2025-05-24 23:44:02
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Ch-142
The compound had gone quiet after the last operation. Rebel scouts had pulled back, blood washed off the walls, and Nathan’s hand had closed like a fist around what remained of the Syndicate’s eastern hold. In the end, no explosions were needed. Just silence. Just patience.Ethan Reed hadn’t left his room in three days.Inside the secluded Syndicate compound nestled deep in the forest, the once-celebrated strategist sat on the floor beside an overturned desk. His eyes were vacant, red-rimmed. The walls were covered in printouts, scribbled maps, old letters… all now meaningless.He hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. The bottle of pills he’d crushed into powder trembled in his hand. His phone—camera already recording—lay on the floor, propped against a pile of discarded intel.“This is for the best,” Ethan whispered, voice shaking. “I thought I was doing the right thing. But it was all built on lies. She lied. Nyx lied. I helped her break people… kill people.”His fingers hovered ove
Ch-141
The shrine chamber was deathly still.Midnight mist clung to the cracked stone floor, curling around Nathan’s boots like living smoke. Candles flickered along the edge of the carved pillars—offerings to Sovereigns long passed—but none could hold the heat of what he was about to summon.Tenzin knelt silently beside him, drawing a faint sigil with powdered ash across Nathan’s palm. “This will burn,” the monk warned, voice hoarse with centuries of ancestral burden. “The vault answers only to blood. Lineage and pain.”“I know,” Nathan said.And he meant it.The blood technique they were attempting hadn’t been used in over two hundred years—not since the last Sovereign of Flesh took his own life to seal away his memories. But Nathan had no choice. Not after what he’d seen in the ruins. Not after learning Marion had once borne the Ring of Unity.He pressed his bleeding hand to the hollow basin of the stone altar.The glyphs etched into its surface flared red, then gold, then a deep violet-b
Ch-140
The last thing Miko remembered was the sting of Selene’s stun blast and Nathan’s distant voice shouting her name. Then, only darkness.Now she awoke to cold metal restraints and the low hum of a vessel in motion.The lights above flickered faintly—sterile, blue-white panels embedded in the curved ceiling of a high-security Syndicate transport. Around her, sleek gray walls and reinforced glass screens confirmed what she already suspected: she was airborne, and very far from help.Heavy sedation slowed her thoughts, made her limbs feel like lead. She was strapped into a reclined seat with neural dampeners clamped around her temples and wrists. Each pulse from the restraints sent a mild static buzz through her nervous system, designed to interrupt mental focus and suppress any ring-enhanced abilities.But something had changed.Even in her fogged state, she felt it—the Vision ring, still warm against her skin beneath the wrist cuff. The moment Selene had captured her, Miko thought she'd
Ch-139
The upper ruins of the Syndicate lab gave no hint of what still thrived beneath its shattered shell. Above ground, it was nothing but scorched concrete and collapsed scaffolding, a casualty of earlier drone strikes. But under the facade, Nathan knew, something older and darker lingered, something alive in thought, if not flesh.He moved carefully, hand brushing the carved stone walls of the sub-bunker’s main corridor. They pulsed faintly under his touch—ancient psionic etchings, reactivated. The glyphs weren’t just there to amplify psychic energy. They reinforced mental constructs, stitched illusions into reality, and made escape near impossible once the chamber sealed.This was not just a laboratory.It was a trap!Still, Nathan pressed forward.He passed through the archway into the core chamber, the entrance locking behind him with a magnetic hiss. The air instantly shifted. Thicker. Charged. Like walking into the center of a thunderstorm.They were already there.Three Syndicate t
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
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