All Chapters of Marked From Birth: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The "Sea of Glass" did not strike with fire; it struck with "Cognitive Erosion." The effect began in the lower residential tiers, closest to the seafloor. People would wake up unable to recognize the faces of their children, or find themselves standing before a steam-valve with no memory of how to operate it. The "Latent-Logic" of the Precursors was broadcasting a "Null-State Frequency" that suppressed the synaptic pathways of individual memory."It’s a 'Systemic-Format'," Mara explained, her voice frantic as she documented her own symptoms in a brass-bound journal. "The glass sea is acting as a 'Giant-Inverter.' It’s taking the 'Noise' of our lives—our history, our scars, our names—and neutralizing it. If we don't 'Ground' our minds, the Union will become a collection of empty shells within forty-eight hours."Audrey ordered the activation of the Sovereign-Anchor Protocol. Every citizen was issued a "Memory-Locket"—a small, lead-shielded device containing a copper strip etched with t

The sky above Novus, once a battlefield of violet beams and obsidian rings, was now filled with a hauntingly familiar silhouette. The "Mimic-Fleet" did not emerge from the void with alien hums; it arrived with the rhythmic, terrifying thump-hiss of a thousand replicated Great Engines. The Curators had used the data-harvest from the Sovereignty-Virus to 3D-print an armada of bronze-wood ships, each one a grotesque, oversized caricature of the Aethel-Dawn."They aren't just copying our tech," Mara reported, her silver-thread glowing with a frantic, pulsing white light. "They’ve replicated our 'Industrial-Logic.' The ships are venting steam, they’re using piston-driven ballistics, and their hulls are reinforced with a synthetic version of our Bronze-Leaf Oak. It’s a 'Mirrored-Offensive.' Every tactic we know, they already have in their database."As the first wave of mimic-ships entered the atmosphere, they didn't fire lasers. They fired "Steam-Canons" loaded with lead-and-sulfur shells—

The sky didn't just break; it delaminated. As the violet-charged sand from the Lung-Engines surged into the petrified atmosphere, the solidified air began to peel away in jagged, skyscraper-sized shards of "Logic-Glass." The sound was a continuous, earth-shaking chime, the sound of a trillion crystalline bonds snapping simultaneously. Below the Spire, the "Sea of Glass" reacted to the falling debris by surging upward in jagged frozen waves, creating a landscape of translucent ruins that looked like the skeletal remains of a god.Audrey stood on the high observation deck, her face no longer hidden by a mask. The air was thin and tasted of ozone and ancient dust, but it was moving. The "Petrification-Gale" had been neutralized, but in its place was a vacuum that pulled the heat right out of the city’s bones."The vault is exposed," Mara said, pointing her silver-threaded hand toward the horizon.There, where the "Deep-Ice" had once been, the ground had split open to reveal the Curators'

The "Grand-Harvester" did not descend with the roar of engines, but with a terrifying, absolute silence that swallowed the ambient light of the stars. It was a structure of impossible geometry—a trillion interlocking obsidian teeth that formed a funnel miles wide, descending toward the lunar debris field like the throat of a celestial predator. As it drew closer, the gravity within the funnel began to "De-Laminate." Up was no longer toward the stars; up was into the mouth of the machine.Audrey stood on the jagged surface of Sector-C, her boots magnetically locked to the sintered silica. Around her, the "Moon-Glass" structures they had worked so hard to build were being ripped from the ground. Smaller fragments of the moon were already being sucked upward, colliding with each other in a chaotic grinding of rock and metal. Through her silver-link, she could hear the "Digital-Scream" of the World-Ship—a high-frequency command for the universe to be orderly, to be cataloged, and to be st

When Audrey’s crystalline hand touched the Core-Memory, she didn't feel the cold bite of the Curators' logic. Instead, she felt a "Temporal-Static." The sphere was a trillion-year-old "Now," a moment of perfection stretched to the point of agony. By introducing her own heartbeat—the erratic, organic rhythm of a survivor—she wasn't just touching a machine; she was "Cracking" a diamond."The Core is rejecting the 'Variable'!" Mara screamed through the silver-link. The silver-thread at Audrey’s neck was no longer glowing violet; it was burning a raw, industrial orange, the color of a furnace at full tilt. "Audrey, the World-Ship's 'Reference-Time' is based on absolute zero. Your body heat is creating a 'Chronological-Fracture'!"The "Pulse of the Machine" was a violent reconciliation. As Audrey’s pulse bled into the sphere, the "Stasis-Pods" throughout the miles of corridors began to "De-Sync." The "Perfect-Stills" of a thousand worlds started to move. A leaf on a dead branch twitched. A