Ryan's consciousness stirred, his eyelids fluttering open in slow, uneven blinks. A dull ache throbbed in his skull, his senses sluggish as he tried to grasp his surroundings.
Blurred shapes slowly came into focus—a grand, expansive room stretching out before him. Rows of long, metallic tables lined the space, with joint seating attached to their frames. The ceiling arched high above, faint lights embedded within, casting a cold, sterile glow over the chamber. Dust hung in the air, disturbed by his sudden awakening.
Where am I…?
His thoughts swam in confusion, piecing together fragments of memory.
A mess hall?
But wasn't I just…?
His body tensed as he attempted to lift himself up, pressing his palms against the smooth, chilled floor.
Pain flared across his cheek the moment he shifted, a sharp sting blooming along the left side of his face. His jaw throbbed, his skin rough and swollen.
"Urk—" Ryan gritted his teeth, a groan slipping out.
His legs—his entire lower body, really—felt battered, stiff, barely responding to his will.
"They hurt like hell," he muttered, taking a moment to breathe through the discomfort.
Then suddenly—
Tack.
A sharp, deliberate sound echoed through the silent room.
Click.
Creek.
Tack.
Ryan's breath hitched. His ears sharpened, picking up the distinct tack of something stepping against the metallic floor.
He wasn't alone.
"Something else is here…" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
Tack.
Tack!
The sound wasn't fading—it was approaching.
His heart pounded as realization dawned.
Whatever moved me here… must be strong enough to lift a grown man.
His fingers twitched against the cold floor, testing his strength. His legs refused to respond. He was trapped, unable to flee.
Tack.
Tack.
Tack.
The noise grew closer, the weight behind each step deliberate, measured.
What can I do?
He wracked his mind for options, but nothing came. He was defenseless. Vulnerable. His limbs might as well have been dead weight.
Tack.
Tack.
It's getting closer. What is it?!
Then—
The final footstep rang out, a distinct tack that clattered across the vast chamber before dissolving into silence.
Ryan held his breath.
From below, something rolled into his line of sight—a small robot, no taller than a human knee.
Its compact body was sleek, made of smooth, dark metal with an orange stripe running across its abdomen. It had a round, harmless-looking frame, its movements precise and mechanical. It almost looked like a toy.
Ryan, still supporting himself on his hands, stared at the tiny machine in disbelief.
Then—
"Hello, human," the small robot spoke.
Ryan's breath caught in his throat.
"Huh?" His voice cracked in shock.
His mind reeled. Is this… what I was running from?
He expected something monstrous, some grotesque, nightmarish entity. Instead—this?
The sheer absurdity of it left him momentarily speechless.
"He… Hey," Ryan stammered, his brain struggling to catch up.
"My name is Elain," the robot introduced itself in a neutral, synthetic voice. "How may I address you?"
"Ry… Ryan. Ryan Tyrglas," he finally managed to reply.
He swallowed, his throat dry. His muscles remained tense, unsure whether to feel relieved or more alarmed.
"Were you the one who brought me here?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes. You were unconscious when I located you. I transported you to a safer location," Elain responded matter-of-factly.
Ryan exhaled sharply, the puzzle pieces clicking into place.
No wonder my jaw hurts… This little guy must've dragged my already battered body here.
It was a miracle he hadn't woken up mid-transport.
"How long was I out for?" Ryan asked, already dreading the answer.
Elain's response came instantly.
"Not long. Only 500 years."
Silence.
Ryan blinked.
"Huh?" His voice was flat with confusion.
Did he mishear that?
500… what?!