The questions came uninvited. What the Calypso had built. How far its reach extended. Whether anything it shaped could still be undone.
He acknowledged the fear, cataloged it, then set it aside. Panic was inefficient, and curiosity could wait. Survival required focus.
The monsters mattered only insofar as they revealed the rules of their maker. Patterns. Limits. Exploitable behaviors. Every horror implied an oversight.
Escape was no longer a matter of force, but of understanding. If the Calypso could create, it could also miscalculate.
He watched the thing coil and breathe, memorizing its structure—not to admire it, but to leave it behind.
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