Chapter 121 Under Attack [Light]

I woke up feeling a pulse of energy running through my veins, the kind of surge that only came after a long stretch of quiet plotting. Three days had passed since Mrs. Mind told me the SRC had found our base. She thought I didn’t know every detail of what she saw, but I did. Mrs. Mind could perceive alternate futures through Missive’s sight, and Paleman, clever as he was, could link his mind to hers. Through him, those visions became mine. A chain of psychic echoes, all leading back to me. Inefficient, maybe, but it worked. If foresight tech hadn’t been lost to the Dark Ages, I’d have grafted it into myself long ago.

If Missive and Eclipse were already here, I’d have made Dr. Sequence move the Tenfold Keep. What was taking them so long? Did those two run off together? The thought made my teeth grind.

“If that happened,” I muttered to the ceiling, “I’d lose my marbles.”

Missive was mine, my quarry, and my key to perfection. Devouring her and the child, the prophet said, would elevate me beyond my limits. But Dr. Sequence kept whining that her body was still too young. “Wait until seventeen,” he said, “at least then the operation won’t collapse her neural lattice.” He always spoke like that, as if I cared for her well-being.

A soft movement stirred beside me. “You’re awake,” came a voice as smooth as smoke. Lovelies. Her hand slid across my abdomen, nails tracing lazy circles lower.

“So feisty,” I murmured, biting back a grin. “Say, Lovelies, you can let me go now.”

“Oh?” she teased as she continued to fondle my tool, shifting her form as her lips hovered near my ear. “Is the mighty guardian of the Ten thinking of backing out now?”

I chuckled. “I got errands to run, woman.”

Lovelies laughed, her skin brightening into a new shade, her curves morphing subtly. A shapeshifter with psychic flair. She was dangerous, exhilarating, and impossible to resist. She always knew how to draw me close and how to test my focus.

When I finally stood, dressing piece by piece, she watched with that knowing smile. “Another time, Lovelies,” I said, tightening my cuffs.

“You say that every time,” she purred, her form rippling until she became the likeness of that new actress I’d seen last night on the TV. “You’re such a playboy, Ning.”

I smirked, tugging on my coat. “And you love me for it.”

“Oh, it’s you who keeps coming back for more, and not me…”

Well, she was such a good fuck, and even someone like me needed his small moments of levity.

I walked into the elevator where Dullahan was already waiting. Her bike, matte black with faint gray streaks running down its chassis like veins, took up half the space.

Dullahan leaned against it, one boot propped on the bumper, wearing that beaten leather jacket she loved so much. The thing was scratched and scuffed in all the right places, a relic of old wars and bad roads. Her helmet was nowhere to be seen, just that clean stump where her neck ended.

Even without a head, I could feel her stare. It was not psychic, just the kind of attention that lingered like a weight on the skin. Behind me, Lovelies shifted lazily in the sheets, still naked and very much unbothered.

I pressed the button for the fourth floor. The elevator doors hissed shut.

Dullahan sighed, arms crossing under her jacket. “We could use hallways and methods to ensure our privacy. I wish I didn’t have to see that.”

I grinned. “Oh, come on. You’re missing out on too much action.”

“You’re not getting in my pants, Ning.” Her tone was flat, deadpan. “No wonder you get along with Pervert. The two of you have equally sick minds.”

“Ah, he had potential, you know?” I said, glancing at the chrome reflection of my face in the bike’s mirror. “I can’t really control all these butterfly effects. Do you realize that, in another future, he would’ve become a fearsome intangibility user? But nooo… You just had to kill him. Now I’m stuck with that uncontrollable wreck.”

She turned her invisible gaze toward me. “I never knew you had precognition,” she said, voice dry. “You sound so sure of yourself.”

I smirked. “Let’s just say I’ve seen enough futures to know how predictable people can be.”

Her hand brushed along the handlebars of her bike, her version of crossing her arms, maybe. The elevator creaked as it ascended, a metallic heartbeat.

