The world shrank to a pinpoint of terror. The focused petrifying blast from Marla's vipers was cold, an instant, freezing paralysis that seized my body. I was trapped within my own stone prison, a silent, agonizing second of consciousness watching Marla dive toward my chest. Then came the shattering. A brilliant flash of white-hot pain and the deafening sound of crystalline rupture, followed by an absolute, crushing darkness.
I was gone.
Then, slowly, the cold dissolved around me. A profound warmth washed over me, a feeling of security and infinite space. A soft, otherworldly light bloomed around me, revealing a swirling, prismatic landscape of violet and sapphire—the internal lattice of the Bismuth Transformation Crystal. I was in Herja's World. I was no longer in control of a body, but simply a point of shimmering light, a soul afloat. Directly in front of me, radiating an immense sense of calm and power, was Herja. She stood with the serenity of a goddess, holding my suspended, sparkling consciousness in her cupped hands.
"Welcome back, Ash," Herja's voice resonated, not in my ears, but in the deepest part of my soul. "You are safe. They took the Core, but they didn't get your mind. I am carrying your memory now, like a save point."
The scene snapped to the sterile, muted blues of CENO's central research division. Marla, her Medusa form gleaming with the sweat of battle, stood beside the hulking Agent Kobba. She held the pulsing Herja Core—the Bismuth crystal—aloft like a captured flag. Doctor Syn rushed forward, her eyes wide, a frantic expression breaking her usual cold facade. "Marla! Excellent work! Quickly, to the primary interface chamber!"
But before Syn could take the crystal, a new figure stepped into the light. Commander Mya Tarq, clad in a sharp, gunmetal gray uniform, was flanked by two security guards. Her presence exuded ruthless authority. "Stand down, Doctor Syn," Commander Tarq ordered, her voice cutting and devoid of warmth. "The Herja project is now under new management."
Syn froze, her face slack with disbelief.
"Your proximity to the subject and your recent, shall we say, emotional intensity regarding its acquisition suggests a dangerous lapse in scientific objectivity," Tarq continued, her gaze unwavering. "Effective immediately, the project is being transferred to Doctor Ishimoto."
Syn let out a high-pitched, desperate cry. "No! You can't take her from me! She is mine! I built her!"
Mya Tarq didn't flinch. She nodded to the two guards. They seized Doctor Syn immediately, pinning her arms. As Syn struggled, screaming objections, one of the guards produced a syringe and plunged it into her neck. Syn's eyes rolled back, and the fight instantly drained out of her, her body going limp. Marla watched the shocking display in professional silence.
She had been close to Doctor Syn, the only person at CENO who treated her with a modicum of respect. A flicker of emotion—a passing shadow of dismay—crossed her features, a fleeting acknowledgment of the cold, brutal power of the corporation she now served.
She quickly forced the unwelcome feeling back down, her face returning to a mask of cold professionalism as the guards dragged Doctor Syn's unconscious body toward a holding cell. The Medusa Core was a chilling prize, and she had just learned that at CENO, no allegiance was permanent.
Back in the cavernous sanctuary of the Gutter Nest, Felicity was hunched over the glowing Zohar Codex Fragment, her brow furrowed in concentration. The air was calm, but the silence was suddenly shattered.
A searing, phantom pain—sharp as glass and cold as the petrifying blast—lanced through Felicity's mind. She had been linked to Ash in the moment of capture, but the catastrophic severance of the Herja Core sent a psychic shockwave right through her.
Felicity gasped, doubling over. A choked cry escaped her lips as she clutched her head, the violet glow in her tech eye sputtering and dimming. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt—the raw, agonizing death of a soul's connection to its anchor.
"Ash!" she whispered, her voice laced with panic. "The link! It's gone!"
Beside her, The Hand let out a high-pitched, metallic whine. The giant machine staggered, its massive form leaning to one side. Its single red optic flickered erratically, and the low, steady hum of its active systems sputtered into silence. Without the direct, guiding psychic link to Ash, its commander, The Hand was disoriented, confused, and temporarily inert—a hulking fortress suddenly struck dumb.
Felicity fought through the blinding psychic noise. Her gaze darted to where she last remembered Ash's presence, and a horrifying truth settled over her.
"They didn't just get him," she whispered, her voice shaking with devastating certainty. "They got the Core."
The disorientation was momentary, but the devastation was absolute. Felicity knelt on the rough floor, fighting through the searing psychic pain that echoed the shattering of Ash's essence. Her entire world—her partner, her anchor—was gone, ripped from the world and contained within CENO's hands. But the fear was quickly replaced by a cold, searing rage. Felicity pushed herself up, her jaw clenched. She wiped the tears and psychic residue from her eyes, and her violet-glowing tech optic snapped into sharp focus. The inert, massive form of The Hand stood beside her, confused and waiting.
