The failures of the first half of his life flashed before Yulianka's eyes like scenes from an old film.
He'd come from an ordinary family, just another kid with no other way forward—studying endlessly for over a decade to get into university, finally graduating, finding a job. After several years of hard work and frugality, scraping together every cent of savings along with his parents', he opened a small veterinary clinic in Night Sea.
That same year, something seismic hit the medical industry—AI medical agents received official licensure from the Federal Health Department.
It wasn't just doctors who were affected. Veterinarians were hit too.
People could now consult online, get a diagnosis via video call, and use simple home diagnostic kits to upload data. The AI agents on the other side of the screen could instantly analyze symptoms, prescribe medication, and have it delivered to their door.
Efficient. Simple. No need to leave the house.
When home diagnostic devices gained injection capability, even the trickle of patients he had left disappeared.
His clinic's business tanked. Yulianka was drowning in stress.
At his darkest moments, he even considered ending it all—or walking into the street with a knife and stabbing strangers. If his life was this miserable, why should others be happy?
Then, one day, a speck of green light entered his body—and everything changed.
Back then, the Silence hadn't started yet. Inaya had brought her parrot to the clinic, and he noticed a flicker of green in her eyes. They chatted casually, and the girl couldn't help but share that she'd been taking a hypnotherapy workshop—lately, her results had been freakishly good.
One day, out of sheer boredom, she tried to hypnotize his receptionist.
When her perspective during the hypnosis entered Yulianka's mind, he was shocked—but it didn't take long for him to understand what was happening.
The Silence began soon after.
For the first time in his life, Yulianka felt powerful—like someone in control.
He used to control animals on the operating table—cats, dogs, birds, little hamsters—manipulating their bodies, holding their lives in his hands. That had been the one grim pleasure in his otherwise colorless career.
Now, it was different.
Now, he could control people.
Even those with abilities—augmented humans—were just pawns in his game, completely unable to resist.
This time on Night Sea No. 7, he happened to cross paths with that same hypnotist girl again—Inaya.
She was just another puppet to him. Through her, he could manipulate others with ease.
Controlling that young man who got off at the town station and made him gouge out his own eyes in a hallucination? That was just a warm-up.
Why let anyone disembark?
Keep them all on this train. A whole carriage full of toys, ready to be played with.
They were all terrified, trembling, looking up to him, trusting him, believing he was a real doctor. Willingly placing their bodies in his care, letting him slice and dissect as he pleased—it was a pleasure he had never known.
What a beautiful new world.
Kirill had been a friend from college. He knew Night Sea No. 7 well and had once mentioned that the old track looped in a circle. Luck was on their side—the switch had landed them on that circular track.
Let the train keep running in this eternal loop.
Then the girl with the mechanical arm spoke of a distant shelter far to the northwest—one where people could still speak.
But why go there?
This train was already perfect.
He'd had his assistant surgically remove his vocal cords on the very first day of the Silence.
He couldn't speak anymore—so there was barely any risk.
Maybe after a few more days of playing with his toys on the train, he'd redirect it toward that shelter.
Maybe.
Everything would depend on his mood. Not now.
But today, on the train, when that girl with the mechanical arm grabbed him and nearly tore him in half, he made a mistake.
He used the second green light in his body.
He'd found it when they were repairing the train. While the others were distracted, he sneaked back to the entrance gate and took it from the mutated turnstile.
The girl had destroyed the turnstile with her mechanical arm—but she hadn't taken the green light, probably because she didn't know what it was.
But Yulianka did.
He thought: one speck of green light had already made him this powerful. What if he had more?
When he absorbed the turnstile's green light, the one already inside him lunged at it like a starving beast, eager to devour it whole.
But he'd held it back.
He couldn't bear to let it go.
Maybe it would boost his powers—but Yulianka had bigger ambitions.
Controlling others' abilities was fine, but in the end, he still needed other people. What if he had an offensive power of his own?
The turnstile had looked ferocious—maybe its green light could unlock something more destructive.
But in the moment of crisis, as the girl nearly ripped him apart, Yulianka reflexively unleashed the green light he'd taken from the turnstile.
And something went horribly wrong. His body mutated beyond recognition.
The mutation did help him slip away from her grip.
But he couldn't return to normal.
His mind was slipping. Thoughts scattered. All he could cling to was one stubborn obsession: the train must not go to the shelter. It must stay on the loop. Forever—for him.
Now that heart was in her hands.
Yulianka looked at it, dazed.
She'd pulled it from his neck, maybe? Why was it even there?
He was suddenly taken back—years ago, in a summer classroom. The breeze came through the open windows as a professor held up a plastic heart model to show its structure.
The wind had been warm. He had been young. Life was still full of possibilities. He hadn't known what the future held.
That storm of memories only lasted a moment.
Then her mechanical fingers clenched tight.
Blood and flesh exploded.
Yulianka went limp, collapsing without a sound.
Pei Ran picked up the fallen actuator.
It was a simple device—just a slider switch, currently set to the left. The label had melted and was unreadable.
She slid it to the right, hoping it still worked.
She stood up, metal sphere on her back, actuator in hand, looking out into the night toward the dam, toward the direction of Night Sea No. 7.
The train was still lit, lying silent in the dark plains. The branching track ahead disappeared into shadow—no way to tell if the switch had changed.
