Nioh moved slower than the rest of the group.
He already had a rough mental layout of the underground lab, pieced together from the research logs and the patterns in the soundwaves still pulsing around him. The frequency of the beeping, the way the echoes bounced off the metal walls—it all pointed to one room: the clinical chamber.
That's where they'd be if they were really trying to reverse the effects of the Pink Fog.
He moved carefully, thinking. This mission was more than just another paycheck—it was a clash between profit and morality. The kind of dilemma most operatives ignored. But Nioh didn't ignore it. He just didn't let it slow him down.
As he neared the clinical room, the soundwaves intensified—faster, sharper, trembling with emotion.
"What's taking so long?"
"We're not the original team—I need to understand the framework or the subject will die."
"Don't listen to him, he's stalling. His father was the lead scientist on this project—he's lying!"
