Under Vance's feet, the solid metal floor heaved like a living thing. Though buried deep within the shattered vault, its dense walls muffled yet failed to silence the blasts - Prescott's time-bending strikes hammered through bone. Each pulse arrived late, warped by layers of frozen moments, but still sharp enough to make his jaw ache.
Vance stood still, eyes fixed on the cryo-pod tucked into the farthest curve of the round jail. A low thrum came from the modified med-unit - smooth, built for endurance, marked by a silver wolf emblem tied to the Argent group. Beneath thick glass and icy goop, the real Sterling Prescott moved one shaky palm toward the barrier, fingers numb, skin cracked from cold.
Out here stood the one they once called Vanguard's star. Wrapped around Sterling, the suit - once spotless white with gold trim - hung broken now, its surface burned from plasma fire, ripped near the elbows and knees, nothing like the flawless look it carried before that erased future.
Again he spoke into the speaker, words cracking like broken glass - "Kill me.".
Instead of slamming the carbon-steel blade into the glass, Vance paused. Inside his bones, a quiet shift held him steady despite the shaking ground beneath. From time spent on the Harvester's level, radiation now lived in his blood, changing things deep down. That altered foot - rebuilt under pressure - no longer carried that thin, breaking sensation it once did. What stood out was the strange weight of his bones, dense like they'd been filled with something far heavier than blood. Not quite right, how each limb felt anchored by a quiet force. Humming beneath his skin now - a kind of restrained surge - his rebuilt muscles carried a strength that didn't waver. Like tension held still before motion.
A sharp chill pressed into the back of his head, fighting every breath he took. Not warmth, but a dead cold - like frozen gas stuck deep where nerves meet bone. When Vance moved toward the vibrating pod, the freeze inside him throbbed, slow and cruel, syncing with each step.
"The Argent Cartel didn't just stumble upon this facility," Vance stated, keeping his tone flat and entirely pragmatic. He watched Sterling's panicked eyes dart across the cramped, dimly lit cell. "They ambushed you in the Crimson Woods. They dragged you down here to study the Mythic-tier bond."
"They sold me," Sterling choked out, a bloody froth bubbling at the corner of his pale lips. "Julian Thorne orchestrated the ambush. The Obsidian Cartel brokered a deal with the Harvesters. They used my original genetic template to print the army."
Crouched by the splintered edge of the vault door streaked with violet light, Elian held his breath, eyes locked on the cave mouth. Cold stillness pressed against his skin while he gripped a slab of broken wall like an anchor. Sixteen years old, trained in gears and grime, yet now frozen by something deeper than fear. Inside that cramped space, Axiom moved - tight circles, restless steps - one large shape cloaked in black so deep it drank what little glow remained. That fur hummed, alive with energy siphoned from the fallen war machine. Not quite natural, never silent - the lynx emitted a rumble low enough to shake bone rather than ear. It felt time bending just past the opening, twisted out of place, wrong - and responded without words.
"If the Harvesters already have your DNA, your death changes nothing," Vance argued, resting the flat of his blade against the frosted glass. "They have thousands of dormant copies hanging in the pyramid."
Sterling slammed his forehead against the viewport, leaving a smear of red across the frost. "You don't understand what that winged thing is doing! She isn't just hijacking the clones individually. She is using my original neurological network as the primary server bridge. If my brain remains active, she can mass-upload her consciousness into the entire assembly line simultaneously. If you sever my brainstem, you sever the signal."
Sharp angles of combat clicked together suddenly. Not destroyed by the Harvester's red light across the land, the six-winged figure from below had instead seen a smarter path. Control came fast - by taking the first body that ever held the Watcher's shard, she reached every copy made by that twisted shape. No delay. All versions answered now. Power shifted without noise or flash. Her move rewired everything. Silence followed - not emptiness, but full command.
