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chapter 184

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โ˜…๐•ฌ๐–Š๐–‘๐–Ž๐–†

The Nexus remained bathed in the glorious, steady light of the completed Weave, yet I felt a profound sense of anxiety the first genuine uncertainty in decades.

Building the Temporal Outreach Corps required us to choose an individual who was the antithesis of the Allianceโ€™s foundational nature. We needed a mind that was not obsessed with control, but fluent in ambiguity.

The choice was clear, Commander Mela. Her expertise in Sonic and Flow elements had allowed her to teach the Weave how to sing across incompatible frequencies.

If anyone could translate the Alliance's rigid logic into a language a chaotic, unsecured civilization could understand, it was Mela. She was the disciplined chaos we had learned to trust.

I stood with Mela in the Transit Chamber, the geometric entry point to the Dimensional Weave. The chamber was sterile white, perfect, and terrifyingly final. Her ship, the Harmony, had been refitted, stripped of most offensive capabilities and instead layered wit
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