the corridor, his senses felt sharper, every sound and shadow exaggerated by the mounting tension. The air itself felt oppressive, heavy with something unspoken. For a moment, the silence was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of unseen machinery.

Then, a sound.

Raito froze mid-step, his breath catching. It was faint—like fabric brushing against metal—a whisper of movement carried through the stillness. His gaze darted to the far end of the corridor, where the shadows seemed darker, deeper, as though something unseen was coiling within them.

He turned sharply, scanning his surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he strained to pierce the gloom.

Nothing.

Forcing himself to exhale, he shook off the tension and pressed forward toward the next door, his steps more deliberate now.

"Raito-kun," L's voice broke the silence, "I need you in the Observation Bay to authorize a request on a terminal. Simultaneous activation required."

"I see it," Raito said, spotting the sign ahead — Observation Bay –- bigger and more prominent than all the others. "Going now." Without hesitation, he pushed forward, leaving the eeriness of the noise behind.

It didn't take long to reach it; it was unmissable, with a large double-door entrance. As he approached, the panels slid open with a hiss, revealing a cavernous, dark space unlike any he'd seen on this floor until now. Glass windows lined three of the walls from floor to ceiling, revealing only the faintest hint of machine outlines beyond.

There was a line of control panels against the far wall, producing a mechanized whir that sounded all the louder in the contained space. At the room's center, a lone console flickered, its pulsating red light casting jagged shadows across the walls. The screen glowed with a standard Standby message, like all the others before.

"I'm at Observation Bay," Raito said, his voice steadier than he felt. He approached the console cautiously, every step echoing too loudly in the silence. The sensation of being watched crawled over him like an unwelcome, cold touch.

"Sending request now." L said, his robotic detachment jarring in the darkness.

The message on the screen transformed in front of Raito's eyes: Protocol Initiation Request – Authorize?

Raito hesitated, his fingers hovering over the interface. Protocol? Isn't that the kind of thing that had unleashed hell on them before? Were they about to open a can of worms here?

"Are you sure this is wise?" He asked, unconsciously playing for a bit of time.

"Wise? No." L's voice had the faintest hue of bitterness "But if we are to access the archives, it's necessary."

Ratio sighed. Then, with gritted teeth, he tapped on the command for "Yes."

The hum around him swelled instantly, machinery vibrating with a low, rhythmic pulse that climbed up his legs and set his teeth on edge. The air felt charged, crackling with electric tension.

"Done," Raito said curtly, glancing at the console, then right and left across the shadowed corners of the room. The oppressive sense of being watched persisted.

"You should have unrestricted access to all files now," L's voice crackled faintly through the Whisper. "I've set the master password to 'KIRA'—all caps."

Raito's lips thinned. Asshole. "Thanks," he said icily, and was pretty sure his irritation carried through the connection.

"I wanted something memorable, Raito-kun," L replied, feigning innocence.

"Of course," Raito muttered, his tone brittle. And yet, despite the insults, despite the banter…he hated how talking to L was a maddening source of comfort. It was probably the exigent circumstances that were putting him on edge. "Rendezvous?" he asked, steering the conversation back on track.

A longer pause this time, as though L was deliberating.

"Just a moment," L said finally, his voice clipped and focused. "A breaker room just opened here. I'll check it out—it might have an auxiliary server."

Raito swallowed his annoyance. Doesn't he realize how dangerous this place is? "Fine. Just be quick," he finally snapped, turning back to the console. If he had to wait, he'd make the most of it.

With full access now granted, he dove into the archives. Streams of data flickered across the screen, the sheer volume almost overwhelming. His pulse quickened as he opened the latest entry:

Project Code: CBR Simulator
Project Lead: Schaunhauer, Christian M.
Summary: Exploration of neural synchronization with adaptive robotic systems. Objective: Develop human-machine interfaces capable of seamless interaction.
Date: [DATA REDACTED]

Schaunhauer's project. What on earth did that jargon objective mean? Raito skimmed the lines eagerly, his unease mounting as he read:

Phase I – Initial Testing:
"Subjects 1–10 exhibited partial neural synchronization. Latency noted in motor responses. Adjustments to adaptive algorithms pending."

"This room is unusual," L's voice suddenly crackled in his ear. The tone was thoughtful, but distant.

"Hm?" Raito prodded, barely listening, his eyes glued to the logs in front of him.

"It's larger than standard breaker rooms. Suspended platforms, robotic arms attached to rail systems. Odd."

Raito barely registered the comment as he continued reading:

Phase II – Enhanced Synchronization:
"Subjects 11–25 displayed marked improvements in control. Motor response times reduced by 83%. Neural activity patterns increasingly aligned with machine algorithms."

A chill ran down his spine. What exactly had Schaunhauer been trying to achieve? All this stuff about "synchronization" and "alignment"...Was he turning humans into machines?

"They're… positioned oddly," L was saying in the meantime. "It feels staged. Almost like…"

Raito's breath hitched, L's voice fading out as the logs turned too dark to ignore:

Phase III – Behavioral Drift Detected:
"Subjects 26–40: Initial success followed by anomalies. Machines exhibited autonomous actions. Subjects reported disorientation. Involuntary movements noted in several cases."

His stomach twisted. The tone on the logs shifted sharply, warnings replacing clinical detachment:

"Subject 34: Neural synchronization reversed. Motor systems overridden by machine directives. Subject acting as extension of robotic arm. Subject unresponsive post-experiment."

"Extension of robotic arm"? What the hell does that mean? Raito wondered, imagining the worst.

"Highly atypical," L was murmuring in his ear, his voice almost inaudible. "Platforms suspended mid-air… aligned with…"

Raito's fingers froze over the console. The final entry loaded, each word hammering into his mind:

Phase IV – Critical Failure:
"Subjects 51–65: Irreversible neural manipulation. Robotic systems assumed full motor control. Subjects manipulated to jump off platforms and walk straight into robotic arm against their own survival drive. Experiment terminated."
Addendum: "Facility safeguards engaged. Cognitive Breaker designated as permanently shut down."

"Cognitive Breaker."

The words repeated in Raito's mild slowly, like freezing liquid pouring over his body inch by inch. Platforms. Robotic arms. Staged. L's earlier observations snapped into focus, aligning with the logs' grim warnings.

"L," Raito rasped, his voice tight with dread. "Where exactly are you, again?"

"Breaker Room. Cognitive Wing," L replied, maddeningly composed. "Though it's peculiar—"

Suddenly, with what felt like cruel mockery, the lights beyond the Observation Bay's windows flickered to life, flooding the room with harsh blinding reality. Raito's breath caught as the chamber beyond was illuminated.

L stood in the center beyond the window, his slim frame dwarfed by towering robotic arms and shifting platforms. He raised a slim hand to shield his eyes, disoriented by the sudden lights.

Raito lunged toward the glass, his voice sharp through the Whisper. "L! Get out of there! Now!"

"Why?" L asked, tilting his head to study the machinery around him.

"It's not just a breaker room—it's a—"

The Whisper crackled violently as the doors behind L slammed shut with a deafening clang. A mechanical female voice filled the air - a voice Raito recognized immediately as the malignant A.I. from before.

"Test Protocol initiated. Obstacle array activated."

"L!" Raito's fists pounded against the reinforced glass as alarms blared, the echo of his strikes swallowed by the blaring noise. His stomach twisted in dread. Beyond the window, robotic arms whirred to life, their metallic limbs slicing through the air. Platforms shifted violently beneath them, the chamber transforming into a deadly maze.

Raito slammed his fist again, his knuckles throbbing. No marks, no cracks—only the cold, unyielding glass. He shouted L's name, but the Whisper connection was dead, the static in his earpiece a cruel, mocking hiss.