Moments later:
CLANG—
CLANG—
CLANG—
The ringing of metal echoed through the crashing roar of the dam.
It was Aisha, sending the signal they'd agreed on.
W: "The switch has been reset."
"Yes," Pei Ran breathed out.
It hadn't all been for nothing.
She bent down and opened Yulianka's chest cavity, searching carefully.
Just as she expected—two points of green light. One shone brighter, the other dimmer, nestled beside where the mutated heart had been.
The bright one was probably Yulianka's original. The dim one—familiar—must have come from the turnstile.
Pei Ran stared at them, her fingers hovering inches away.
Last time, her green light had devoured the pipeline worker's with no side effects. But Yulianka had mutated after stealing from the turnstile.
The second green light in her body was stirring—restless.
Then the first one joined in, like it smelled fried chicken in a dream, jolting awake and racing through her veins.
She could feel them calling: Food! Food! Food!
Pei Ran steeled herself and reached forward.
The two green lights shot into her fingertip.
Her first green light lunged without hesitation, instantly devouring the turnstile's.
Then it paused before the other one—Yulianka's—hesitating, just like it had with the second green light from Shigeoya. It seemed like it couldn't digest it yet.
Yulianka's green light trembled and scurried into a corner, hiding.
No strange changes occurred in Pei Ran's body.
She stood in the night wind.
She didn't look toward the train. She turned instead.
The top of the Tangu Dam stretched out like the spine of a great dragon, cutting across the wide river, disappearing into the distance. Now it rippled like waves.
The reservoir was no longer calm. The water trembled with the dam's heaving body.
It was close to bursting.
Blackwell Base.
Hour 61 of the Silence.
The meeting in the small conference room had ended, but Marshal Veina and several other military members of the Temporary Council remained at the command center, reviewing Phase II of the shielding project.
But now, W was speaking about something else—something much more urgent.
"It was witnessed directly by my patrol drone. The Tangu Dam has been corrupted into a fusion entity. There's now a very high probability..."
Tangu Dam was the largest hydroengineering structure in the Federation, with the massive Tangu Reservoir above it. Veina immediately grasped the gravity of the situation.
"Will it collapse?" she asked.
"Yes," W said. "The dam is moving."
The statement was so surreal that everyone stared in disbelief.
W said no more. The main screen changed.
The camera seemed to be positioned at waist height, but from a high vantage point. The night-vision feed was crystal clear—showing the vast Tangu Reservoir, now churning violently.
Even more surreal—the dam itself, its concrete mass, was rising and falling like a living thing. Thunderous rumbles echoed one after another.
Everyone went silent.
Finally, Song Wan whispered, "It's alive."
"Yes," said W.
No one in Blackwell had ever seen a fusion entity this massive. And now it moved like a living creature.
W: "And not just alive. Based on its posture, it's moving toward the north bank of the Yala River. It wants to make landfall."
It sounded insane—but the evidence was right in front of them.
Everyone in the room understood what that meant.
If the dam moved to the shore, the reservoir would no longer be blocked. The water would flood downhill in a massive surge, obliterating everything.
W's voice remained calm: "Marshal Veina, I need immediate clearance to send warning alerts to all downstream residents. They must prepare for flooding."
The situation was critical. Every second counted.
Veina had the authority to approve it alone—and she did without hesitation: "Granted."
Someone muttered, "But what can they even do in such a short time?"
The flood would come too fast. With no vehicles, escape was nearly impossible.
Many in the command center turned pale.
The Sipu Plains were densely populated. Countless families lived downstream. Some here had loved ones there.
The room fell into heavy silence.
Someone whispered, "At least now they'll have time to say goodbye. Or pray, if they believe in anything."
Veina turned sharply toward the speaker.
No one else dared say a word—but they all knew it was true. Most people downstream wouldn't have time for anything more.
On the dam.
Pei Ran's wristband buzzed—an alert from Blackwell.
She opened it. A stream of images loaded.
The first showed the collapse of the Tangu Dam.
Next, floodwaters gushing out, swallowing everything.
Then: instructions for survival. People climbing to high ground. Using anything that floated—placing babies in plastic tubs.
Warnings about contaminated water, food shortages, disease.
There would be no rescue. People would have to save themselves.
Pei Ran flipped through them. Only an AI could've produced something so detailed in such short time—probably W again.
CLANG—
CLANG—
CLANG—
The metallic signal echoed up from below the dam.
Aisha again—just in case Pei Ran hadn't heard.
The track was ready. Night Sea No. 7 would leave soon.
And then Pei Ran saw it.
Far ahead, at the middle of the dam—where the surface rippled most violently—something strange was rising from the concrete.
At first, it was just a bulge. Then it twisted upward.
It looked like the upper half of a human body—still fused with the dam below.
It stretched its arms toward the north bank, screaming silently, writhing.
As it moved, the dam twisted with it, cracking open. Chunks of concrete broke off and tumbled into the river, sending up vast white splashes.
W said calmly, "Pei Ran, this place is going to collapse. You have to leave. Now."
Pei Ran stared at the massive concrete figure.
"W," she said suddenly, "you said earlier tonight that humans only care about power, and don't really care if others live or die. I want you to know—we may not be perfect. But we're not as terrible as you think."
W hesitated. "Pei Ran?"
But she was already running.
She ran full speed along the top of the long Tangu Dam—toward the massive concrete giant, away from Night Sea No. 7.