CHAPTER 111 :The vault doors parted with a slow hydraulic sigh, releasing a thin exhale of cold air that brushed past Billy’s face as he stepped out. His mind still thrummed with the remnants of Alexander Anderson’s blueprint—the relic echoes, the strategic layers, the analytical precision that now lived inside him like a whispering engine. Tyla and Owen flanked him with the same quiet resolve. For the first time in hours, the sterile metallic corridors of the underground archive felt almost… grounding.But Billy felt something else too.A pressure in the air.A tension that didn’t belong to the vault.“Move carefully,” Owen murmured, scanning the shadowed hallway ahead. “Something’s off. The AI dropped its alert protocols too easily when we disengaged. That usually means the external environment changed.”Billy tightened his jaw. Owen didn’t speak without reason. He might’ve been the most mistrustful of the team, but that mistrust had saved them more than once.They moved forward,

CHAPTER 113 :Light swallowed him so completely that, for a moment, Billy wasn’t sure if he was standing, floating, or dissolving into the beam. There was no floor, no ceiling—just a suspension of thought, like his body had been peeled away and only awareness remained.Then the world snapped back.But it wasn’t the world.It was a memory.His father’s memory.Billy stood in what looked like a dimly lit command chamber, old technology humming around him—analog screens, static interference, wires coiled like veins. The air carried the metallic tang of electricity and something heavier: fear. Controlled fear.Alexander Anderson stood at the center.Young, sharp-eyed, shoulders tense with the weight of decisions he never had time to explain. Not a ghost, not a projection—this was a reconstruction of a moment carved into the fragments themselves.Billy stepped closer instinctively.“Dad…?”Alexander didn’t turn. He couldn’t—the mirror wasn’t interactive. It was a recording of consciousness

CHAPTER 115 :The new doorway didn’t open so much as unfold, like the chamber itself was exhaling after holding secrets for too long. A ribbon of starlight stretched into the darkness, thin and soft but unmistakably deliberate, like a trail laid by something ancient that expected someone like Billy to finally step through it.Tyla clicked her lightband on. Owen checked his scanner, brows tight, but not with fear—more like he was mentally preparing for whatever twisted logic the Luoshen ruins were going to throw at them this time.“Billy,” Tyla murmured, voice steady but tender, “you lead. It’s calibrated to you.”He nodded. Not out of bravado—out of a strange, newly rooted certainty. The mirror had peeled him open, but somehow the seams came back stronger.He took the first step.The corridor responded instantly.A soft thrum echoed under his feet, almost like a heartbeat. Or maybe a recognition pulse—the ruins acknowledging another mind in the Anderson line… but one with a different

CHAPTER 117 :Billy’s hands trembled slightly as he held the key fragment. Its energy thrummed against his palms like a living heartbeat, pulsing in resonance with his own. Unlike anything he’d experienced before, the fragment wasn’t just an object—it was aware. Responsive. Demanding recognition, alignment, and control.They had escaped the chaos of the auction hall, ducking into a narrow side corridor that led to the building’s lower maintenance levels. The dim lighting reflected off the polished steel walls, casting long, jagged shadows that twisted like living things. Tyla moved beside him, her presence steadying. She kept a hand close to his arm, grounding him through the fragment’s insistent vibrations.Billy closed his eyes, focusing inward. He could feel the fragment’s essence weaving into his own energy signature. It wasn’t malicious, but it was insistent—demanding more than passive acceptance. It wanted him to bond, to synchronize fully. And as he felt its power coiling aroun

CHAPTER 119 :Billy was still trembling when Owen forced him to sit upright, but Tyla kept one hand braced against his back in case another seizure hit. The ground around them was scarred — the relic’s outburst had carved thin, jagged fissures through the dirt like lightning had crawled under the earth.Billy blinked, exhausted, his eyes still carrying that faint unnatural glow.He hated it. She could see the shame in his jaw, the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze.“Slow breaths,” Tyla murmured, guiding him. “You’re back. Stay here with me.”But Billy shook his head, his voice barely steady.“Where’s… where’s the Curator?”And just like that, the panic Tyla had been suppressing roared back to life.Because she hadn’t seen him.Not since—Not since Billy collapsed.Owen cursed under his breath. “Damn it. I should’ve kept my eyes on—”A sharp whistle sliced across the wind — distant, high, almost metallic. All three of them snapped their heads toward the ridge.A silhouette moved across the