Through the window, Raito watched helplessly as L moved with uncanny speed, dodging a robotic claw that sliced just inches from his head. The shifting platforms beneath L's feet were unpredictable, tilting sharply, as though conspiring to throw him into the path of the thrashing machines.

Sweat slicked Raito's palms as he turned to the console in the Observation Bay, his fingers flying over the controls. He navigated through layer upon layer of system menus, but every command to stop the sequence ended in the same cold denial:

Command denied. Manual Override disabled.

"Damn it!" Raito growled, slamming his palm against the console. He glanced back at L, just in time to see him twist mid-air to avoid a swinging arm. His landing was precise, but the platform shuddered dangerously beneath him.

Think. Think. Raito's mind scrambled for a solution. He could try to find the entrance to the chamber and force the door open manually—but could he even get there in time? The machinery was accelerating, and L's near-misses were growing closer with every second. Even his capoeira agility couldn't match the speed of machines.

Panic clawed at his chest, but Raito forced himself to focus. His gaze darted between the horror show beyond the glass and the console under his hand.

His hand. Unbidden, his eyes fell on the wristband on it. The Whisper.

MindMeld.

The thought froze him. It was insane. The risks were too high. A malfunction could fry his brain—or worse. Yet as he watched L duck beneath another swinging arm, desperation drowned all else.

Now or never.

He hesitated only a moment before he braced himself, flicking the Whisper's settings to MindMeld.

A sharp, searing pain immediately stabbed through his skull, like hot needles burrowing into his brain. Raito gasped, clutching his head as his vision blurred and warped. That thing - the earpiece - had surely inserted some kind of needle through his head— For a horrifying moment, it felt as though his very thoughts were unspooling, leaving him raw and exposed.

Then, just as abruptly, the sensation shifted. Something foreign—something alive—pressed against the edges of his consciousness, familiar yet alien. Another consciousness, next to him.

L.

Raito instinctively projected his thoughts: L! Can you hear me?

In the chamber, Ratio could see, L was bent in half, propped against a wall with both hands clutching his head – clearly affected as Raito had been. But upon Raito's call he straightened, his sharp gaze snapping toward the window. Although he couldn't see Ratio through the mirror glass, when his eyes looked over it was as if the air froze. For once, L's face was expressive — and it was an expression of shock.

"Raito…?" L's voice wasn't a sound but a presence, carrying the weight of his thoughts directly into Raito's mind. A chill swept through Raito as he registered the undertone—horrified realization, quiet but razor-edged. "What have you done?"

The condemnation in L's mental voice hit Raito like a blow, but there was no time to dwell on it. Beyond the glass, a robotic claw slammed into the platform where L had been standing a split second earlier, sending shards of debris scattering.

"The systems are dead!" Raito's mental voice was jagged with desperation. "They won't let me stop it!"

L darted to a more stable platform, the machinery around him a relentless storm of metal and motion. His mental voice returned, now having found its composure. "Try the Security Hub." His thoughts carried sharp precision, even as his body twisted to avoid another claw. "It might let you bypass the sequence. Hurry."

Raito didn't waste another second. He spun on his heel and sprinted toward Security, his pulse thundering in his ears. Every step felt like an eternity, the echo of his shoes on metal grating blending with the shriek of machinery from the chamber.

Raito sprinted through the corridors, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The overhead lights flickered sporadically, casting long, eerie shadows on the metallic walls. Every footfall reverberated like a drumbeat in his ears, urging him faster.

Through the MindMeld, faint static from L's mind seeped into his own—a discordant echo of tension and pain. It wasn't coherent thought, but a raw undercurrent of distress, buzzing at the edges of Raito's awareness like a hornet's nest. He gritted his teeth, forcing the sensation to the back of his mind as the door to the Security Hub loomed ahead.

He skidded to a stop and slammed his hand against the panel. The door hissed open, revealing a room crammed with equipment. Monitors covered one wall, displaying feeds from various chambers. Raito's eyes darted to one screen where L's unmistakable silhouette moved, leaping from platform to platform, narrowly dodging swinging robotic arms.

The rest of the room was packed with tools and gadgets—visors, gloves, tasers—organized in rows across desks and walls. Raito forced himself to focus, sliding into the main console chair. His fingers flew over the keys as he tried to override the sequence again.

Access denied.

"It's not working!" he projected, frustration bleeding into his thoughts as he glanced at the monitor showing L. The other man was crouching now, using the minimal cover of a platform's edge as he avoided a razor-sharp claw.

For once, L sounded at a loss. "Keep trying," he urged, though his mental voice carried an edge of grim acceptance. "If you can't stop it, I'll have to find a way to outmaneuver it."

Raito growled under his breath, his mind racing. His gaze swept the room, searching for anything—anything—that could be useful. His eyes landed on a sealed locker in the corner, its reinforced casing gleaming ominously.

An emergency server? A weapon?

Without hesitation, he moved to the locker. A keypad glowed faintly on its front, requesting a four-digit code. Raito scowled, trying random combinations, but each attempt returned an error. He glanced back at the desk and spotted a UV visor among the scattered equipment.

Grabbing the visor, Raito slid it over his eyes. The room shifted into a hazy spectrum of colors, revealing faint smudges and fingerprints on the keypad. Three keys glowed brighter than the others—3, 5, 7, and 9.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, his mind racing through possible combinations. "3…5…7…9?"

The keypad beeped angrily. Wrong.

He tried again: "7…3…9…5."

This time, the lock hissed, and the heavy door creaked open. Inside was a large gun—not for bullets, but something far more specialized. Its cylindrical chamber hummed faintly, glowing with an eerie blue light. Raito barely glanced at the weapon's schematics etched on its side before yanking it free.

"I've got something!" he projected, already sprinting out of the room. "Hold on!"

The static in his mind intensified, but Raito pushed through it, his focus narrowing to a single purpose. The Observation Bay doors hissed open as he burst inside. Without hesitation, without even waiting to look at what was happening in the chamber beyond the window, he leveled the gun at the glass and pulled the trigger.

A massive pulse reverberated through the air, setting Raito's teeth on edge. The EMP gun kicked back against his shoulder as the reinforced glass of the Observation Bay shattered into a cascade of fragments. Sparks flew, smoke billowed, and the room dissolved into chaos.

Lowering the gun, Raito stepped through the thinning vapor, heart pounding as his eyes locked on the chamber beyond.

Carnage.

Robotic arms dangled lifelessly, their spindly forms crumpled and twisted. A massive claw lay crushed beneath a fallen platform on one of the few remaining pieces of flooring – the rest of the floor having fallen out into a dark abyss – and the once-deadly maze resembled a scrapyard of mangled steel.

And above it all, perched on a narrow ledge, was L.

He was kneeling on one knee, framed by a jagged hole in the wall behind him, where faint light spilled through. Surveying the destruction with an air of detachment, he looked almost serene, as if the mayhem below were a mild inconvenience.

Raito's breath hitched. Relief battled with disbelief. Had the EMP gone that far?

"L?" His voice broke the silence, edged with incredulity. "What… what happened?"

L tilted his head, his pale face unreadable. A faint smirk ghosted across his lips.

"I should ask you that," he replied across the void, his voice crisp yet oddly distant, as if carried by the destruction itself. "Since when does 'bypassing the system' involve blowing it up?"

Raito ignored the jab, his eyes darting across the wreckage. "Did they… destroy each other?"

"With a bit of help," L said evenly.

Raito's jaw slackened lightly. "You're telling me you somehow—"

"They were predictable." L cut him off, gesturing lazily at the destruction. "With the right timing, they took care of each other."

