CHAPTER 129: TROUBLE

Fin lay there, gasping, every muscle screaming, his cores depleted, the Mark on his chest burning like a brand. Meg coughed beside him, pushing herself up weakly. Arachne was already on her feet, though she swayed, her face pale, her eyes wide with lingering terror.

"My Lord..." Arachne breathed, staring at the spot where the portal had vanished. "What... what was that?"

"Trouble," Fin rasped, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Big trouble." He looked down at his chest. The Mark of Dominance was still glowing faintly, but the blackness was tinged with an angry red, like a fresh wound. His domain felt... strained. Weakened by the forced intrusion and the violent severing.

He had escaped. But at a cost. And he knew, with chilling certainty, the Abyssal Lock, and whatever controlled it, would not forget. He had touched something ancient, something forbidden. And it would be coming for him.

A new player had just entered the game. Or rather, an old one had just been reawakened. And it was pissed.

---

Deep within the lowest, most secure levels of the Valerius Spire, in a chamber shielded by layers of reality-warping technology and ancient wards, Director Gabriel stared at a softly glowing console. His usual calm was fractured, his pale blue eyes wide with disbelief and something akin to fear.

The console displayed a single, stark message, pulsing with ominous red light:

** ABYSSAL LOCK – QUARANTINE BREACH – ANOMALY-774 SIGNATURE DETECTED – CONTAINMENT FAILURE IMMINENT **

"No," Gabriel whispered, his voice barely audible. "It can’t be. He couldn’t have..."

He slammed his fist onto the console. Alarms blared throughout the Spire, unseen, unheard by the city above. Red lights flashed, casting long, dancing shadows.

"All units!" he roared into his comm, his voice cracking with uncharacteristic urgency. "Containment Protocol Omega is void! Initiate Protocol Zero! I repeat, Protocol Zero! The Lock is active! Seal the lower levels! No one gets in! No one gets out!"

He stared at the pulsing red message, the implications crashing down on him. Fin Carver hadn’t just evaded them. He hadn’t just stolen an artifact. He had stumbled into something far older, far more dangerous than any Mana Cell. He had poked the sleeping god in its cage.

And now, it was waking up. And it was very, very angry.

"What have you done, boy?" Gabriel breathed, a cold dread settling in his heart. "What in all the hells have you unleashed?"

The game had just escalated beyond anyone’s control.

--- END OF Chapter ---

--- START OF FILE Chapter 131.md ---

The dust settled slowly in the main hall. Fin pushed himself up from the cold stone floor, every muscle protesting. His head throbbed, a dull counterpoint to the burning ache in his chest where the Mark of Dominance pulsed with a faint, angry red light. The forced escape from the Abyssal Lock chamber had taken a toll, not just on him, but on the very fabric of his domain. He could feel it – a subtle weakness, a tremor in the ambient energy of the castle.

Meg coughed beside him, pushing hair back from her pale face. "Fin? Are you... are you okay?" Her voice was shaky, her eyes wide with lingering terror from their brush with the void.

Arachne was already on her feet, though she swayed slightly, one hand pressed to her side where Fin knew she’d taken a hit before they breached the Lock chamber. "My Lord," she said, her voice tight with strain, "that... that was the Abyssal Lock. I never thought... The legends are true."

"Legends?" Fin rasped, his throat dry. He forced himself to stand, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over him. "What legends?"

"A containment device," Arachne explained, her gaze distant, unfocused, as if recalling ancient, terrifying tales. "Forged by the First Admins, some say. To imprison entities that even they could not destroy. Things from... before."

’Before what?’ The question hung in the air, but Fin didn’t ask. He had a more pressing concern. He looked around the main hall. Empty. Just the three of them.

"Scarlet," he said, his voice suddenly sharp. "Mara. Where are they?"

Meg looked confused. "Weren’t they... I thought they were with us?"

Arachne’s head snapped up, her eyes clearing, focusing on Fin. "My Lord, they remained outside the chamber. In the Spire’s sub-levels. When we... when you opened the door to the Lock, they were still engaging Unit 7."

