Into the dim red glow of the isolation passage moved Elena. Her steps held no sudden jumps, none of the violent time fractures seen before among the crimson rocks. Guided wholly by the cold reasoning of the Harvester structure, each motion flowed like clockwork precision. Up came the slender weapon - built from tight beams of red light - its form sharp and angular. At Vance's neck level, it cut sideways without hesitation.
Back he jerked, trading stability just to stay alive. Hitting on his right foot lit up pain everywhere. Had those fifteen years of natural marrow not been drained by Axiom - welding broken foot bones together - the impact would've snapped everything [cite: 654-655, 658-659]. His sole now seemed made of crumbling volcanic ash, ready to burst on the dark, matte floor. Over his good leg he rolled, scrambling away from the shimmering edge. That sharp twist tugged at the jagged wire sutures holding shut his left arm, dragging them across torn tissue [cite: 360-362, 394-395]. Like a red-hot filament slicing deep into muscle - that's how it stung.
A split second before, his head was there - now only air remained as the bright light-cut slashed past. Heat from the crimson beam pressed against his face, sharp and sudden, while deep inside, a freezing mark burned at the back of his mind like something not born on Earth. This icy signal pulsed without pause, dragging what little life he had left toward a web of metal and code.
Axiom did not step back. Instead, the shadow-lynx surged forward, pulsing with jagged energy siphoned from the collapsing hull of the Argent Dreadnought. Its claws lashed out, charged with black fire, meeting the red blade mid-swing. Light split on contact, exploding into noise so sharp it hurled Elian through air until stone stopped him.
Grace moved through Elena like water dodging stone. Momentum shifted, her blade tearing a bright line along the creature's side. Red light cut air as Axiom roared, thick blood spilling on clean patterns below. Voltage surged sudden - muscle to metal - and shock threw the girl back, boots skidding just enough. White hair flew past her face when the spark hit.
Vance got up fast, hand clenched around his steel blade till the fingers went pale. Facing down a Harvester drone dressed in the flesh of a top-tier talent shouldn't have been doable - least of all for a kid barely twenty strapped into an old broken shell of a frame.
Pillars - go!" Vance barked, his words ragged between gasps. By the grimy fabric of his uniform, he yanked Elian forward, dragging him beneath the heavy dark pooled around the stone supports. From behind, Axiom fired jagged streaks of midnight energy, unpredictable and fierce, making the red-eyed figure parry again and again just to stay whole.
Out here inside the lockdown zone, everything felt wrong. Dark metal surfaces swallowed the light, so dim it almost vanished, save for faint crimson lines stitched through the flooring - those were what showed them where to go. The size of the place pressed down, hard; Vance could feel it in his chest, each breath sharp and shallow. That rebuilt leg wasn't helping - the one made of scrap and old tech - its weight pulling at him with every slow shuffle forward. Air came through the vents flat, sterile, missing the grit and burnt smell he'd come to expect from the Fracture.
A sharp cry escaped Elian when his knees hit the cold metal, having stumbled on a raised line cutting across the floor. Crouched low, he did not scramble up, but fixed his eyes on the thin glow of red running through the groove.
"This isn't just a floor," the sixteen-year-old mechanic whispered, tracing the illuminated line with a trembling, dirt-caked finger. "It's a conveyance track. In Sector Seven, the automated slaughterhouses use these specific layouts to move bulk material across the processing floors. There has to be an exhaust or a maintenance node where these primary tracks converge."
Back among the tall stone columns, Vance saw Elena coming closer. Not fast, just steady. Her pace matched their tiredness, like something cold had planned it. Each step she took made the burn on his neck throb in reply - some kind of link between them. That mark wasn't only pain; it was tracking. Hiding wouldn't last much longer.
His fingers pressed hard around the blade he could not use. "See where it meets," Vance told the child beside him.
Down they went, tracing the red lines into the huge hollow space where sounds bounced off walls. Merging together, the shining paths poured into a round dip on the ground, covered by thick metal plates locked tight. Sliding came Vance, slipping along the slick slope, mist rising from each breath in the sharp chill. At the rim of the sunken pit stood Axiom, planted firm, a rumble building deep in its chest. From thirty yards out, through dim shadows, Elena's eyes cut like clean light - red, steady, unblinking.
The lid won't budge," Elian gasps, fingers scrambling against the cold metal plate. Yet it holds fast, locked by unseen force. His breath hitches mid-air, caught between panic and effort. Each pull does nothing. The frame stays shut, drawn tight by magnetic grip. Silence answers his struggle, thick and unyielding.
Vance hit the ground hard, shoving his blade into the tiny crack where the metal pieces met. With every ounce of strength he pushed down on the handle, pain tearing through his arm like fire but he did not stop. The wound screamed at him yet he pressed forward, bone-deep tiredness ignored. His arms shook, muscles locked, breath ragged - still the knife drove deeper.
Axiom!" he shouted, voice crackling along the Parasitic Tether. Overloading the track now - power surging without warning. Voltage spiked mid-transmission, sharp and sudden. The command tore through like a wire snap. Systems screamed in response, raw and unfiltered. Feedback howled back at him, relentless
A sudden crash echoed as the shadow-lynx drove its crackling claws down on the pulsing crimson channels leading into the hollow. Through the pyramid surged a wave of gritty black noise, scrambling clean rows of wiring. Underneath Vance's weapon, hidden clamps burst apart in flashes of bright spark - then the thick metal plate shuddered open with a deep metallic cry.
A sudden drop opened under their feet.
Falling headfirst, Vance hit the slick slope first, then Elian, then Axiom - sliding now like pebbles down glass. Speed blurred everything; up became down and left vanished mid-air. Without warning, the tube spat them out, bodies thudding onto a thin platform hung over nothing. Light faded behind them, cold metal groaned under their weight.
Footsteps heavy, Vance reached the metal rail, chest tight, air snagging sharp in his lungs when he peered down. The drop waited below, silent, close.
Beyond them opened up a huge space below, lit bright as day, going on forever in all directions. Floating inside countless clear pods - like bubbles filled with fluid - strung through the massive machine canyon were none of the usual things: no caged creatures, no loose strands of life-stuff pulled from labs, nothing taken from wandering spirits.
Floating below the walkway, row after row held perfect copies - each one a twin of Sterling Prescott, that so-called hero who killed Vance long ago [cite: 28, 383-384]. Not one moved; each body housed a bright gold gear turning steady in its ribcage. These still forms churned out pieces
of the broken deity vanished into silence.