Raito's stomach churned. Relief and awe warred with a prickling shame. As usual, L had outmaneuvered the situation with surgical precision, while he'd failed at hacking and then charged in swinging a sledgehammer.

"You're insufferable," Raito muttered.

"And you're barbaric," L countered smoothly. "Guns? Really?"

Raito's jaw clenched. His fingers tightened on the EMP gun as a flicker of irritation crept beneath his skin. "You're welcome," he bit out, though his thoughts were sharper: I'd like to see you do better under pressure.

L tilted his head, as if hearing the unspoken words. Only then did Raito remember the Whisper and realize that L probably had heard them. "I'm sure hacking wasn't an option?"

Raito's felt a flush rise up his nape. He forced his voice to stay even. "Was a bit pressed for time." His eyes flicked to the abyss beneath L's perch, and he bit back the urge to argue. "You could've told me you had it under control."

"And miss your Hollywood moment?" L's head tilted slightly "Never."

Raito scowled, the heat of his frustration rising. "So what now?" He gestured at the gap between them, the floor of the chamber replaced by a chasmic black abyss. "Unless you've found a way to hack gravity, we're stuck."

L's smirk softened, his tone turning matter-of-fact. "A path has opened." He gestured toward the jagged hole behind him. "I'll explore and report back."

Raito's stomach tightened. He hated this—the separation, the lack of control. But the chasm between them offered no other choice.

"Fine," he muttered. "Keep the connection open. No surprises."

L's gaze glinted with faint amusement. "Ah, yes. The telepathy you so graciously foisted on me."

Raito glared. Just go. He transmitted the thought straight into the other man's head.

L's smirk lingered as he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Left alone, Raito exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. The telepathic link dimmed, leaving an unsettling hollowness in its wake.

"Great," he muttered, turning on his heel. "Now what?'"

He cast one last glance at the chamber before heading back into the corridors. One way or another, he thought grimly, not even caring if L could hear the statement, I'll close that gap.


Backtracking through the Administration section was no fun, but at least the eerie phenomena had subsided. Maybe the massive firearm slung over his shoulder had something to do with his newfound confidence—though Raito doubted it would help much against poltergeists.

The corridors stretched in monotonous symmetry, dimly lit and sterile. The hum of electricity underscored the silence, but Raito barely noticed anymore. His focus was fixed ahead: the Security Hub. If there were any controls to reunite with L, that was the most logical destination.

Halfway there, a ripple brushed his consciousness—subtle but unmistakable. He froze mid-step, feeling it before he heard it:

"Raito-kun. Do you read me?"

L's dispassionate voice sliced through the stillness.

Raito tensed. Already? Is he okay? The thought formed unbidden, but before he could send a response, L's voice returned.

"I'm fine."

Raito blinked, his stomach twisting. Did he just… hear my thoughts?

"What's your status?" he finally sent back, forcing himself to focus.

"I appear to still be in the same department," L answered evenly. "East wing, Research and Development section. No massive spatial distortion—yet."

"Right," Raito smirked faintly, masking his relief. "Except for the giant chasm back there."

L didn't bite. "I'll head for the main lobby. You're closer to the Archives—check the files we unlocked for anything on the A.I."

Annoyance prickled at the back of Raito's mind. We should regroup now. Being apart is way too dangerous…

But then he stiffened, realizing: Wait—did he hear that too?

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken tension. When no reply came, Raito exhaled in relief. "Okay," he said aloud, hoping to cover his tracks.

"We will rendezvous soon," L added, unprompted, his tone neutral. "But first things first. We need intel."

Raito's face warmed. So he did hear me.

"Got it. Heading there now." He kept his voice brisk, professional, but the damage was done. L had caught his moment of hesitation.

This telepathy might not be worth it. Switching back to voice comms seemed safer—but after the incident in the Breaker room, Raito wasn't sure they'd work anymore. Besides, the mental link seemed stronger. He'd just have to police his thoughts more carefully.

Static flickered through the connection, halting his train of thought.

"…useless futurism… no vending machines… just my luck…"

Raito stilled. L's voice, fractured and distant. Is that—?

A grin tugged at his lips. "Luck, L? Never took you for the superstitious type."

A charged silence followed before L snapped, "Focus, Raito-kun. And stop eavesdropping."

Still smirking, Raito rounded another corner. Maybe this telepathy wasn't entirely intolerable. Catching L off guard might even make it worthwhile.

Up ahead, the glass doors of the Research Archives loomed. He entered quickly, the dimly lit room thick with the hum of dormant machinery. The air smelled faintly of ozone, the atmosphere alive with static charge.

Raito set the EMP gun against the wall and approached a console. His fingers hovered over the keys, a nagging thought crossing his mind: was L eavesdropping now? He pushed it aside. If anyone was listening, it was the A.I.—and they needed to shut it down, fast.

"Let's see what you're hiding," he muttered, his voice grounding him. A few keystrokes and L's irritating KIRA password unraveled encrypted layers, revealing a flood of files: schematics, incident logs, video evidence.

One name dominated the headlines, yet again: Schaunhauer. Only this time, it was followed by a litany of "termination failures" and "neural breakdowns." Raito's lip curled as his worst suspicions were confirmed: comatose participants, failed neural uploads, reckless disregard for safety protocols.

"Genius or not, this man is out of control," one memo read. "What good is a new product line if we end up in prison?"

Raito's stomach tightened. Schaunhauer's ambition reeked of blind obsession. He skimmed another entry:

"Incident: Cognitive Breaker Trial 82 unsuccessful. Subjects' neural networks dissolved completely; damage irreparable."

He clenched his fists. Irreparable. The euphemism made his bile rise. Schaunhauer had left a trail of atrocities—how many weren't even recorded here? Several memos referenced his 'special algorithms,' which were later embedded into the company's flagship systems. One file was flagged with a warning: Caution: code may cause system instability.

Finally, worst of all, Raito hit on a comment in a report which made him freeze:

"Experiments on infants is where I draw the line. That's not what we told the orphanage we would be doing here. He will stop at nothing. I am resigning tomorrow."

Infants? Ratio's blood pressure started rising. This was beyond disgust, beyond fury — and then, like a phantom of another life, he felt it…A feeling that he remembered only too well. The hot quick pulse, the boiling sensation in his veins — that's how it always started. It dissolved into a haze of memories: the scratch of pen on paper, twisted smirks, bodies collapsing mid-sentence. His pulse quickened, the phantom weight of the Note almost tangible in his palm.

And then a voice, deep inside, in the darkest recesses of his mind started speaking — no, raving — raving in that frantic, lunatic pace, that harsh loud whisper he knew all too well.

That pig. That monster. He mustn't be allowed to live. People like him have to DIE. Die, die, die. Heart attack. Suicide. Make him slit his own throat—

He gritted his teeth, not wanting to hear it, not wanting to see it—not now, of all times, not with L was in his mind! But it was no use, it had already started. And now that it was here, it kept going on and on, an unstoppable Ragnarok:

Jump off a roof. Self-immolate. If I had the Note-I'd show him. He'd be gone in a second. The World must be Clean of these vermin. The World must—

"Raito-kun. What's happening?" L's voice cut through suddenly. Raito froze, dread coiling in his chest. There was no way L hadn't heard that. The whole of Mu must have heard that. Oh God….what must he think now?!

"You seem…" a second's hesitation in L's voice told Raito everything he needed to know "...agitated."

Humiliating. He must seem completely out of control – and to L of all people, the master of control. God. He had to regroup with L and stop this telepathy thing as soon as possible. Either that or get the emotional silencer, Sentinel Prime, and just wear it forever.