The words hit Fin like a physical blow. He’d been so focused on Meg and Arachne, on escaping the crushing power of the Lock, that he hadn’t... He’d left them. He’d sealed the door, trapping them on the other side with Association killers and whatever horrors Gabriel was unleashing now.

A cold fury, sharper and more focused than the earlier blind rage, surged through him. His fault. His responsibility. He’d brought them into this.

"Damn it," he growled, clenching his fists. The red-tinged Mark on his chest pulsed in response. He felt the strain on his domain, the weakness in his own reserves. Opening another portal now, back into the heart of a locked-down Association Spire... it would be dangerous. Possibly reckless.

He didn’t care.

"Arachne," he snapped, his voice leaving no room for argument. "How quickly can you recover enough to fight?"

Arachne straightened, her earlier weakness seemingly suppressed by sheer willpower. "I am functional, my Lord. Give me ten minutes, and I will be... adequate."

"Meg," he turned to her. She looked terrified, but met his gaze. "Stay here. Seal the castle if anything tries to follow us back. Use the main hall command rune – Arachne showed you how."

"Fin, no!" Meg cried, grabbing his arm. "You can’t go back there! You barely made it out! And the castle... Arachne said your domain is strained!"

"They’re trapped because of me," he said, his voice flat, final. He gently removed her hand from his arm. "I’m not leaving them."

He closed his eyes, forcing down the pain, the exhaustion. He pictured the sub-level maintenance tunnel outside the Abyssal Lock chamber. The smell of sulfur and ozone. The glint of Association armor. He focused on the Mark, pouring his will into it, demanding it respond despite the strain.

Reality tore open before him again, but this portal was smaller, less stable than before. It wavered, flickering at the edges, the view through it distorted, streaked with static-like interference. It hummed with a dissonant, angry energy.

"That looks... bad," Meg whispered, shrinking back from the unstable gateway.

"It’ll hold," Fin stated, though he felt the drain, the protest from his weakened domain. "Long enough." He looked at Arachne. "Ready?"

She nodded, drawing the twin dark knives she’d retrieved from the armory before. Her human eyes, though still wide with the memory of the Abyssal Lock, now held a grim determination.

"Watch our backs, Meg," Fin said, giving her one last look. Then he stepped into the shimmering, unstable tear. Arachne followed a heartbeat later, a silent shadow merging with the chaotic light.

The portal snapped shut abruptly, leaving Meg alone in the vast, silent hall, the echo of its violent closure reverberating through the ancient stones.

---

The air hit them like a furnace blast – hot, thick, choking with the smell of burnt metal, ozone, and something else... something that smelled like cooked meat. Fin stumbled as he stepped out of the portal, the transition rougher this time. The maintenance tunnel outside the Abyssal Lock chamber was a scene of carnage.

The reinforced door to the Lock chamber was still sealed, but the tunnel itself was a wreck. Walls were scorched, buckled. Pipes had burst, spewing scalding steam and acrid fumes. And bodies.

Three members of Unit 7 lay twisted on the metal grating, their advanced armor blackened, melted in places, limbs contorted at unnatural angles. They weren’t just dead; they were... vaporized in spots.

And in the center of the carnage, leaning heavily against a section of relatively intact wall, was Scarlet.

Her red hair was matted with blood and grime. Her clothes were shredded, exposing multiple severe burns that blistered her pale skin. One arm hung uselessly at her side, clearly broken. She held a smoking, heavy-caliber Association pistol in her good hand, its energy cell depleted, using it like a club. She was surrounded by the cooling, grotesque remains of what looked like... more Unit 7 operatives. At least two, possibly three, their forms barely recognizable amidst the melted armor and scorched flesh.

She looked up as Fin and Arachne emerged, a wild, triumphant, utterly feral grin splitting her bloodied face.

"Took you long enough, Boss," she rasped, her voice hoarse. She coughed, spitting a gob of bloody phlegm onto the grating. "Party got a little out of hand after you left."

Fin stared at the scene, then at Scarlet. He’d expected to find her dead, or captured. Not... this. Not surrounded by the burning wreckage of an elite Association kill squad.

"What... what did you do?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.