Vance studied the boy whose command had once ended his life, offering only a loose grin. Back then, Sterling took everything - dignity, years ahead, breath itself - and dropped him like forgotten wreckage into the deep stone dark.
A shiver ran through him - once proud leader, now just a sobbing wreck inside a Cartel ice vault. Power gone, voice cracking, he pleaded with the one he'd hurt most to make it stop.
"Do it!" Sterling screamed through the crackling speaker, his eyes rolling back wildly. "The cold is stopping her, but the pod's coolant is failing! I can hear her in my head! She is digging through my memories!"
Fingers clenched around the blade's handle, hard. Stopping Sterling shut down the nightmare of an army moving as one mind. That act fed something raw inside him - revenge, long simmering, sparked the moment consciousness returned in flesh too young.
A sharp alert flashed behind his eyes, sudden and gold. His body's hidden defenses had triggered without delay.
Original mythic tier core identified during target evaluation
Status remains inactive. Still carries strong potential for sudden shifts
Break the body, trigger the bomb right away
Falling backward through time, Vance plunges the blade deep - Sterling's head splits open. Golden threads snap like overstretched wire when the heir's ancient armor bursts apart. Crushed inside this narrow gap between seconds, the blast cooks flesh down to specks before sound even has a chance to echo.
"Axiom," Vance commanded, stepping back from the viewport. "Drain the pod's power supply. I need the life support systems offline to disable the explosive failsafes before I cut his throat."
It moved without pause, that shadow-lynx. Seeing what had to happen, it sprang ahead - claws crackling as they tore into thick wires stretched from wall to machine. A surge of blackened energy pulsed when the creature gulped down raw voltage like breath.
A low whine shuddered through the cryo chamber. Frost on the viewport cracked loose, sliding down in streaks across the smooth steel beneath.
Out came a shaky breath from Sterling, his stiff frame sinking into the cushioned seat. Relief washed over him like warm rain, armor creaking softly. The words slipped out quiet, almost fragile - "I appreciate that." His eyelids dropped, heavy with exhaustion. Get it done quickly, he meant to say, but only silence followed
Fingers tightening around the blade, Vance edged closer - the pane cracking under pressure, thin fractures spreading like frost. A single thrust would pierce through, drive the metal deep where the pulse flickered just beneath Sterling's skin. The cold edge hovered, waiting for the break that would let it slip between breaths.
Frost crept through the air just as the blade started forward, cold rushing in like a silent scream. The round cell shrank under sudden ice, time nearly stopping between breaths.
Water melted from the pod, then froze fast, hanging sharp in the air like broken glass. Pain exploded where the mark burned on Vance's neck. Cold pierced him, deeper than bone, locking his body still. His muscles locked tight, frozen by a chill that cut through steel.
Frozen breath cut through the dark when Sterling Prescott woke. A heartbeat passed before he moved.
A quiet stillness settled where sobs once broke through. Violet fire flooded both eyes, fierce enough to burn sight away. Fear had vanished, erased like chalk from stone. What remained wore calm older than memory - yet clung to young skin, oddly mismatched, unsettling in its peace.
Fresh off the server, the file settled into place.
Always quick to smash what you own, aren't you, small thieving thing," sang the taken Sterling. Not a single speaker carried it; instead, that smooth female tune slipped past ears, landing straight inside each prisoner's head.
A sudden crush collapsed the cryo pod's thick glass - not a break, but a violent pull from within. A burst of dense gravity warped space just long enough to slam the structure inward. Out spilled the suspension fluid, spreading fast across the tight chamber before turning stiff in midair. Cold seized every droplet the moment it escaped.
A figure emerged from broken gears and twisted metal. Cold air bit at everything around him - yet he stood still. His armored shell, built tough but now cracked and scarred, creaked under its own weight. Light like purple lightning surged through his limbs, stitching together shattered layers from within.
Floor met boot - he pushed hard, lifting steel. No escape here. A circle, ten feet wide, held them both, pl
us something awake buried beneath.