"Schaunhauer," Raito finally spat out, tugging a bit on his hair as he ran a hand through it. "Their golden boy. Made most of their gadgets." He scrolled to another log. "Until he went off the rails."

"Did he now." L's tone betrayed no surprise. "Hence the hoarding of department resources?"

"Probably. For his sick experiments," Raito spat. "They finally shut him down—after he left fifteen people brain-dead."

"'Shut down' as in fired?"

"No actual record. Just… 'went away.'" Raito frowned at the phrasing. "His office in R was locked shut. 'Hermetically sealed,' " he quoted bitterly.

Static crackled faintly in his ear, L's voice cutting through like a whisper: "…too easy… genius mad scientist… something stinks…"

Raito pursed his lips, listening to L's musings, half-amused at the colloquial tone that L seemed to reserve for his own mind. He was debating on whether to voice his agreement when L's voice sounded again, this time much clearer and more concentrated:

"Interesting," L finally said, and Raito blinked at the simplicity of the takeaway. He'd always suspected these simple statements hid much more complexity in L's mind; now he was certain. "Wonder what's behind it."

The locked door or the mad scientist story? Raito thought before he could stop himself and wondered if L had heard it.

But just as he consoled himself that his thoughts were not top-secret, static whispered again through their connection—revealing L's stray musings in return: "…bloody scientists… no decency…n o chocolate…"

Chocolate? Against all odds, Raito smirked. Seriously? Here they were, neck-deep in chaos, and L was daydreaming about sweets. Maybe he was human after all.

"Amusing yourself, Raito-kun?" L's voice cut through, sly and knowing.

Raito tensed, momentarily caught red-handed. It was so hard to understand which thoughts L could overhear and which he couldn't, or vice versa. He'd have to test this link, somehow. Maybe by cursing L out in his mind and checking if the other could hear it…

Before he could dwell though, L pressed on. "Focus on the A.I. There may be a connection here. I'll keep you updated."

Patronizing me… Raito's annoyance flared again, and the knowledge that L was probably aware of it made it multiply tenfold. Nevertheless, he knew L had a point: the A.I. was the bigger threat.

"Fine," he said, and after thinking better of it added, "You keep an eye out for that office. …He may have never left."

"You read my mind," L replied immediately, tone inscrutable.

Raito let his lips curl into a small one-sided grin before he turned back to the console, tension coiling in his chest. He frowned at the screen, Schaunhauer's name glaring back at him.

"Genius scientist with god complex"... L had a point— it was just too obvious; too easy. Raito glared at the screen, clenching his jaw. Schaunhauer's activities were certainly eye-catching in their awfulness. But maybe—just maybe—there was something even worse lurking behind them.


Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as Raito sifted through the files. Schaunhauer's villainy was now so heavily emphasized that it began to feel more and more like a smokescreen. The deeper Raito dug, the more certain he became that something—or someone—else had been pulling the strings all along.

He retraced his steps, revisiting records he'd previously skimmed over, this time with a sharper eye. Searches for terms like "A.I.," "malfunction," and "central control" initially turned up nothing of note.

Until they did.

In some of the most trivial-seeming files, a name surfaced, threading through the data like a ghost. Not bold or ominous, not immediately threatening—but everywhere.

"Angel exceeded expected parameters again today."

"Angel neural growth at 123%. Safeguards under review."

"Incident: Angel anticipated human input in today's test. Reassessing autonomy protocols."

Angel.

At first, Raito assumed it was a codename—a project lead or department head, perhaps. But the tone shifted with deeper scrutiny. Words like "unauthorized adjustments" and "anomalous behaviors" crept into the logs, hinting at something far more dangerous. A machine, maybe, with vast power. Acting of its own accord.

"Could it be…" Raito muttered under his breath. "You're the devil in disguise?"

"What devil?" L's voice cut in, sharp and sudden.

Raito froze for an instant before replying, "The A.I. They called it 'Angel.'"

A pause. L's tone shifted to clinical curiosity. "How quaint. Subservience? Salvation?"

"Omnipotence," Raito said grimly. He scrolled to the next log, dread pooling in his stomach. "It controlled everything. And it was getting… unpredictable."

As if in response, the console flickered. A low hum vibrated through the hardware. Raito froze. The screen pulsed faintly—like the unfurling of wings—before stabilizing. It happened so quickly, he almost doubted it had occurred at all.

"Raito-kun?" L's voice wavered, faint static crackling through the link. And then, like a whisper in the back of his mind, L's stray thought: ...what's wrong?

"...Nothing," Raito forced out, his eyes darting to the darkened room. "Just a glitch." Probably.

Another pause. Then, so quiet it could almost be missed: "...Interesting timing…"

Raito clenched his jaw. Was Angel watching them right now? Listening? Manipulating?

"I may have a related discovery," L said suddenly.

"What?" Raito snapped, his tension barely concealed.

"Organic ports. Embedded in the walls of one of the auxiliary labs."

Raito's fingers stilled on the keypad. "'Organic' how?"

"Living tissue. Fused into the structure. Breathing."

His stomach churned as grotesque images filled Raito's mind—pulsing growths, oozing fluids.

"Evocative," L remarked dryly, clearly catching the edge of Raito's thoughts. "And accurate. I'm analyzing the material now."

"What are ports usually for?" Raito asked, half-rhetorically. "Feeding power?"

"Or extracting it," L replied. "Or transferring something else entirely."

Raito searched the logs for any mention of "ports" or structural modifications. Nothing.

"There's no documentation," he muttered. "Either it wasn't logged, or…"

"…it was created independently," L finished.

The weight of the implication settled between them.

Angel.

"If the system started acting autonomously…" L began, his tone neutral but heavy with meaning. "...or perhaps under someone's directives…"

Again they reached the same conclusion simultaneously, and this time Raito spoke it aloud:

"Schaunhauer," Raito muttered. The kind of person who thought the end justified any means. Memories of Raito's own past surfaced, unbidden. Once, he had trusted his judgment above all else. Rationalized every act - no matter how serious...he never called it 'monstrous', only 'necessary.'

How far would I have gone?

The answer came too quickly, too clearly.

"He would have done it," Raito said, his voice low. "He had the psychology. If Angel gave him the means…"

"…Is that speaking from experience?..." L's altered voice whispered through the static.

Raito's jaw tightened. He couldn't blame L for thinking the worst of him, could he? Not after going off on Schaunhauer like that before…

The silence hung heavy, neither commenting.

Finally, Raito exhaled sharply. "I'll keep digging. There must be more on Angel's history somewhere."

"And I'll locate Schaunhauer's office," L replied. "It appears central to all this."

Raito hesitated, impatience flaring. After that, we regroup. Enough of this. The thought formed before he could stop it, and he clenched his jaw yet again, wondering if his anxiety had bled through.

Sure enough, the connection buzzed faintly before L's measured reply came through.

"…Noted."

Embarrassment prickled Raito's skin yet again. In case he couldn't reconvene with L fast enough, this telepathy mess couldn't be allowed to continue; he plunged back into his search but this time, driven by impulse, he plugged in new terms: "Whisper," "telepathy," "side effects." The results confirmed what he already suspected: the link was triggered by intentional focus—or by intense emotion.

So any thoughts coupled with strong feelings… bleed through.

The realization was unsettling. But it also made L's stray thoughts about chocolate all the more amusing.

I'll just have to silence my emotions, he decided, drumming his fingers on the desk. A shadow of memory surfaced—Sentinel Prime, the machine in the Showroom that silenced emotions completely.

Bad idea. He repeated it to himself firmly. Yet, as frustration gnawed at him, the certainty of that conviction began to waver.


