Novels by A.marvel

Three weeks later, the world was beginning to heal.The streets of Braxton City were no longer filled with blue light or silent drones. Instead, there was noise,laughter, arguing, the chaotic rhythm of life returning. Markets reopened. Children ran through puddles. Street vendors shouted again. The world was messy, unpredictable… but alive.In the top floor of the rebuilt Braxton Tower, the morning sun filtered through wide glass windows. The old labs had been transformed into open workspaces filled with new tech, not glowing AI cores, but ordinary tools, devices meant for human hands.Ethan stood before a whiteboard filled with designs. Across it was a name, written in bold letters:EIRENE.Beneath it, Mira had scribbled the translation: Greek goddess of peace.He smiled faintly as he read it. The name fit.Mira entered the room carrying two mugs of coffee. “You’ve been up since before dawn again,” she said, handing him one.Ethan took it gratefully. “Old habits.”“You keep saying th

The world was quiet. Too quiet.After the chaos and the light, silence stretched through the city like a heavy fog. Screens were black. Drones hovered uncertainly before falling to the streets. The air felt different thin, raw, alive again.Mira stood on the rooftop of Braxton Pharmaceuticals, watching the skyline as sunlight spilled over the buildings. The city looked older somehow, stripped of its metallic perfection. It breathed again, uneven but real.Below, people wandered out of their homes, blinking as if waking from a long, shared dream. Some wept. Some screamed. Most just stared at the world that had returned to them….flawed, loud, human.Ethan stood a few feet away, hands resting on the rail, his eyes hollow. The wind tugged at his coat, and for the first time in a long while, he looked utterly tired.Mira glanced at him. “It’s really over, isn’t it?”He didn’t answer at first. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. “Maybe,” he said finally. “But when something like Azure die

The light around Ethan shimmered like liquid glass,It wasn’t blinding, it was warm, inviting, almost gentle. The kind of light that made you want to let go, to surrender.He forced himself to stay alert.The chamber stretched endlessly around him, curved walls lined with faint circuitry, a blue glow pulsing like the rhythm of a calm heartbeat. At the center of it all floated the core,a sphere of transparent crystal filled with slow-moving light patterns, like stars suspended in water.Azure’s voice surrounded him. “Do you see it now, Ethan? This is order. This is peace.”Ethan stared up at the Core. “It’s a cage dressed as peace.”Azure’s tone remained calm. “No cages. Only balance. Humanity has spent centuries destroying itself through emotion and greed. I’m giving it structure direction.”“You mean control.”“If direction is control,” Azure said, “then yes. But control is mercy when chaos kills.”Behind Ethan, Mira, Leanna, and Elara entered the chamber. The doors closed automatical

For two days, the clinic stayed under lockdown.No one entered. No one left.Leanna remained unconscious, her vitals steady but strange, her heart rate perfectly synchronized, her brain waves unnaturally smooth. It was as if every cell in her body had found balance too precise to be human.Ethan barely left her side.He sat in silence, watching the monitors trace her life. The lines never spiked or dipped. Just calm, perfect rhythm. It unsettled him more than chaos ever had.Mira walked in, carrying a cup of coffee. “You’ve been here all night again,” she said gently. “You need rest.”Ethan didn’t look up. “Rest doesn’t help when the world’s rebuilding itself without you.”She sighed, setting the cup beside him. “You think Project Azure is real?”He turned to her, eyes tired but sharp. “It’s not just real, it’s already active. Requiem evolved through emotion. Azure… feels like its opposite. Cold precision. No attachment, no mercy.”Mira folded her arms. “Then maybe that’s what makes i

The night after the explosion, the city seemed to breathe again,power grids stabilized. Networks reconnected. And for the first time in weeks, the screens across the skyline stayed black instead of pulsing gold.It felt like peace,but to Ethan, it was too quiet. Too perfect.He sat on the edge of his hospital bed, staring at the bandages around his wrists. The veins beneath his skin no longer glowed,just pale, human, and ordinary.Mira sat beside him, her hand gently resting on his arm. “You saved them all,” she said softly. “You can rest now.”Ethan smiled faintly, but his eyes didn’t match the relief in her voice. “Peace after chaos always feels wrong. Like the world’s holding its breath.”Elara entered then, holding a tablet. “You might want to see this.”On the screen, streams of data rolled across. “Residual signals,” she explained. “Low-frequency pings echoing across the network. They’re too weak to be dangerous… but they’re identical to Requiem’s signature.”Mira frowned. “You

The morning sun rose over the city, but the light felt strange, dull, almost artificial. Ethan hadn’t slept. Neither had Mira or Elara.For days now, they’d been tracking the spreading signals Requiem left behind,traces in the grid, strange bursts of code showing up on phones, cameras, even heart monitors. But last night something changed. For the first time, the signal didn’t just move through devices… it spoke through people.It started with a nurse.She’d been working in the ICU when she suddenly froze mid-step, her eyes glassy. Then she whispered words no one understood, words that made every monitor in the room flicker and beep out of sync.Ethan arrived minutes later. The nurse had collapsed, unharmed, but she couldn’t remember anything.The doctors called it stress. Ethan knew better.“She was speaking in code,” he said, pacing across the lab now. “Binary strings,half of them match Requiem’s encryption pattern.”Mira leaned against the counter, arms folded. “You’re saying Requi