With a deep breath, Felicity reached out with every ounce of her prodigious psychic power, bypassing the familiar route that Ash had used. She didn't ask The Hand for a connection; she commanded it. She flooded its systems with her own consciousness, a forceful takeover of its neural network. The Hand's internal whine cut off abruptly. Its red optic stabilized, not with the warm presence of Ash, but with the sharp, cold clarity of its new, temporary commander. It was hers. Felicity vaulted onto The Hand's broad forearm, gripping its bio-steel casing. Her voice, usually soft and melodious, was now tight with vengeful purpose.
"I'll get them for this," she vowed, the threat ringing through the empty cavern. She gave a single, telepathic command. The Hand's massive form launched forward, its new X-Buster digit glowing faintly as it tore off into the Vein, leaving the sanctuary of the Gutter Nest behind, now running on a solitary path of righteous fury.
The transition was jarring. From the cool, righteous fury of Felicity speeding through the Vein, the scene cut to the antiseptic, humming environment of a CENO laboratory. The captured Herja Core—the shimmering Bismuth Transformation Crystal—was secured within a high-tech containment field, its violet light muted by a focusing lens.
Doctor Ishimoto, a sharp, precise scientist with small, circular glasses and a perpetually calm demeanor, leaned over the crystal. Commander Mya Tarq's mandate was clear: the project was too valuable for Syn's emotional influence. Ishimoto's job was to treat the core as a pure data set.
"Stabilizing energy output. Monitoring residual consciousness," Ishimoto murmured to an unseen technician. He adjusted a dial, increasing the intensity of the internal sensors aimed at the crystal.
Inside the core's luminous matrix, Ash's swirling consciousness was held safe by Herja. But outside, Ishimoto was probing.
"Output is anomalous. The core is intact, but the subject's primary neurological pattern—what they refer to as 'Ash'—is being held separate from the genetic matrix, shielded by an internal psychic partition," Ishimoto stated clinically, tapping his data pad. "Syn's initial theory was correct: the core is merely a hardware bridge. The true mind is acting as a 'saved state' within the substrate."
He moved to the next phase, adjusting a mechanical arm that hovered over the crystal. "Initiating Phase Two: External Stress Test. We must determine the core's breaking point and begin the process of data extraction. Prepare to introduce an anti-psychic frequency."
As the humming in the lab intensified, the vibrant, stable light of the Herja Core began to flicker under the digital assault. Inside Herja's world, Ash's shimmering consciousness began to tremble violently. The extraction process had begun.
The anti-psychic frequency test escalated, morphing into a pulsing wave of harmonics designed to destabilize the Bismuth matrix. Inside Herja's world, the vibrant light began to shudder violently. Ash's shimmering consciousness was thrown into turmoil, his mind battered by the external pressure.
"Hold on, Ash!" Herja commanded, her voice strained. Her massive form knelt down, completely enveloping Ash's swirling light. She drew on the deepest reserves of the Core itself, the raw, structural energy of the Bismuth crystal. Her goal wasn't to fight the external force, but to shield his presence. She mentally erected a thick, crystalline barrier around his consciousness, transforming the swirling violet landscape into a solid, unyielding fortress of dark. The exterior assault met only a blank wall of static resistance.
In the observation booth, Commander Mya Tarq watched the stress test with rapt attention.
"Output is stabilizing against the introduced frequency," Doctor Ishimoto reported clinically, reading the complex waveforms on his screen. Tarq's eyes, however, were fixed on the concept of the "saved state."
"So, you're telling me this beast crystal is holding the secret to immortality?" she asked, her voice tight with excitement. "A core that can hold a mind intact, ready to be rebounded to new hardware indefinitely?"
Ishimoto, ever the pragmatist, merely shrugged. "The data suggests the consciousness is protected within the core's structure, Commander. The implications for synthetic longevity are... significant."
Ishimoto performed one final action, sending a calculated harmonic pulse through the containment field. He watched the resultant readings flicker across his monitors—data that detailed the core's resilience and the surprising strength of the internal shield. Satisfied, he tapped a command on his console.
"The test cycle is complete for now," he announced. "Sealing the lab. I require six hours of mandated sleep for cognitive function retention. The Core is secured."
With a final, decisive click, the containment field powered down into a low standby mode, the lights dimming. Ishimoto calmly gathered his files and exited the room, leaving the Herja Core alone and silent in the vast CENO facility, unaware that a precious, temporary window of opportunity had just opened.