2025-05-20 22:11:38
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Ch-138
Rain drops clung to the eaves of the rebel safehouse like guilt. Harper’s boots left sharp echoes in the corridor as she returned from recon—only to find the main hall empty. The board was flickering, the last trace of Miko’s signal gone.“She’s not in her room,” Harper said, pacing fast into the operations wing. “No comms. No ping. Her patch is offline.”Nathan looked up from the table, unreadable. “Selene?”“Gone too.”Nathan exhaled slowly, as if he had already counted down to this moment. He didn’t react with shock—just the weary confirmation of a theory proven right.“She made her move.”Harper frowned. “You knew?”“I didn’t know. But I prepared.” He pushed a small case forward on the console and flipped it open, revealing a cluster of flickering blue dots suspended above a neural mesh map.Harper squinted. “A tracker?”“Not quite. A psychic imprint,” Nathan said. “Passive, keyed to her metabolic resonance. It rides her subconscious like background noise—undetectable unless you’r
Ch-137
The silence at the rebel base had turned ceremonial.After Bishop’s defection and the discovery of the Seventh Ring’s purpose, the war room had run red with overlays—ring lattices, encrypted beacon pulses, and dozens of Syndicate codenames flickering to life across forgotten territories. But Nathan Maddox, the rebel commander, was no longer at the table.He had been summoned.The UN Tribunal in Luxembourg had issued a formal warrant for his presence, citing allegations of unauthorized warfare, civilian endangerment, and worst of all—telepathic intrusion without ethical clearance. The rebel council had protested. Nathan had only raised his hand and said, “Let them see.”Now, the world was watching.The tribunal hall was a crescent of marble and iron, sterile as a tomb and wired with global feeds. Every channel carried the live stream. News banners screamed contradictory headlines: REBEL WARLORD ON TRIAL, SAVIOR OR PSYCHIC TERRORIST?, SYNDICATE WHISTLEBLOWERS DENIED ENTRY.Nathan stood
Ch-136
The footage from Nova Point was still looping across rebel terminals when the signal crackled through: an unidentified vessel requesting asylum. It carried Syndicate clearance, high-level encryption, and a biometric imprint that froze half the command room.“Code match confirmed,” said the rebel technician, eyes wide. “Council seat six. Syndicate internal designation: Bishop.”In the command tent, Nathan stood beside the war table, arms folded. He exchanged a glance with Tenzin, who only nodded grimly.“Bring him in,” Nathan said.The man who stepped off the battered hovercraft didn’t wear Syndicate black. His suit was frayed, gray with soot and salt, and his breathing mask was scorched along one edge. His eyes, however, were clear—sharp, calculating, and exhausted.“I go by Bishop,” he said. “I’ve burned everything else.”Miko narrowed her eyes. “Why defect now?”He didn’t flinch. “Because I watched Marion kill a child last week. Not to send a message. Not to extract information. Jus
Ch-135
The winds at Nova Point howled like wolves, dragging sea-spray high into the misty air. Cold water pounded the jagged cliffside below, echoing in rhythmic crashes. Perched atop those cliffs was the rebel outpost: little more than a radar dish, a rusted comms station, and a bunker carved into the granite. But in the fractured world Marion had left behind, this scrap of land held weight. Nova Point was the last uplink feeding secure rebel transmissions across the Atlantic. If it fell, coordination across half the continent would fracture. Nathan had just left hours ago, recalled to Geneva. Harper had stayed behind, overseeing diagnostics, half-hoping for a quiet shift. Instead, the storm came. “Drone swarm inbound!” shouted Velan, a wiry teenager barely out of training. “Hundred-plus contacts. No IFF tags. All hostile.” Harper leaned over the edge of the bluff and saw them, dark specks against the roiling sky, emerging from the horizon like a plague. Syndicate tech. Fast, aggressiv
Ch-134
The storm had just started to settle.After Marion’s global strike, a wave of darkness across six nations, Geneva stood as one of the few secure locations where Nathan’s rebel network still held the upper hand. Deep within the fortified walls of a rebel-controlled medical facility outside the city, the cold hum of cryo-chambers echoed like ghosts breathing.Miko stood before the primary pod. Frost clung to its steel casing. Sensors pulsed in steady rhythm, signaling stability. “Vitals are holding. Neural activity rising. He’s waking up.”Harper adjusted the low-light monitor beside her, ever watchful. “You’re sure this place is off-grid?”Nathan nodded. “No uplink. No traceable tech. If Marion finds this boy, it’s over.”The pod released a final hiss, and then the cover peeled back. Steam drifted out. Inside lay a boy, looking extremely young and fragile. His frame was lean but tall for his age, skin pale from years in stasis. His lashes fluttered, and his fingers twitched as his lun
Ch-133
The memory vault closed behind Nathan with a low, thunderous hum. The echo of the long-dead Sovereign King's warning still rang in his bones: “She wanted eternity. And now she’s made it bleed.”Outside the monastery, the sky was no longer calm. Static shivered across the horizon. Communications faltered. The world beyond was changing, fast.Nathan stepped out into the courtyard, wind clawing at his coat. Harper met him with grim eyes and a satellite tablet in hand.“You need to see this,” she said.The screen lit up.Blackouts, crashes and panic everywhere._________At 4:03 AM GMT, Frankfurt’s power grid failed, triggering a cascade of market closures across the EU. Twelve minutes later, New York’s stock index froze, before blinking red with mass liquidation. In Jakarta, satellites went dark mid-orbit. São Paulo’s metro systems collapsed in sync, stranding millions. Mumbai’s water purification facilities shut down. Tokyo’s central AI hospital coordination unit began dispensing fatal
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