Chapter 212"My scars?" Dr. Victor Aris let out a short, dismissive bark of laughter. His thumb hovered a millimeter over the physical switch of the dead-man’s detonator. "I am a surgeon, Adrian. I don't have scars. I leave them on other people.""That’s where you're wrong, Victor," Adrian Black said, taking another slow, casual step down the marble staircase. He was still wearing his gray sweatpants and black t-shirt. He didn't look like a cosmic deity. He looked like a guy who had just rolled out of bed to sign for a package. "Stop right there," the lead mercenary growled, tightening his grip on his kinetic assault rifle. The red laser sight bounced nervously against the center of Adrian’s chest. "It's fine, let him walk," Aris sneered, his confidence absolute. He held up the remote. "He knows basic anatomy. He knows what neuro-corrosive acid does to the central nervous system. One twitch of my thumb, Adrian, and you spend the rest of your immortal, god-like existence drinking you

Chapter 214"I feel like a penguin trapped in a sausage casing," Joe grumbled, violently tugging at the collar of his heavily starched white tuxedo shirt. "You look distinguished, Joe," Adrian Black said, adjusting his own immaculate, midnight-blue Milanese suit in the reflection of the glass elevator doors. "And the Kevlar-weave lining is remarkably breathable. Just try not to flex too hard; I don't want you popping a button and taking out an investor's eye."The glass elevator shot upward along the exterior of the Apex Dynamics Tower, offering a dizzying, glittering view of Sector 1’s skyline. Aethelgard’s commercial district was a neon-drenched paradise of corporate wealth, and tonight, the apex predators of that paradise were throwing a party. "I still don't get why we couldn't just spatial-fold into the ballroom," Joe complained, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Taking an elevator feels... pedestrian.""Because, Joe, when you fold space into a room, people tend to spill thei

Chapter 216"If I can't manipulate the room," Adrian growled, his golden-crimson-silver eyes snapping open, "I'll just manipulate myself."He didn't try to lift the mechs with gravity. He channeled the restricted cosmic energy entirely inward, hyper-densifying his own muscular and skeletal structure. He became a three-hundred-pound bullet. Adrian vaulted over the smoking remains of the banquet table and sprinted directly at the nearest synth. The machine tracked him, tracking the rotary cannon down to fire. Adrian slid across the polished marble floor on his knees, sliding directly under the stream of plasma. As he passed beneath the towering machine, he drove his fist upward, channeling a localized, micro-burst of kinetic force directly into the synth’s hydraulic knee joint. The tungsten armor buckled. The hydraulic fluid exploded in a shower of green sparks. The ten-foot synth lurched violently, its leg giving out. As it toppled forward, Adrian sprang to his feet, grabbed the m

Chapter 218Sector 7 - Ground ZeroThe heavy, wedge-shaped Vanguard subterranean drop-ship hovered three feet over the cracked asphalt of Sector 7. It was plated in thermal-resistant tungsten, designed originally for deep-core rescue missions. "The drill is primed, Boss," Joe said from the co-pilot seat, flipping a row of heavy physical switches. "But fifteen miles of solid rock? Even with plasma-cutters, this is going to take us hours to dig through.""We aren't digging, Joe," Adrian said from the pilot’s seat. He didn't touch the flight controls. He placed his bare hands flat against the dashboard. With Kaelen gone and the Root Access keys integrated directly into his Sovereign core, Adrian’s connection to the planet was absolute. He didn't need to punch a hole in the earth; he was the Administrator of the dirt itself. His eyes flared with brilliant, blinding silver and gold light. [ ROOT DIRECTORY COMMAND: LITHOSPHERE DISPLACEMENT. ][ SEPARATING TECTONIC STRATA... ]Outside t

Chapter 220The static on the drop-ship’s radio crackled, fading back into the low, rhythmic hum of the Vanguard transport's engines. Joe slowly turned his head in the co-pilot’s seat, staring at Adrian. "Boss. Did that radio just say 'Foreclosure Fleet'?""It did, Joe," Adrian said, his hands resting lightly on the flight controls. The golden-crimson-silver light in his eyes didn't dim; it sharpened into focused, lethal pinpricks. "Can we just have five minutes?" Joe pleaded, throwing his hands up in the air. "Just five consecutive minutes where a cosmic entity, an ancient wizard, or a rogue drill isn't trying to evict us, murder us, or turn the planet into a smoothie? Is that too much to ask the universe?""The universe doesn't respect PTO, Joe," Adrian smirked, though the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. He tapped the comms console. "Cora. Talk to me. What are the orbital sensors picking up?"In the back of the transport, Cora’s fingers were flying across her holographic interf