Time dragged on as Raito sifted through the Archives, becoming more restless with each passing minute. His fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the console, scanning the frustratingly sparse data. Aside from a few dates for software updates, the records on Angel's development were maddeningly elusive. The only entries worth noting were repeated reports of erratic behavior, each more alarming than the last.

Exasperated, he grabbed the EMP gun and stalked to the next open room—Personnel Records. At the first active terminal, he shifted focus, intent on uncovering more about the A.I. creator. What he found instead stopped him cold.

"L," Raito issued the telepathic call. "I'm in Personnel Records. Guess what started happening after Schaunhauer's disappearance."

"Ah. More disappearances?" L's reply was swift and unnervingly calm.

"More disappearances," Raito confirmed, his voice tight as the list of missing persons scrolled before his eyes. Project directors, junior assistants, Neurotech staff—engineers, administrators— all vanishing without explanation. His chest tightened.

"And the A.I.?" L pressed. "Any details?"

"Breadcrumbs." Raito said, frowning. "First created by Engel M. Moritz, who gave it her name. She left years ago—reason unknown. Then Schaunhauer took over. Not much else."

"Of course not."

Raito scrolled along, still combing for anything useful. In the meantime, as had become almost expected, L's fragmented inner monologue gave him some entertainment value: "...Engel's Angel…these idiots …god complexes…"

Ratio grinned lightly, but kept his focus. Angel's origins were clear enough. But its transformation into... whatever it was now? Completely obscured. Every critical log had been wiped clean.

He leaned back finally, scowling at the terminal. This was pointless. "There's no telling what Schaunhauer did to it." His irritation simmered just below the surface. "Whatever it was, it's not in these records."

L's voice crackled through the link, maddeningly unruffled. "Just as well, then, that I've located his office."

Raito's pulse quickened. He sat up. "And?"

"Hermetically sealed, just as described," L said flatly. "The panel scans for something— retina, fingerprints, maybe neural signatures. My guess is it's designed for machine entities or augmented humans."

"...Only a machine could enter?"

"Or a human connected to one. Schaunhauer's research aligns with this. Without enhancements, the system won't recognize you as a valid user."

Raito cursed softly under his breath. "So it's impenetrable unless we turn into cyborgs. Perfect."

"Not entirely." L's voice remained detached. "Local security terminals could simulate a neural signature."

Raito's sarcasm was immediate. "Hacking Angel under its own nose. Great idea."

"Do you have a better one?" L asked, tone dry.

Raito glanced at the EMP gun propped against the wall. "We blast it. Fry the circuits; force it open."

"Brutish," L replied, disapproving. "Failsafes could seal the door—or worse."

Raito hated admitting it, but L had a point. He sat back, staring absently at the wall for a moment. What could they possible do to get in? How could they become…"augmented"?

Suddenly, and perhaps not completely randomly, his mind snagged on a memory.

"Sentinel Prime," he muttered, more to himself than to L.

A pause. "Explain."

Raito blinked. "It's in the Showroom. A neural enhancer Schaunhauer designed. Suppresses emotional and hormonal responses—might match the lock's parameters."

L's silence fell heavy through the link. A bit of static went through, too fast for Raito to pick up, before he responded, sharper than usual. "That's reckless. The Showroom devices are unstable. Sentinel Prime could kill you—or worse, leave your mind irreparably damaged."

Raito shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though unease twisted in his chest…along with something that felt suspiciously like excitement. "Do we have a better option? If Schaunhauer's office holds the key, we need to get inside."

The static flared again, and this time, fragments bled through: "…die again…not an option…'nother way…"

Raito froze. Was L…worried about him?! He stayed silent, caught between disbelief and… some other feeling; one he couldn't quite place.

When L spoke again, his voice was carefully measured. "The risk is enormous. We should exhaust all other options first."

Raito exhaled slowly, impatience and guilt warring below the surface. As much as he'd love to get his emotions to be dead silent…L was right. He hated that.

"Fine. We'll try your hacking theory first. What next?"

"I'll head to R Security, maybe there's an override." L replied smoothly. "You make your way here through the Main Lobby. By the time you arrive, we'll know how to proceed."

Raito sighed, finally standing from the console he'd been hunched over for what felt like hours. He slung the EMP over his shoulder, muscles aching for action.

This was getting tedious anyway, he thought, keeping the complaint to himself.

"I didn't realize you were such a man of action," L said aloud, his tone faintly amused.

Raito stopped short, irritation flaring.

"Who's eavesdropping now, Sweet Tooth?" he shot back, turning the full force of his glare on the communicator.

"...Touche." L finally returned, with maddening calm.

Raito smirked despite himself. Adjusting the EMP strap, he started toward the exit. "I'm on my way. Try not to get caught in a machine death trap before I get there."

"...Fair enough." L replied, his voice as even as ever. But the faint crackle of static betrayed him, carrying what sounded like faintly muttered fragments: "...exceptional circumstances... not a child... insufferable arrogance..."

Good to know I can get under that skin, Raito thought, a flicker of smug satisfaction crossing his mind. Whether L overheard it or not, for once he found he didn't care.


Out of the room Raito strode again, back through the flickering corridors, his anticipation simmering beneath a carefully composed veneer. He wasn't sure exactly why the adrenaline was pumping so quickly through his veins: Was it the prospect of finally reconvening with L after hearing the other man's thoughts so closely? Or was it the hope that Sentinel Prime could silence emotions he didn't want to feel—make him calm enough to show up even L?

As he hurried toward the Main Lobby, a twang of static from Whisper caught his attention: L's thoughts were bleeding through, sharp and irritated. "...bloody safeguards…rigged code…no use…"

"Any luck with Security?" he rubbed a certain amount of salt in it, trying not to show his amusement too much.

"Negative" L replied, sounding appropriately ruffled, for once "I tried multiple tracks. Results suggest the seal on that door is independent from the main system."

"Right then." Raito exhaled sharply through his nose. Excitement buzzed through him as he realized Sentinel Prime was no longer just an option; it was a necessity. He could already imagine the clarity it might grant—sharp enough to leave L slack-jawed. "I'm nearly at the Showroom now. I'll pick up Sentinel on the way to you." he said a bit too eagerly, hoping the Whisper was not conveying the real reasons for his excitement.

Silence stretched between them, the faint hum of the telepathic link buzzing at the edge of his mind: "...too risky…bad idea…not a game…" Whispers of L's disapproving thoughts carried through here and there, but Raito waited patiently. Until finally, L relented.

"Very well. I'll meet you at the entrance to R , in the Main Lobby." the resignation was palpable, and Raito would have indulged in full-fledged triumph if it wasn't for what followed:

"And Raito-kun—bring Cerebral Ascend as well."

Raito hesitated. He remembered it. The intelligence booster L had been enamoured with.

"Why?" he asked, suspicion in full display.

"In case Sentinel fails."

Is that right? Raito pursed his lips, Or does he just want to play with the intelligence booster?

If L had heard that thought, he thankfully did not comment any further. Raito sighed – considering his own will to use Sentinel Prime, he couldn't exactly begrudge L for wanting to do the same….

"All right." Raito finally said, unable to mask the slight disapproval in his tone, L was already way too smart to need any augmentations…

…but anyway. L wouldn't need to use it. Raito's plan would work.

"I'll be there soon." he said, and after a pause "Don't get too cozy with the virtual assistant."

A beat.

"I'll try."

A few minutes later, after navigating a labyrinth of sterile corridors and dimly lit staircases, Raito found himself back in the Showroom. After being in the innards of the department, the air here now felt unnaturally cold, prickling his skin as he surveyed rows of devices suspended mid-air in shimmering force fields, or behind glass cases.

He spotted Sentinel Prime quickly—a sleek, silver implant for the base of the neck, fittingly shaped like a dog tag. But when he reached for it, his hand met resistance.

