​Zane did not take a car. He was operating at 70% Core Power, and the Temporal Shift (Lv. 2) was his only way to traverse the city's chaotic streets in seconds. He focused his mind, pushing the limits of the mortal shell.​Temporal Shift: Full Activation.​The city blurred into streaks of light and color. The cars became slow-moving obstacles, the people frozen snapshots of motion. In the space of three breaths, Zane had covered three miles, arriving at the deserted East Wing Student Union—the site of his original humiliation and now the stage for his most critical battle.​The area was silent, eerily devoid of the police presence one would expect after the Museum heist. The silence confirmed Zane's dread: This was an Obsidian Hand operation designed to be unnoticed.​He burst through the main doors, his eyes immediately locking onto the primary energy signature: Liya. She was standing in the center of the vast, dusty lounge—the very spot where he had scrubbed wine stains just days ag

​Liya Chen drove a borrowed, nondescript utility van—one of the Chen family’s logistics vehicles—at terrifying speeds through the deserted industrial roads toward Warehouse 7. Zane lay inert on the passenger seat, his body unnaturally still, wrapped in a blanket salvaged from the back. The silence in the van was broken only by Liya’s ragged breathing and the distant wail of emergency sirens heading toward the Student Union.​I broke him. The thought hammered at her. She wasn't processing the god-war; she was processing the shock of her own, accidental violence. She had aimed for control, and she had achieved utter, devastating destruction.​"Hold on, Zane," she muttered, gripping the wheel until her knuckles were white. "We're almost there. You said this was the only place."​The Commander's Last Command​Zane’s mind was a black, chaotic void. His consciousness was reduced to a flicker—a single core process fighting the systemic failure of his mortal body.​[Host: Zane (Ares)]​[Core

​The wind howled through the skeletal frame of the decommissioned Hillside Radio Tower. Liya Chen stepped out of the utility van, the cold air stinging her cheeks. In her right hand, she gripped a heavy industrial wrench; in her left, a modified Chen Family security tablet.​She looked up. The tower was draped in the same subtle, shimmering distortion field she had seen in the Faculty Lounge (Chapter 11). This was Asset Sigma’s nest.​Insight (Lv. 1): Identify the primary frequency of the distortion field.​Her mind flickered. The world turned into a schematic of overlapping waves. She saw a pulsing node halfway up the tower—a small, black box grafted onto the rusted steel.​"I see you, Professor," she whispered.​The Duel of Wits​As she approached the base of the tower, a series of micro-drones detached from the structure, hovering like angry hornets. They didn't fire. Instead, the speakers on the drones crackled to life with Dr. Elias Thorne’s smooth, academic baritone.​"Miss Chen

​The skyline of the city was hemorrhaging. A violent, bruised purple light pulsed from the heart of the municipal Power Station, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to move independently of the people they belonged to. On the streets, the Panic Index was manifesting: drivers abandoned cars, sirens wailed without purpose, and a low, subsonic thrum made the very air feel like it was vibrating with needles.​Zane leaned on Liya as they approached the perimeter fence of the station. He was a wreck of a man, his skin pale and shimmering with a fading golden light, but his eyes remained fixed on the objective.​"The Executioner’s glaive," Zane rasped, nodding toward the heavy black blade Liya was dragging. "It’s not just a weapon. It’s an Access Key. The Scions don't use locks; they use resonance. That blade is tuned to the Anchor's frequency."​Liya looked at the Power Station. The main gates were reinforced steel, guarded by private security teams now paralyzed by the Anchor's psy

​The sunrise over the city was blindingly clear. The purple bruise of the Chaos Anchor was gone, replaced by a pristine, golden morning that felt almost insulting in its serenity.​Liya Chen climbed the final rung of the service ladder, emerging from the cooling vent into the cool air of the Power Station’s rear lot. She was covered in black soot, oily sludge, and the dust of a disintegrated god. Her designer blazer was ruined, her hands blistered, but her spine was steel.​She was alone. Physically.​But internally, the world was noisy.​[SYSTEM CALIBRATION COMPLETE.][HOST: LIYA CHEN (THE KEY).][RESIDENT SOUL: ARES (STABILIZING).][CORE POWER: 100% (SEALED). ACCESSIBLE POWER: 1%.]​Zane? Liya thought, the name echoing in the vast, new architecture of her own mind.​I am here, came the reply. It wasn't a voice; it was a sensation of warmth in her chest, a faint pulse of golden light behind her eyes. Dormant. Waiting. The shell is gone, Liya. I am merely the blueprint now.​Liya took