"Stop it! Both of you!" Bayu scrambled to his feet, ignoring the agony radiating from his elbow. He looked at Galang. The boy was suspended in the air, his body contorted in a silent scream, anchored by ribbons of violet light that threaded directly into the ceiling’s pulsating veins.Draven kicked Alaric off his chest, his face a mask of sweating, desperate fury. "Look at him, Bayu! He’s the ignition point! If we don’t shatter that pipe, the resonance will blow this entire sector into the dust. We aren't saving him—we're just deciding who dies first."Alaric didn't stand up. He stayed on his knees, his sword pointed haphazardly at the floor, his eyes fixed on Galang’s face, which flickered between agony and a horrifying, vacant serenity. "It’s not just a pipe, Draven. I told you, I’ve seen the manifests. These aren't just conduits. They’re the leftovers of the old mining colonies. They aren't magical artifacts. They’re scrap. We’re being fed a lie to keep us from realizing the Sultan

"You didn't know?" Draven’s laughter was a wet, hacking sound, devoid of humor. He took a heavy, deliberate step toward Alaric, his hand hovering over the hilt of his blade. "You were the one who scouted the archives. You were the one who told us the Tethers were 'relics of the first expansion.' You let us pump that violet filth into our own bloodstreams, Alaric. Look at Galang. He isn't glowing with power. He’s glowing because he’s rotting from the inside out."Alaric didn't flinch, though his knuckles were white as he gripped the hilt of his sword. "I was told they were capacitors. I was told they were batteries. I never read the fine print about the human cost because the Sultan’s scholars scrubbed the records clean. Do you think I would have let us link up if I knew we were acting as the conduits for our own execution?""I think you’d do anything to keep the mission going," Bayu snapped, his voice echoing against the damp, stone walls of the chamber. He didn't look at either of th

"He’s grounding out," Alaric whispered, his voice trembling with a rare, naked terror. He dropped his sword, the clatter echoing violently against the damp stone of the chamber.Bayu didn't wait for Alaric to finish. He lunged forward, sliding through the oily runoff of the chamber floor to catch Galang before he hit the ground. The moment Bayu’s fingers grazed Galang’s tunic, a jolt of static electricity snapped against his skin—not the warm, rhythmic hum of a healthy Tether, but the jagged, discordant feedback of a system failing under extreme pressure."Don't touch him!" Draven roared, stepping back and raising his blade. "If he’s venting, he’ll fry your nervous system, Bayu. Look at his eyes!"Bayu ignored the warning. He looked. Galang’s pupils were gone, replaced by thin, vertical slits of pulsing violet light that seemed to be vibrating at a frequency so high it blurred the air around his head. Galang wasn't just sick; he was becoming a conduit for the very thing they had spent

"The Sultan’s soldiers have opened the reservoirs," Bayu spat, his voice dropping to a gravelly, lethal whisper as the realization settled into his gut. He didn't turn away from Galang, who was now shivering with a rhythm that felt like a dying heartbeat. "They aren't just cutting the power. They’re purging the lines. If the conduits fail, the whole city goes dark—and they’re burning everyone left in the dark to keep the palace lights on."Draven stepped closer, his heavy blade dragging a harsh, scraping sound across the iron floor. "The palace doesn't care about the dark, Bayu. They care about the silence. And right now? The city is screaming. You hear that?"Above them, the muted rumble of a city-wide riot descended through the ventilation shafts. It wasn't the sound of orchestrated warfare; it was the raw, jagged screech of a population that had finally realized they were being fed into a furnace."Alaric," Bayu barked without looking back, his fingers white-knuckled as he gripped

"The 'harvest' is turning into a slaughterhouse, Alaric!" Draven snarled, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade until the knuckles turned white. "And while you sit there mourning your misplaced trust in that tyrant, the people of the lower wards are being butchered by the Sultan’s hollow-guards. Do you hear that? That isn't the sound of an uprising anymore. That’s the sound of a total collapse."The roar from above had shifted. The initial chaotic clamor of thousands of panicked voices had been replaced by the rhythmic, heavy thud of military boots and the sharp, piercing cries of steel biting into flesh. It was a rhythmic, industrial sort of massacre.Bayu didn't look up from Galang. The violet light pulsing beneath his friend’s skin had begun to bleed outward, staining the grime of the floor with an oily, shimmering residue. It was caustic, eating through the metal plating of the sewer floor. "He’s burning out," Bayu muttered, his voice cold, stripped of all emotion save