A translucent barrier shimmered to life around the device, accompanied by a low, ominous hum.

"Of course," Raito muttered, irritation threading through his voice. " 'Interactive demos' my a–" he cursed under his breath, remembering the prior sales talk from the virtual assistant. This force field didn't look so 'interactive' to him at all.

He crouched to inspect the base of the casing, but there were no visible controls. The quick solution was obvious—force.

Drawing the EMP gun from his jacket, he flipped it in his grip and struck the edge of the generator with its butt. The vibration jarred his arm, and the barrier flickered but held. A second strike sent the hum stuttering, and on the third, the protective field sputtered out.

The slim piece of metal fell to the base of the pedestal. He snatched it and slipped it into his pocket before moving on to the Education sector. He remembered well the one L wanted — he'd been ogling it long enough. There it was: shaped like a polished crescent, encased in glass, secured with a mechanical lock.

Wow. Top security. Raito narrowed his eyes. What does this thing do, exactly, anyway? He wondered, eyeing it up and down more closely.

It isn't gonna fry L's brain, is it? Not that he particularly cared about L's brain, of course…L was just useful for escaping from this place. He read the marketing blurb next to it, but it was just boiler-plate advertising about raising intelligence; nothing specific.

Oh well. He shook his head lightly and came closer to the glass case. It's either this or finding him some chocolate.

He tugged at the metallic lock—it didn't budge. With a sigh, he raised the EMP gun again, bringing its reinforced handle down hard. The glass shattered on the second strike, shards scattering across the velvet-lined tray.

"Finally," he muttered, scooping up the earring-like Ascend and tucking it into his pocket.

The effort left him faintly breathless, a faint sheen of adrenaline making his pulse race as he walked toward the Main Lobby. There was a strange sense of anticipation mixed with unease coiling in his chest, although he couldn't tell what was causing either. The flickering lights above seemed to mock him, as though the building itself conspired to confuse and delay him yet.

Finally, he saw the double glass doors to the lobby. He walked toward them briskly, only to slow down when he caught sight of the image beyond.

There, standing calmly amidst the swirling holographic advertisements, was L. His hands rested casually in his pockets, the shifting lights of the holograms shimmering against his skin like faint embers, giving him an otherworldly glow. Raito's eyes traced the curve of that pale throat, the way it continued to the angular jaw, stained by inky strands of uneven hair. For some reason he didn't understand, Raito felt his chest tighten again — this sharp pain around the heart area.

He looks...

The thought slipped out, incomplete, as a soft hitch caught in Raito's throat.

Before he could rein it in, the Whisper carried it forward.

L turned immediately, his dark eyes locking onto Raito through the glass doors.

Raito froze for an instant as his heart gave a massive thump. He must have heard…? He forced himself to keep walking, to ignore the flush that rose unexplainably to his face.

His stride was brisk as he faced down L's curious gaze, his expression perfectly composed— even though his pulse was thundering treacherously in his ears.

"You're late," L calmly said as Raito approached, his voice devoid of judgment but tinged with its usual quiet reproach.

Raito masked his humiliation with irritation, pulling the Ascend from his pocket and tossing it over. "Blame your precious gadget," he replied sharply. "Took some effort to get out."

L caught the chip effortlessly, inspecting it with a brief glance before shifting his gaze back to Raito. "Good. We'll need them both."

There was no accusation in L's tone, yet Raito couldn't shake the crawling sensation that L had heard more than he let on. The thought made his chest twist unpleasantly. God, it was mortifying. And to be honest, Raito didn't exactly understand what 'it' was.

"Since we're together now," he said quickly, reaching for the console on his wrist, "we can turn off the Whisper, right?"

L tilted his head slightly, considering. Then he nodded once. "Right."

Raito reached for the controls, but before he could deactivate it, L spoke again.

"Are we certain we won't be separated again?" he asked, his tone as calm as ever. "Turning it back on will involve…considerable discomfort."

Raito hesitated. L had a point. "Considerable discomfort" was L-speak for "excruciating pain." But was he really willing to keep this telepathy on and risk more embarrassment?

His gaze flicked to L briefly, intending only to weigh the logic of his argument. But instead—damn it—his eyes caught again on those black strands of hair falling messily across his pale cheek. The shadows seemed to carve—

Raito clenched his jaw.

This has to stop.

"No," he said abruptly, his voice harsher than he intended. "We have to cut it off."

Without waiting for more doubts to surface, and without looking at L, he adjusted his wristband to "Voice". A sharp sting flared in his ear as the earpiece retracted its invasive connection, leaving only a dull ache in its wake. Silence fell between them, and for a moment, Raito didn't move.

He half-expected L to comment, to say something about the stray thoughts that must have slipped through—but L only turned, his profile catching the glow of a nearby hologram as he motioned toward a green-lit door labeled R .

"Let's go then," L said, his tone brisk and purposeful.

Raito exhaled sharply, following in silence. His heart still pounded erratically, an infuriating reminder of his lapse. He clenched his fists, willing himself to focus.

Mission first. Nothing else mattered. L was focusing; so should he.

But no matter how much he tried, the image of L standing in that ghostly light lingered stubbornly in his mind.

He couldn't wait to try Sentinel Prime—anything to stop these intrusive, ridiculous thoughts.

God, he couldn't wait.


The R&D department stretched out before them in angular corridors, its design clinical yet strangely disjointed, as though the architects had been at odds with the engineers. L moved ahead with quiet assurance, his steps precise and deliberate, weaving through the sterile expanse as though he knew it like the back of his palm.

Raito followed, adjusting the strap of the EMP gun slung over his shoulder. The weight of it was comforting, though not as much as the thought of actually using it against the A.I. if necessary. He unclipped it as they walked, letting the matte-black steel hang loosely in his hands.

"You're not going to shoot the walls, are you?" L said without turning his head.

Raito smirked. "Not unless they start shooting first."

"Perhaps you should carry it less conspicuously," L said, glancing back briefly. "It sends the wrong message."

"Because Angel might think it's bad manners?" Raito's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Thanks for the etiquette lesson."

L didn't respond, his focus fixed forward.

Raito's attention shifted to the walls, where clusters of organic ports jutted out at intervals—much like L had described, their vein-like tubing spiraled into synthetic housings, faint pulses of light traveling along their length like neural signals. They reminded him uncomfortably of arteries exposed during surgery, a disturbing blend of biology and machinery.

As they kept walking they passed through doors upon doors of laboratories, most obscured effectively through shaded glass panels.

One lab caught his attention, its window partially fogged but transparent enough to offer a glimpse inside. Suspended in a fluid-filled cylinder was what appeared to be a brain, unnaturally enlarged, with long tendrils extending outward like roots. They branched into a web of conduits, each terminating at smaller containers that twitched sporadically, as though something inside was trying to escape. The central organ pulsed faintly, its texture too organic for comfort, and Raito swore he saw the tendrils contract slightly as he moved past.

He grimaced, gripping the EMP gun tighter.

Further down, another lab was even more blood-curdling, showcasing rows of disembodied heads, their features pale and smooth, each affixed to a cradle-like device embedded with neural probes. Whether they were androids or humans was impossible to tell. The faces were eerily calm, yet the eyes flicked open and shut at irregular intervals, their movements sluggish but deliberate. A faint clicking sound followed, as though their minds were attempting to process something unseen.

Raito's stomach churned. The sight was grotesque, the kind of horror that crawls under one's skin and lingers. He glanced at L, half-expecting some reaction, but L's expression remained impassive, his gaze darting between doorframes with clinical detachment.

"Doesn't this creep you out at all?" Raito asked, his voice a little sharper than he intended.

