《The Obsidian Covenant #1: The Rejected Mate's Ruin》全部章節：第 221 章 - 第 230 章

POV: WolfyYou can't build a house on quicksand. And the whole world was sinking.I stood before the makeshift tactical table in the ruin of the Council Chamber. My eyes burned. The sensation was a dry, gritty friction against my eyelids, the result of seventy-two hours without REM sleep. A dull, rhythmic throb had established itself at the base of my skull, radiating upward into my temples.The air in the chamber was stagnant. It smelled of ozone, ancient dust, and the lingering, metallic scent of dried blood."Report," Barzil rumbled.The Commander sat on a block of fallen masonry. His armor was gone, replaced by a simple grey tunic that showed the heavy bandaging around his ribs. He sat with absolute stillness, but I could hear the slow, heavy thud of his heart. It was a grounding rhythm in the silence.I tapped the console of the holographic projector. The screen was cracked, held together by adhesive tape and determination. The image flickered—a burst of blue static that made my

POV: NeomaThe table was round. No head, no foot. Just a circle of problems waiting to swallow us whole.My fingers traced the edge of the obsidian slab. It was cold—a leech sucking the warmth straight from my fingertips.The surface was rough, unpolished, still scarred where Viggo had dragged it from the wreckage of the Citadel. A low-frequency vibration hummed through the stone, resonating with the voices arguing across it.My head throbbed. A dull, rhythmic pressure centered behind my eyes, synchronizing with my pulse. Thump. Thump. I hadn't slept. Not really. Just short, jagged periods of unconsciousness where the dreams were louder than the waking world."The water allocation for the Dregs is insufficient," Rax growled.The rebel leader leaned forward. His knuckles pressed against the stone, the skin stretched white and tight over the bone. He smelled of old sweat and sharp aggression."We have children drinking sludge while the Upper Districts are flushing toilets with potable w

POV: Wolfy The math was impossible. The variable was faith. And Wolfy didn't believe in faith.He stood before the main terminal, the blue light of the holographic display biting into his retinas. His eyes burned, dry and gritty, as if he had rubbed them with sand.He blinked, but the stinging persisted. Inside his skull, a headache tightened like a garrote wire, pulsing in sync with the hum of the cooling fans."Wolfy?" Neoma’s voice. Soft. Too soft.He didn't turn. He couldn't. If he looked at her, the equation would fall apart."I’m running Guller’s hypothesis," Wolfy said. His voice scraped against his throat, dry from hours of silence. He typed a command.The hologram shifted, red lines simulating orbital trajectories. "Scenario A: Impact. 100% extinction. Scenario B: Void Consumption. Neoma attempts to eat the mass. Result: She detonates. 100% extinction."He paused, his fingers hovering over the glass interface. They were trembling. A fine, high-frequency tremor that traveled

POV: Neoma SolsticeConvincing an enemy was easy. Convincing a lover was war.Neoma stood in the center of the room. Her knees locked to keep her upright. A tremor started in her calves, vibrating up her thighs, settling as a sick, heavy weight in her stomach. The air in the room was hot, suffocating, smelling of distressed ozone and the copper tang of Viggo’s rising aggression."No."Viggo didn't say the word; he threw it. He paced the small space, four steps, turn, four steps, turn. His hands were fists, knuckles white, the tendons in his forearms pulling tight like steel cables under the skin."We find another way," he growled. The sound rumbled deep in his chest, a physical vibration that rattled Neoma’s teeth. "We fight. We kill the fragments. We don't... we don't plug you into a planetary socket and hope you don't fry.""There is no other way, Viggo." Neoma’s voice scraped her throat, dry and raw. She swallowed, but her mouth produced no saliva. "Wolfy ran the numbers."She look

POV: Neoma SolsticeHope was a digital counter ticking upward.Neoma stared at the holographic projection hovering above the central table. Her eyes burned, dry and gritty from hours of not blinking enough.A low, persistent hum from the server banks vibrated through the soles of her boots, travelling up her shins to settle as a buzz in her knees."Current tally: 12%," Wolfy stated. His voice was flat, stripped of inflection, but the scent of ozone radiating from him was sharp enough to taste. He tapped a key. "Time remaining: Four hours."Neoma gripped the edge of the metal table. The steel was cold, biting into her palms. She focused on that sensation—the bite of the edge—to keep her nausea down. Her stomach felt hollow, as if she had swallowed a stone that was slowly dissolving into acid."It’s not enough," Viggo rumbled from the shadows. He wasn't pacing. He was standing perfectly still, his muscles coiled so tight they looked like carved wood. A vein in his neck pulsed—once, twic