Solflare: The Painter's Secret-Chapter 96: Trust No One

Leon slid down the wall until he sat on the cold floor. The impact of his body hitting the ground echoed in the silent bunker like a distant bomb blast.

Pam!

He clasped his arms that wouldn’t stop shaking and squeezed them until the knuckles turned white.

Lieutenant Prince turned from the supply shelves and glanced at Leon with an unreadable expression in the low light.

Leon stared back, waiting for a word, a comment, or a criticism, but nothing came. Prince simply turned back to his inventory, letting the silence between them turn icy.

Leon’s fingers scrabbled for something to ground him and brushed against a small bag near his thigh, then pulled it closer.

Inside, his fingers closed around something cool and damp. He pulled it out and noticed it was a half-full water pouch that had its plastic slick with condensation.

He emptied it in three desperate gulps, the lukewarm water washing the taste of dust from his mouth. He crumpled the empty pouch and let it fall to the floor.

A sharp, stinging pain lanced through his palm as he tried to place the black book in the bag. He hissed and pulled his hand back.

"Oouuuch!" he whispered. The black book slipped and hit the stone floor with a thump and fell open, pages splaying.

Leon’s mind stopped when he saw new words appearing on a new blank page.

Trust no one. You’re being watched.

"W—" "Whoa!" His eyes widened, his mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as he shouted in his head.

He shifted his gaze from the words to Lieutenant Prince’s back, then back to the book. Slowly, his heart turned into a frantic drum in his chest as he leaned forward and grabbed the book.

He sat down calmly, placed the book on his lap, and stared at the message until the letters seemed to burn themselves into his vision.

’They are watching, huh?’ A fucken dirty idea glanced through his thoughts. But he shook his head, neglecting it with a smile.

He closed the book with a soft snap and looked at Prince again, then let his gaze wander over the oppressive bunker.

Just then, a comms unit built into the wall beside the bunk, which had been covered in a faint layer of dust and cobwebs, buzzed to life.

Brrzzzzz!

Its screen flared with harsh blue light, then sharpened into the form of Mr. Lee. His hologram flickered, then stabilized, towering over the small table like a vengeful ghost.

"You’ve reached the starting ground," a flat voice echoed from the hologram. "That makes you... minimally capable of surviving." The hologram paced a few steps forward.

Even as a recording, its eyes raked across the room with a cold gaze that made Leon’s skin crawl inward.

"The Part B of the Shattered Land runs on a simple principle: value for value."

’Value for value? Part B?’ Leon’s expression tensed, his shoulders tightening as he listened.

"You will be given objectives. And you will complete them. Succeeding here earns you points. The points can be traded for upgrades. That’s better rations, intelligence updates, or information. And sometimes tangible cash."

The image glitched, causing the hologram to pause. It moved and stopped just at Leon’s seated form. "Failure is not an option. It means death."

It stood there for a while, then turned its head toward the bunk, as if surveying the environment.

"Your wristbands are your lifelines and your leashes. They monitor vitals, progress, and compliance. Try to tamper with them," the voice deepened, "and you will be neutralized instantly. To dust."

Leon’s stomach lurched, his wristband suddenly becoming hot and heavy. Memories of the golden blast on the field flashed in his mind. Little by little, the band’s tightness seemed to increase.

The hologram of Mr. Lee continued. "Your first objective is to retrieve an artifact from an abandoned research center. It was overrun during the last wave."

The image flickered violently, dissolving into static for a second before it stabilized.

"It’s... it holds valuable atmospheric readings from before the wave spiked. You will bring it back. Coordinates are being transmitted to your wristbands now."

The image glitched again, the face of Mr. Lee fragmenting into digital squares. "You," the voice sputtered. "You have twelve hours to secure it."

With a silent blink, the hologram winked out, leaving the bunker in a heavy silence.

Dinnnnng!

A sharp chime erupted from Leon’s wristband. The screen lit up, casting a pale green glow on his face.

"This is several kilometers deeper into the poisoned part of this land," Lieutenant Prince said, tilting his gaze from his own wristband to Leon’s pale green face, and giggled faintly.

Leon stared at the red marker on the tiny screen. ’Twelve hours? Valuable atmospheric readings? Last wave?’ His face paled as thoughts tumbled over each other.

Prince walked to the sealed metallic door, then brushed his palm over a dusty sensor pad beside the entry lock.

Nnnngrrrooo...

With a tired groan of protesting hydraulics, the door slid open, revealing a new, darker passage carved into the rock.

"Threat level here is extremely high," he said in a low voice. He tilted his head over his shoulder and locked eyes with Leon’s. "So be careful with your actions. Don’t do anything stupid."

Sharp air flowed in from the new passage, carrying a persistent hum that vibrated and prickled along Leon’s skin, raising the hair on his arms.

Leon pushed himself up and followed the lieutenant into the walkway. Inside were scorch marks carved into the walls in sweeping arcs that seemed to carry a meaning Leon had no idea of.

Further in, Leon’s steps faltered when his eyes fell onto a human-shaped pile of ash and fused metal that lay against the wall.

One was curled in a corner; another also seemed to have been reaching for a sealed hatch.

Leon’s stomach twisted. He covered his mouth with his palms, then swallowed back the gag. ’Whatever did this didn’t mean to leave remains to be buried.’

"This place," Prince muttered, stopping to examine a blown-out console, scratching his chin. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then opened them wide, refocusing.

"The artifact should be in the control chamber. This way."

He moved, doubling his steps. Leon followed, trying all he could to let his eyes avoid the ash-shapes. They climbed a partially collapsed staircase that led to the top.

The control room was a graveyard of technology when Leon paused at its gate. Consoles lay dark and shattered, panels hung open with wires dangling like intestines, and a fine layer of grey dust covered everything.

Leon’s eyes scanned the room, then landed on the only object that seemed to be intact. "Isn’t it that hexagonal object pulsing in a faint blue light?" he said, pointing a hand in that direction.

Prince moved in that direction without hesitating and tucked it securely into a pouch on his belt.

"Objective complete," Prince stated in a flat voice. "Let’s move. Every second here multiplies the risks." He walked past Leon without waiting for a reply.

The journey back to the bunker remained in an absolute silence that seemed to swallow even their boots.

Leon’s mind replayed the images in a restless loop: the warped metal and the shadows of people who were no longer there.

The bunker’s door hissed shut behind them, sealing them in. Leon slid back down the wall where he’d stood before they left.

His knees drew to his chest as the coldness of the floor seeped through his suit. Sleep took him without his permission.

He had no idea how much time he had spent when a sense of danger jolted him awake. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird as his eyes snapped open.

A dark shape leaned over him, holding a jagged stone raised high in both hands.

"HEY!" Leon yelled, throwing himself sideways in a frantic scramble before his mind could reform action or paths.

The stone struck the ground where his head had been with a loud CRUNCH.

Chips of rock flew as Leon rolled to his feet. "Are you mad?!"