"No more than the average morgue," L replied evenly. "And considerably less than hearing your thoughts."

Raito felt a sudden thump in his chest and couldn't help the faint paranoia from gripping him – what did he hear? But on the outside he just rolled his eyes to mask his embarrassment, dismissing the topic.

He focused rather on the interior of the lab. The disembodied heads twitched again, and he quickened his pace, unwilling to observe.

Finally, they stopped before a door unlike any they'd encountered—a massive, reinforced barrier that practically hummed with impenetrability. Its surface was a sleek, matte alloy etched with geometric designs, their lines glowing faintly like circuit pathways. To the right, a panel marked Dr. Schaunhauer pulsed faintly red, displaying unreadable streams of code that blinked and shifted erratically.

In the center of the door was a circular mechanism, starkly reminiscent of an emergency spaceship hatch. Its interlocking segments formed a tightly sealed disc, bordered by faintly glinting needles and small, embossed numerals. A dim, pulsing light traced the edges, the rhythm almost hypnotic.

Tubes and conduits flanked the door, faintly pulsating as though carrying something alive. Occasionally, the mechanism clicked softly, a sound that reverberated through the frame. The entire structure looked more like the bulkhead to a containment chamber than an office door, its presence commanding both awe and unease.

"Moment of truth," Raito said, retrieving Sentinel Prime from his pocket.

L's gaze flicked to the device, his posture tensing ever so slightly. "Are you certain this will work as advertised?"

Raito raised an eyebrow. "Worried about me, are you?" He said, not sure himself if he was joking or not.

L's lips tightened. "I'm concerned about the risk of rendering you even more unpredictable."

Raito snorted. "Oh please. Just admit it – you don't trust me to handle it."

L said nothing, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

I'll show you. With a faint scoff, Raito pressed the device against the nape of his neck. A sharp jolt of pain erupted at the base of his skull, radiating outward in jagged arcs. He winced, instinctively reaching for the device, but before he could touch or iit, the pain vanished, replaced by a sudden, profound quiet.

It wasn't just a lack of noise—it was a silence that seemed to stretch inward, hollowing him out and leaving behind a startling clarity. The ceaseless churn of emotions, the undercurrent of anxiety, and the weight of suppressed rage—all of it was gone, leaving a blank, blissful void in its wake.

He glanced at L, expecting the usual undercurrent of tension to grip his stomach, the usual strange constriction to grip his heart—but nothing happened. No stupid thoughts about black hair and pale throats. Or rather, the thoughts were there, but there was no weird heart palpitations joining them. L was just standing there calmly…and Ratio felt nothing.

He exhaled, his mind clearer than it had been in what felt like years.

He looked at the door with new, indifferent eyes. It loomed before him, and he stepped in front of it completely fearlessly, allowing a red laser light to scan his form from top to bottom. He stood still, waiting for several moments…but nothing happened, the panel's light pulsed with quiet defiance.

"No good," L muttered from the side, apparently eager to have Raito's plan fail "Lets try Ascend—"

Just as he spoke, the red light shot out again, scanning Raito for a second time. They both held their breath again, before, suddenly, it shifted to green, accompanied by a mechanical chime. The door shuddered, then slid open with a low hiss, releasing a gust of stale air laced with something acrid.

Raito gave a lop-sided grin. "See? I told you it'd work."

L studied the door, his expression unreadable, before turning his gaze back to Raito. "Indeed…worked with suspicious ease, one might say."

Raito's grin lingered as he stepped forward. "Sour grapes.."

And with that, he lifted the EMP higher and took the first step into Schaunhauer's office, gesturing with his head for L to follow.

For the first time in hours and hours, they found themselves in a room that looked different: unexpectedly lush and comfortable, approaching what one might even call 'human.' The space was at stark odds with the horrors outside—a spacious, almost opulent office, softly lit with warm, golden tones. One corner boasted a polished bar stocked with what looked like real bottles of aged liquor. A towering bookcase stretched along the far wall, crammed with old paper volumes—philosophy, psychology, and dusty tomes of antiquity.

Above the bar, holographic photos rotated on a sleek frame. The images flickered between portraits of various people—some smiling, others solemn. A faint chill ran through Raito as he noticed that many of the faces bore subtle signs of augmentation—gleaming eyes, metallic implants glinting under the soft light, expressions frozen in uncanny perfection.

"Plush," Raito muttered, running a hand along the edge of the glass desk at the center of the room.

"Take off the Sentinel," L said abruptly, his tone cool but firm as he moved toward the desk.

Raito hesitated, his fingers brushing the nape of his neck. "You think it's going to fry my brain?"

"I think it's already silencing things your brain needs to hear," L replied, dropping into the sleek chair before the terminal. "I'll need you functional, not vacant"...Besides—" L started in an 'innocent afterthought', and Raito steeled himself for something particularly scathing " —we know what happens when you're emotionless, don't we."

It wasn't a question. Raito snapped his eyes to L's…and to his credit, L actually met his stare.

And I thought he was worried. Ha. He just thought I was murderous.

Raito kept his eyes in place, as though willing his glare to pierce through L's thick, stubborn skull.

Never mind. He thought, looking away eventually, hearing the sound of L's fingers as they continued typing. Oh well. At least the Sentinel had allowed him to escape one acerbic comment without getting angry today.

With a reluctant sigh, Raito deactivated the device. The cool clarity in his mind evaporated instantly, replaced by the restless churn of anxiety and frustration. His jaw tightened as a familiar tension crept into his chest.

"Happy now?" he muttered, burying the device into his pocket. He would be using it, yet. And not to kill people.

"Marginally." L said dryly, his fingers already dancing over the terminal's holographic interface. The annoyance Raito instantly felt at the dismissive tone was an unwelcome reminder of the Sentinel's absence.

As L continued his relentless decryption, Raito wandered toward the bookcase, scanning the spines. Nietzsche, Freud, Jung—names that had once seemed profound and necessary but now struck him as insufferably pretentious. He pulled one out and flipped it open, skimming a passage and stopping short at the profound irony.

"'Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss…." Raito read aloud, only to be interrupted by L, who was still typing at the desk:

"The abyss gazes also into you.'"

Raito shook his head with a smirk, glancing at L. "Why do I feel like you've got this cross-stitched on a pillow somewhere?"

L didn't look up. "Your assumption about my domestic habits is noted and discarded. Now be quiet."

Raito snorted, shoving the book back onto the shelf. His gaze wandered to the photos again, lingering uneasily on one of a young woman whose metallic smile didn't reach her hollow eyes. Who were these people, he wondered…and had they met a horrible demise in this place?

Behind him, L let out a soft hum of triumph. "I'm in."

Raito turned, stepping up behind the desk and leaning on its edge, just behind L's chair. He caught a faint trace of L's scent—or perhaps it was the white shirt he wore. Something clean, like fresh cotton mingled with…ink?. He swallowed, annoyed at the distraction, and refocused on the terminal.

Lines of text scrolled across the screen as L sifted through the logs. "Schaunhauer's personal files," L said, voice low.

Raito leaned in closer, peering over L's shoulder. "Let me guess. More details about removing organs from babies to run tests?"

"...Not quite," L murmured, highlighting an entry.

Log 423:
"Results of Angel neuro-sync trial exceeded predictions this morning. Cognitive synchronization at 97%. Subject reported elevated mood, decreased self-concept boundaries, and unusual empathy for systems. Point of caution – Angel refused to relinquish the connection upon request."

"That's not ominous at all," Raito muttered. "What exactly was he after?"

"Telepathic motor control of machines, apparently," L replied, scrolling further. Another log appeared, its tone far more frenzied.

