Chapter Eight: Prisoners of the Origin Ring

After the golden light faded, a scorching wave of heat struck Kane’s face like a hammer. He staggered and fell to his knees, his knees hitting the searing metal floor with a dull thud. Opening his eyes, his vision was flooded with a blinding golden-red glow—the interior of the Cairo Molten Sun Core, far more terrifying than the mission briefing had described.

The air distorted as if it were a heated asphalt road. The vast cylindrical chamber’s walls were lined with honeycomb-like heat dissipation structures, most of which had melted away, flowing with dark red molten metal. At the center stood a half-melted device resembling a giant gyroscope—the core of the Molten Sun itself. Beneath cracked black ceramic armor, dazzling gold-white energy pulsed like veins. The entire space was filled with a high-frequency, teeth-grinding metallic fatigue sound, as if it might collapse completely at any moment.

Kane’s protective suit alarm flashed wildly, showing an external temperature exceeding 300 degrees Celsius and radiation levels lethal to an average person within ten seconds. Struggling to rise, the pocket watch on his chest burned hot, its countdown digits warped by the heat wave: 70:21:15:48. Time was running out—not just for this world, but for himself as well.

The memory crystal revealed coordinates pointing beneath the core—where a maintenance passage should lead to the quantum server array. But first, he had to cross this furnace hell.

“Dr. Aldrin’s clearance should still work...” Kane croaked, his voice cracked by the heat. Stumbling toward the nearest control panel, its surface deformed by the intense temperature, he pressed his hand against the biometric reader. To his surprise, the system gave a faint response:

[Emergency protocol activated. Residual cooling system functionality engaged.]

A sharp metallic scraping sound came from above as several cooling pipes, not yet fully melted, sprayed a thin mist of liquid nitrogen. The mist instantly vaporized in the heat, forming a barely passable corridor of low temperature. Without hesitation, Kane dashed into it.

The nitrogen mist condensed into ice crystals on his skin, instantly evaporating again—extreme heat and cold alternately torturing his nerves. The thirty-meter distance felt like a marathon. When he finally reached the maintenance passage entrance, his protective suit was fused to his scorched skin.

The passage descended vertically, a rusted ladder extending into darkness. Kane grasped the first rung; his palm instantly hissed as flesh burned. Gritting his teeth, he climbed down step by step. As he descended, the temperature gradually dropped, but another oppressive sensation grew—a strange vibration in the air, like subsonic waves from a massive machine, pressing directly on his internal organs.

After about fifty meters, the ladder ended at a circular airtight door. The ouroboros relief at its center was half melted, but the biometric system remained operational. Kane trembled as he pressed his palm against it.

[Identity confirmed. Welcome back, project leader.]

The airtight door slid open silently, revealing the scene beyond—Kane’s breath caught.

This was a perfect spherical chamber, about twenty meters in diameter. The walls were composed of countless hexagonal black panels, each etched with miniature ouroboros patterns. Suspended at the center was a transparent sphere three meters wide, filled with pale blue liquid. Inside the liquid curled a humanoid figure.

More precisely, a body bearing Kane’s own face.

“This... is the Origin Ring?” Kane staggered forward. The transparent sphere floated eerily about a meter above the ground, unsupported by any visible structure or piping. The “self” inside appeared just over thirty, younger than Kane now, naked, with countless hair-thin optical fibers piercing its spine and back of the head from the sphere’s inner wall. Its eyes were closed, expression terrifyingly serene.

Suddenly, soft blue light filled the sphere. A holographic projection formed above it—the image of Supervisor Thorne in black, but younger than any Kane had ever known.

“If you are watching this record, it means Carrier 71 has awakened,” the projection said calmly. “The Origin Ring is the core of the plan. This quantum state you embody carries the memories and pain of all timelines. Every ‘cleansing’ mission reinforces this closed loop.”

The projection pointed at the floating sphere. “He was the first volunteer and is the eternal prisoner. Without him, the entire system would collapse. And you, Carrier 71, are the closest to perfection in this iteration. You will succeed him at the end of this cycle.”

Kane’s blood froze. Was this the truth? Not only must he repeat this cycle, but he must become the next prisoner trapped inside the sphere’s agonizing core?

At that moment, the “self” inside the sphere suddenly opened its eyes.

What eyes they were—deep pupils shimmering with countless starlike points, as if bearing the memories of billions of cycles. Its lips moved faintly; no sound came, but Kane understood the word:

“Key.”

A brass key! Kane suddenly pulled it out. Almost simultaneously, the liquid inside the sphere churned violently! Countless data streams flashed like lightning within the fluid, and the entire spherical chamber began to tremble!

One by one, the black panels on the walls lit up, displaying live scenes from countless timelines: spore-laden smog over New York, corroded domes in London, nuclear flashes over Tokyo... all disaster scenes presented simultaneously, spinning like a kaleidoscope.

The “self” inside the sphere suddenly raised a hand, pointing to a corner of the room. Kane turned to see an unassuming key-shaped recess in the wall.

“You want me to... free you?” Kane murmured.

The self inside the sphere slowly shook its head, then pointed to Kane’s heart and made a “insert” gesture.

Kane looked down at the brass key in his hand and suddenly understood. Trembling, he brought the key’s tip to his chest—there, the countdown on the pocket watch had turned a glaring red: 70:21:00:00.

The final moment of choice had come.

To become the next prisoner, sustaining this cycle that devours countless lives?

Or to pierce his own heart with the key, shattering the most fragile link of this Möbius loop?

The self inside the sphere gazed quietly at him, billions of stars swirling in its eyes.

Kane took a deep breath and clenched the key tightly.