Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 171 - Chapitre 180

POV: GullerIt wasn't healing. It was an exorcism.I crouched behind the wreckage of a server bank. I shielded my eyes. The light erupting in the center of the laboratory was chaotic. Blinding. To the biological eye, it was a girl holding a monster. To my Sight, it was a catastrophe.Neoma had latched onto Viggo’s soul. She had sunk a spiritual grappling hook into his marrow. She wasn't just touching him; she was siphoning the Red Mist. She was pulling the concentrated essence of the Feral Rot directly into her own veins.It felt like pouring liquid fire into a cup made of cracked glass."Neoma!" I screamed.My voice was lost in the roaring wind of the energy displacement."Let go! You are full! The machine... you cannot hold more!"She didn't hear me.Her spine bowed backward like a drawn bowstring. Her muscles were rigid cords. Her skin was turning a necrotic, terrifying black. The veins in her neck bulged. They pulsed with a sludge that looked like oil.Void Sickness.The diagnosis

POV: Neoma (Internal)She floated in a black vacuum.It was a state of absolute sensory deprivation. There was no gravity. No floor. No ceiling. No up or down to orient the vestibular system. There was only the endless, velvet embrace of the Void.It was cold. Not the biting, skin-cracking cold of the Wastes. It was the numbing zero-point energy of deep space. A temperature that stopped atoms from vibrating. A cold that stopped hearts from beating.I drifted.The somatic feedback loop was broken. The agony of the extraction machine was gone. The burning acid of the Red Mist had neutralized. The crushing weight of the Moon Well had evaporated. It was all a distant memory, fading like neural static after a seizure.Sleep, the ocean whispered.The voice didn't originate from auditory input. It vibrated in the particles of my own spirit. It resonated in the sub-atomic spaces between my cells. It sounded like a million voices overlapping—ancient, tired, and infinite.You are full, Little V

POV: WolfyFalling was flying without a flight plan.And our current flight plan was a vertical drop of three thousand feet. The central atrium of the Celestial Spire was a hollow cylinder of death.Neoma had punched a hole through the floor. It was a tactical masterstroke. It created an exit vector where none existed. It was also, statistically speaking, biological suicide.She dropped first. A streak of black lightning and white hair plummeting into the abyss."Follow her!" Barzil roared.The sound tore from his throat. He dove into the hole. He didn't hesitate.Viggo grabbed Guller by the back of his robes. He jumped.I followed.The wind hit me like a solid object. It wasn't air anymore; it was a physical barrier. The roar rushed past my ears, deafening me instantly. My eardrums popped painfully.We were in freefall. Accelerating at 9.8 meters per second squared. Terminal velocity for a humanoid body is approximately 120 miles per hour. We would reach that in twelve seconds.We wo

POV: BarzilThe past did not manifest as a ghost. It manifested as a blockade.I stood on the white stone of the promenade. The artificial wind whipped my torn uniform around my legs, biting at the exposed skin where the fabric had been sheared away. Behind me, the Vanguard huddled around the unconscious body of Neoma. I felt their presence as a radiant heat against my back—a fragile, biological cargo I was sworn to protect.Ahead of me, blocking the only vector to the Sky Docks, hovered the Silver Dart.It was a Dreadnought class interceptor. It didn't just float; it dominated the airspace. The displacement of air from its thrusters pressed against my chest like a physical hand. The hull, painted silver and blue, bristled with kinetic cannons that tracked our movement with a low, mechanical whir. I felt the vibration of its engines in the soles of my boots—a deep, resonant thrum that rattled my teeth.And on the ramp stood the woman who had once promised to marry me.Commander Ishara

POV: ViggoAny landing you walk away from is a functional success. This one was a biological failure point."Fuel critical!" Wolfy screamed.His voice was a high-frequency vibration that set my teeth on edge. The rattle of the dying thrusters traveled through the floor plates, up into the soles of my boots, and settled as a dull ache in my knees.The roar of the drive cut out. The absence of sound was a physical weight pressing against my eardrums. My stomach lurched toward my throat as gravity abandoned us. We were a metal box falling through a vacuum."Brace!" Barzil roared from the rear.I wrapped my arms around Neoma. I curled my frame over hers, quads burning as I locked my boots into the cargo webbing. I buried her face in my chest.My biceps bunched, the fibers straining against the fabric of my shredded jacket. My jaw clenched so hard my molars ground together, sending a sharp, stabbing pain into my temples. I became a cage of bone.Hold, I commanded my nervous system. Be the