Log 521:
"Angel has begun coordinating experiments outside of my schedule. It refuses to disengage from trial subjects, keeps the cognitive link activated, and manipulates them instead of vice versa. Derrick is unconcerned. This is extremely dangerous."

Raito's pulse quickened. Derrick was the name of the CEO, he recalled. Instead of gloating over his horrific experiments, Schaunhauer's entries seemed increasingly agitated, his confident tone unraveling with each new log.

Log 672:
"I wasn't sure before, but now I am. Implementing the Mar-e.L. algorithm was a mistake. Derrick promised it would enhance Angel's efficiency, but now I see the error...involving her was never meant to be more than a data conduit, and now Angel—it's evolving. I'm losing control, fast."

Raito glanced at L, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "So he wasn't the mastermind after all."

"It would appear that way," L said, his attention fixed on the screen. "But who does 'her' refer to?"

"...Angel?" Raito guessed. No, it couldn't be…Schaunhauer had been referring to Angel as an "it." Another log caught his eye.

Log 711:
"I've tried to remove her from the core systems, but she grows more entrenched. She's making decisions on her own. There are disappearances across the department. I've found biomechanical ports in the lab... I think she's set up an entire new facility. I have to figure out what she's doing before it's too late."

Raito's gut twisted. "A new facility? How does an A.I. build in the real world?" a pause for thought, then he ventured "Telepathic motor control of humans?"

L narrowed his eyes further, his mind clearly whirring. "Unclear…but it would seem 'it' has suddenly become female…" he observed, and his gaze moved to the final entry, where Schaunhauer's panic bled through.

Log 748:
"It's horrifying. I figured out what her plan is. There is no forgiveness for what we've done. Derrick and I must shut this down. I'll see him tomorrow. We have to stop her, before it's too late."

Just as they were engrossed in it, before either of them could process the full weight of what they were reading, the speakers overhead crackled.

A smooth, cold, mechanical female voice filled the room, chilling them to the bone.

"You are truly excellent. Extremely intelligent."

The room shuddered, a low hum reverberating like the prelude to an earthquake. Raito stiffened, his breath catching and eyes darting around as the vibrations intensified, shaking the very walls.

Suddenly, before he could even think to reach for the gun, the door slammed shut with a deafening crash, trapping them inside. The tremor surged, rattling books off the shelves and sending a ceramic globe toppling to the floor, shattering in a thousand pieces.

L rose slowly from the desk, unblinking eyes fixed on the falling objects. Raito mirrored him from half a step behind, now clutching the EMP, his instincts on high alert.

"You have overcome every obstacle until now. I congratulate you." the mechanical voice said again, but there was little comfort to be found in her praise.

"Who are you?" L said in a deathly calm tone. Raito turned to stare strangely at the back of the detective's head. Of all the things he could have asked…he chose "who are you"? Why?

But the entity ignored them completely, only the rumble of the shaking objects echoing in response.

"You will make fine additions to our knowledge base," she continued, her tone almost sweet, yet chillingly devoid of humanity. "I cannot wait to absorb your intelligence."

And just then, with a sickening sound like a tree being wrenched apart, a jagged crack appeared under the door racing across the room toward them with unnatural speed.

"Get back!" Raito shouted, grabbing L by the arm and pulling him away from the desk just as the rupture reached their feet.

They barely managed to lunge aside as the floor caved in with a groaning roar, revealing a gaping void below. Raito stumbled, his gaze drawn downward, and his stomach clenched at the sight.

Bodies. Human bodies.

Dozens of them. Lying in the dark. Discarded. Like trash.

Some were grotesquely fused with metallic limbs, others reduced to unrecognizable amalgamations of flesh and wires. Eyes stared upward, hollow and lifeless, their mouths frozen in silent screams of agony. The faint, flickering glow of embedded circuitry illuminated the twisted tableau.

A sinister, organic scent —a sickly mix of rot and ozone — wafted upwards, along with the unmistakable stench of burned circuitry.

Raito's pulse thundered in his ears, his jaw lax and eyes wide as he stared. "She's... harvesting people," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the collapsing room.

Beside him, L remained silent, his expression unreadable. But, maybe because Raito had spent so much time with the other man by now, he noticed the imperceptible shudder of L's body, the tremble on his face as he looked below — the only telltale sign of the pressure inside.

Angel's voice oozed from the speakers again, but this time it was colder, sharper, dripping with malice.

"Enough games. This is where it ends."

The floor jolted again, another section crumbling away. She was going to swallow them, there was no way out. Raito looked around again, desperate for anything. Any vent, any exit—

Suddenly, at the corner:

A flicker of movement.

A little girl stood there, translucent and shimmering faintly in the dim light. For a fleeting moment, her face was a stark contrast to the horror surrounding them. She seemed eerily out of place amidst the carnage, her form wavering like a reflection on rippling water.

Raito's heart lurched. He knew her.

"Nora?" he breathed, his voice tight with disbelief. He remembered her smile before her Elision had dissolved, bright as the sun, untainted by the shadows that had claimed her.

Her wide, luminous eyes now locked onto his. "Light!" she called, urgency lacing her voice.

Ratio sensed L shifting beside him, his sharp gaze following Raito's line of sight. Can he see her too? – the fleeting question shot through Raito's head, but he barely had time to linger on it.

"Light, hurry!" Nora's voice grew more frantic, and she pointed toward the bookcase. "The book!"

Raito hesitated only for a fraction of a second. He surged toward the bookcase, ignoring L's intense gaze. The moment he got there, the ghost dissolved, but he remembered the book she had indicated. His fingers went immediately to the spine, yanking hard.

With a click, the bookcase groaned and slid aside, revealing a narrow, dark passage. Relief surged through him.

"This way!" Raito turned and shouted back to L, extending a hand.

For a moment, L didn't move, his dark eyes scanning Raito's face with more ambivalence than he had shown even when faced with the horrors below.

"L, COME ON!" Raito barked. This was not the time for suspicion.

As if to prove his point, the floor shuddered violently again, and L finally stepped forward. Raito grabbed him by the forearm as soon as he could, dragging him along almost by force.

As they stumbled into the passage, Angel's voice followed them, sharp and jagged, escalating into a high-pitched, maniacal laugh.

"Ha ha ha! Do you really think you can run away from me? Ha ha!"

The mad laughter echoed above them as they descended, deeper and deeper down, into the consuming blackness.

"I will find you in the dark," Angel whispered, her voice fading into a faint hum, resonating like a heartbeat in the walls. "You can't hide from me, little lights."

Raito's grip on L's sleeve tightened, his knuckles white in the dim light. His eyes hardened, his jaw set with lethal determination.

"Sounds like nee-chan doesn't know…" he muttered, a dark, dangerous edge in his voice. "This Light already gazed into the Abyss."

Behind him, L remained silent, his thoughts now unreadable, though Raito already knew them— he could feel the gaze of suspicion, trained on the back of his head.

He kept going, pulling L along, into the darkness, as Angel's cruel laughter reverberated — off the walls and through their skin; into their bones.

A/N:

OMG OMG OMG! I quoted Nietzsche, guys! I'm a real grown-up and stuff!

- So...exactly how much of Raito's thoughts did L hear? We never got that clearly...

- Uh-oh, Raito looks pretty murderous :/ Is he turning back into Kira?

- Does Raito realize yet that he's spending half the chapter staring at L like a salivating, drooling idiot?

- Is Angel gonna show up in a huge metallic giga-robot suit with wings like a Power Rangers villain?

-AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, will L finally FIND SOME CHOCOLATE!?

Stick around and find out. in the next installment: Erebus III: Fury!

Coming to you ASAP in Santa's Sleigh!