MasukThe crawl through the narrow, dust-choked maintenance shafts above the Ministry of Trade bunker felt like tunneling through the ribcage of a buried leviathan. The air was thick with the metallic tang of heated copper and stale sweat, every breath a conscious effort.
"The board is a graveyard of broken glass and flickering monitors," Galen said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp as he kicked aside a charred server casing. "You’re a monster, Nurin."Nurin didn't stand up. She remained in the high-backed executive chair, her fingers resting lightly on the cold, matte-black surface of her desk. The office was an icebox of silence, save for the rhythmic, unsettling ticking of the clock on the wall. She looked up at him, her dark eyes hollowed-out voids of violet light."I’m a realist, Galen," sh
The board was a graveyard of broken glass and flickering monitors. Galen stood over the ruins of the SCIF, his hand still vibrating from the surge."You’re a monster," Nurin wheezed, her voice a thin, broken wire. She leaned against the server rack, her tactical vest shredded.Galen didn't blink. He caught her, his hands steady, his eyes fixed on the man in the charcoal suit stepping through the airlock.
"You’re a monster," Nurin wheezed, her voice a thin, broken wire.Galen didn't blink. He caught her, his hands steady, his eyes fixed on the man in the charcoal suit stepping through the airlock."I’m a realist, Nurin," Galen said, his voice as flat as a desert horizon. "The Mastermind’s code was never a virus. It was a mirror. It needed a host to reflect the truth of the empire. I’m just giving it a home."
"You weren't supposed to find that for another hour," Galen said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth that had defined their entire existence. "But I suppose you never could resist a puzzle."Nurin stared at him, the footage playing on the screen behind her—grainy, silent proof of Galen’s hand in her past. "Galen? What have you done?""I’ve finished the algorithm, Nurin," he said, taking a measured step toward her, his finger tightening on the trigger. "And you were the final variable."
The SCIF hummed with the sound of dying electricity. Nurin’s head lolled against Galen’s shoulder, her breath shallow, fighting the encroaching vacuum."You’re a monster," she wheezed, her voice a thin, broken wire.Galen didn't blink. He caught her, his hands steady, his eyes fixed on the man in the charcoal suit stepping through the airlock."I’m a realist, Nur
Nurin stood in the center of the SCIF, the hum of the cooling fans a static roar in her ears. Her sidearm was holstered, her hands empty, and her heart felt like a hollowed-out stone."You’re lying," Nurin whispered, though the footage played on the screen behind her—the grainy, silent proof of Galen’s hand in her past. "Julian was a puppet. I tore him down because I thought he was the architect of my father’s fall. You were there, Galen. You were at the hospital. You held the files."Galen didn't lower the pistol







