A grin spread wide on the bare copy of Sterling Prescott, too stiff to feel real on those polished noble bones. Out of nowhere, sharp purple fire poured through the fake eyes, lighting up the wet drip gathering underfoot. That old force back above ground did nothing like giving up the time-worshipper. Instead, it hijacked the Harvester's living wires and pushed its mind straight into rows of identical bodies.
Vance moved without pause, trying what his body could do now. Twenty-four hours earlier, every breath was a fight against crumbling bones and shredded tissue. This time, the machine inside him pulsed steadily, pouring thick strength into nerves starved for order. He shoved upward from the metal grate; his leg fired like coiled lightning - no tremor, no ache, nothing left of the old rot. A blur crossed the gap between him and the stolen double - fast, sharp, sudden. Upward surged the blade made of hardened carbon steel, its path set on the whirling gold cog lodged in the copy's torso.
It didn't try to move out of the way. Instead, the figure lifted an arm slick with moisture. From that palm came a sudden pull, like space itself bent inward - stopping Vance's weapon in its path. The force pressed hard enough to break the blade, yet something was different now. His body had changed. With feet fixed firm, tissue rebuilt and tight, he held steady. The impact flowed into him, gone without harm.
"Your little clockwork toy fed you, thief," the entity mocked, using Sterling's vocal cords to produce a melodic, ancient hum. "But a single meal does not make you a predator."
Just as the copy moved to smash Vance's tool, Elena - guided by the Harvester - stepped in. Inside the pyramid, rules snapped into place, treating the purple gravity surge like a dangerous glitch needing instant removal. The pale girl shot forward, brushing past him without a glance, aiming instead at the bigger disruption. Her dense crimson beam slashed through the air, cutting clean across the duplicate's lifted arm mid-motion.
Black goo burst from Sterling's chest instead of blood. When the stuff hit the railing, it sizzled like rain on hot stone. Stumbling back, the copy's purple eyes burned with rage - its gaze locked onto the Harvester floating nearby.
A sudden lurch forward - that was Axiom's move. Low and quick, the shadow-lynx crouched close to the ground, aware that fighting two divine-level threats at once meant certain downfall. Power surged through its limbs, pulled from leftover currents humming in the air. With a deep pulse, it fired raw darkness outward like thunder made solid. Metal groaned below the dueling figures as unseen forces locked the grid into fierce polarity. Both Elena and the Violet-Sterling found themselves stuck fast, bodies pressed down while flames of crimson and purple exploded around them in jagged rings.
"Close the hatch!" Vance yelled, his voice fighting against the roaring black noise. His hand clamped down on Elian's shoulder, pushing him forward - stumbling - the boy frozen with fear, barely seventeen, aimed at the thick, angular panel built into the cliffside drop.
Fingers fumbling, Elian reached for the lock. Shaking hard, yet something deep from outside training kicked in. The keypad's cover tore free when he ripped it apart - then straight into the wires, crossing them without looking. A sharp hiss came as the thick door lifted, unveiling a shadowed ramp that angled down.
Vance stepped back slowly, gaze fixed on the clash where sterile red beams met untamed purple forces. Though the drone kept firing, its efforts faltered under relentless pressure. Instead of holding, the construct around it twisted - gravity pinching sections into collapse. Cracks raced along the tubes suspended above the drop, thin splits spreading like roots through thick glass. Something old and buried pushed against every node, trying to seize control all at once.
Down the maintenance tunnel, Vance met a slick slope - then slipped fast into black. Axiom dropped in just after. With a thud, the thick door sealed tight, shutting out the glare and screech of gears above.
Down they went, fast yet over quick. Out the chute they tumbled, landing hard on a broad platform built thick against strain. Cold bit at them here, nothing like the cloying heat left behind near cloning tanks. Light glowed dull orange, pushing dark shapes that stretched and bent through the open space.
On his feet fast, Vance stood tall, no ache anywhere. A rush came over him - his body now matching what his mind had long demanded. Air filled his chest in slow, rich draws. Blood moved strong and even beneath his skin. The wide training ground stretched before him, eyes scanning every corner. In hand, the blade waited, silent.
Above ground, it wasn't just for repairs. Hidden beneath: rows of robotic arms prepping ships nonstop.
Hanging overhead, hundreds of bulky, sharp-edged drop-pods clung to ceiling-mounted magnetic tracks. Built only for fast plunges through atmosphere, they soaked up light with smooth, dark surfaces. Through the vast chamber, mechanical arms glided without sound, unnervingly precise - shifting newly grown Sterling Prescott copies straight into waiting capsules.
It's more than guards for the pyramid, Elian said under his breath. Down he moved, unsteady on his feet, reaching the rim of the platform. Below, through thick glass, something vast came into view. His hand shook as it stretched forward, aimed at the huge doors now sliding open beneath the ship's outer shell.
That heartbeat thudded, loud and strange, inside Vance's chest as he moved toward the glass. Beyond the wide-open bay doors, the Citadel stretched out - walls thick, lights blazing down across the dark land. Not here just to watch, these Harvesters. Their sharp-edged ship hung above Earth's main city like a threat made real. Up close now, they filled drop capsules with rows upon rows of high-level cloned bodies.
A shadow moved through the ruins, its shape matching the one they'd once cheered. The end did not roar - instead, it
stepped forward in familiar boots.