I felt the old temptation again to tell her the truth. To tell her that I was the real voice behind the Ten. But that would ruin the purpose of my lying low. I had plans that reached far past the end of the world. And I intend to see them through.

Dullahan finally broke the silence. “I’ve done what you asked. I’ve been keeping an eye on Eclipse.”

She paused, then asked, “But why are you so wary of him, Ning? You act like his friend, even defend him in front of the others… then you talk about him like a threat the second he leaves the room. What’s your goal in all this?”

The elevator dinged softly.

“That’s a secret,” I said as I stepped into the fourth floor, Assessor’s room.

No way I would admit it, because admitting it meant confessing weakness, and weakness wasn’t something I could afford. Still, I wasn’t worried. Once I reached perfection, not even death itself could catch up to me. The grim reaper could swing his scythe all he wanted, but my light would blind him before it ever touched me.

Right in the middle of the room sat Assessor, strapped to a chair. Paleman stood beside him, wordless, like a loyal statue. Beneath the chair was a puddle of blood, piss, and filth, a familiar mix of failure and fear.

Dullahan didn’t even need a face to look unimpressed.

I turned to her. “Bye-bye now. I’ve got to interrogate the traitor.”

She raised her hand and flipped me off.

I grinned and formed an “OK” sign with my fingers, lining it up in the air as if to “catch” her gesture in the circle. “Perfect aim,” I said, flashing her a grin.

Dullahan sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot with style,” I corrected, stepping into the room as the door hissed shut behind me.

When Dullahan was gone, I turned to Assessor. His mouth was gagged, but there wasn’t a mark on him. Not yet. Still, he trembled as though every nerve in his body was being played like a stringed instrument. Paleman’s touch always had that effect.

“So,” I asked, “did you finally manage to break him?”

“Yes,” Paleman said in that soft, reverberating voice of his, something between a whisper and an echo inside a hollow skull.

He was my masterpiece. Flesh sculpted into obedience. A man reshaped by light and circuitry into something that no longer resembled humanity. Paleman had no will outside of mine, no purpose except what I breathed into him. A perfect soldier. A perfect tool. I could lose everyone in the Ten… Dullahan, Lovelies, even Dr. Sequence… and still rebuild with just him.

“You can remove his gag now,” I ordered.

Paleman obeyed, peeling the strip of synthetic fabric from Assessor’s mouth. The man gasped and wheezed like he had just been pulled from drowning.

“P-Please,” he stammered, voice cracking. “It hurts too much… I… It hurts…”

“Then cooperate,” I said calmly, folding my arms. “If you do, I might give you a painless death.”

He shook his head frantically. “N-No, I can’t… I don’t want to die…”

I sighed, rubbing my temple. “No matter what happens, Assessor, you’re dead either way. You crossed the Ten. That’s a decision you can’t undo.” Then, I added. “Paleman, remind him what happens when people waste my time.”

Paleman didn’t hesitate. His hand gripped Assessor’s face, not to hit, but to touch. His fingers pulsed with faint light, and Assessor convulsed. It was a silent scream frozen in his throat before he could force it out. Paleman’s ability wasn’t a strength; it was precision. He could stimulate pain, fear, and despair all with the gentleness of a pianist playing his favorite keys.

Assessor broke in seconds.

“STOP! PLEASE! IT HURTS!” he screamed, thrashing against the restraints that wouldn’t budge. “KILL ME! KILL ME! I’LL TALK! I’LL TALK!”

“Good.” I leaned closer, voice steady. “Who helped you? Who was going to help you escape… and remove the little bomb I left you with? I guessed, I mean that in future tense, but you get the idea.”

His lips trembled, words spilling like vomit. “IT’S MISSIVE! SHE! SHE MADE A DEAL WITH ME! I TRIED TO USE MY POWER ON HER, BUT SHE FOUGHT BACK!”

I blinked. “Missive, huh?”

Interesting. So she’d been hiding her strength after all.

“And the bomb?” I pressed. “You couldn’t possibly remove it yourself. Who were you going to run to?”

“THE SRC!” he blurted. “I WAS GOING TO THEM!”

The SRC. Not Monarchy. That was… amusing. Desperate, but logical. They had the tech and the resources. He thought they’d protect him from me. I almost laughed. I stepped back, watching him shiver. “How predictable. Pathetic.”

Assessor whimpered, tears streaking his face. “Please… please, I did what you wanted, I told you everything… let me go…”

“Oh, I will,” I said, smiling faintly. “Just not the way you think.”

I turned to Paleman. “Don’t kill him. Put him in a jar. Tell Dr. Sequence I want his powers intact, mind, spine, everything. He can make something useful out of it. Then send what’s left to Mrs. Mind. Say, the brain… She could always make use of the brain.”

I smirked, adding, “She’s been asking for an extra processor. You know what I mean.”

I’d grown to hate using Missive’s precognition.

Not because it wasn’t useful. It was invaluable, especially because of the cost. Every time she “looped” the timeline back, Mrs. Mind would degrade. A small fissure here, a neural collapse there… memory corruption, confusion, loss of continuity. Each loop or precognition, as perceived by Mrs. Mind, rewrote her mind just a little more. Because of it, my only window into Missive’s foresight grew dimmer every time.

Paleman couldn’t access Missive’s head directly, since his touch was too invasive and too destructive. If he ever tried, she wouldn’t survive the first minute. Mrs. Mind could endure him because he had already “touched” and operated on her; I’d call it optimization, but others might use a harsher word. I didn’t want Missive to meet the same fate, not before she served her true purpose.

I was running through those thoughts when Mrs. Mind’s voice echoed in my head.

“Eclipse’s here.”

Finally.

It took the bastard long enough. I walked toward the nearest window and spotted the supply truck pulling up near the front. Two cargo pods were latched to its rear. A bike rolled alongside it, sleek, and on that bike was Eclipse with Missive pressed against his back.

I could almost feel the irritation threading through my grin. I descended the floors in a blur and stepped out just as the bike screeched to a stop.

“Eclipse, Missive!” I called, spreading my arms like a benevolent host. “That took you quite a while. I see you’ve given your bike an upgrade… new paint, new plating. Fancy. Though, maybe next time, you should spend less time on aesthetics and more on your mission, hm?”

Before Eclipse could respond, a tall figure walked behind me. It was Thirdhand. “Let’s get on with it,” he said. “I don’t want to miss my favorite show.”

Then it happened.

A distortion of air bloomed behind Missive. A wormhole. She turned and leaned backward as if pulled by invisible gravity, and she was gone. The wormhole collapsed instantly, leaving nothing but the faint smell of ozone and my reflection in the shattered light.

My face hardened. I knew that wormhole signature. It belonged to a future power,  an SRC asset who, in one version of events, became their strongest cape. He shouldn’t be at his full potential yet. Still, this turn of events was unacceptable.

I blurred forward, entering superspeed. Time folded like wet paper as I lunged straight for Eclipse, but the air around his bike shimmered, armament plating heating until it burst in a kinetic flare. A metal rod fired straight into my chest, a nullifier, judging by the cold burn crawling through me. It slammed me into the wall. The impact cracked the concrete. I felt genuine surprise.

Thirdhand’s voice trembled behind me.

“W-What’s that for!?”

I looked down at the rod embedded through my clothes. It's hum stuttered as my aura flared in response. I wrapped my fingers around it and slowly pried it free. Sparks fizzed at the wound before sealing shut.

I dropped to the ground, dust rolling off my boots.

Eclipse sat frozen on his bike, the glow of the armament fading.

I met his eyes, letting the silence hang, sharp and electric.

“Where’s Missive?” I asked. “I swear in my bones, I am going to kill you in the most painful way imaginable. Where’s Missive, Eclipse!?”