The room radiated cyan light, exposing truths Monarch Corps wanted hidden. On the display—an image of a boy living within Spine’s walls.

  Nera’s eyes dulled as she moved down the hallway toward him. Karauro. Karel. Ciro. Monarch’s discarded children—tossed out like failures.

  Ironic… They tried to discard you, only for you to land in slums with dire circumstances.

  The footage shifted: taller now, lean, perfectly fitted to the scarlet Nexon suit. His movements through the Grievers didn’t look like luck.

  Had their trash truly transformed into our…

  Nera’s thoughts snapped shut. She was Spine’s Viper, proud to be their chosen weapon. He didn’t have that choice.

  Another clip: cloth bandages on small arms. Blood-soaked sleeves. Wounds examined, head injuries checked like routine maintenance.

  That same vacant gaze he’d shown nearly a year ago—Vesta’s aftermath, the spark in him gone too soon.

  He was incubated. Conditioned.

  That wasn’t childhood. That was assembly.

  Nera didn’t care about their reasons.

  Aaron led Karauro to his room. Waiting for Nera, he didn’t need to ask, What’s her issue? when she arrived.

  “Mutts inside think he’s chilled a bit. Just try to stay sane,” Aaron said, his cybernetic arm whirling as he pointed. “Whren told me bits. Explains how he acted back then.”

  She hadn’t stepped into Karauro’s room in a long time.

  Karauro sat slouched in the chair by the wall, hoodie draped loose, chin tipped toward his chest. Eyes closed. Breathing slow. The kind of stillness that didn’t look peaceful so much as… enforced—like his body had stolen the wheel from whatever kept driving him.

  The room smelled like oil and cold metal. Old solder. A half-finished piece of gear sat untouched on the table, tools laid out in careful order—the way he did when he didn’t trust his hands.

  Nera shut the door behind her without letting it click.

  She watched him a beat longer than she meant to.

  Up close, even asleep, he looked older—older in the eyes, older in the set of his mouth. Scars didn’t help. His hair fell messy over his forehead, not dramatic—just the result of someone who stopped caring once the door closed.

  Her cybernetic left arm buzzed faintly, a tiny feedback hum that always showed up when her nerves did.

  Don’t. Don’t go soft because he’s quiet.

  But the cyan debrief room kept bleeding into her memory—white walls, bandages on small arms, kids learning to cut themselves open like it was maintenance.

  Assembly. Not childhood.

  Nera crossed the room. The floor barely creaked. His breathing didn’t change. He didn’t flinch; didn’t wake the way he used to—like the world was always about to bite him again.

  On the table, a cup sat cold and half full. Something bitter. Something meant to steady hands or quiet a mind.

  Her gaze dropped to his wrists. Faint marks—old pressure, old restraints, or just too many days in gloves and seals. She lowered into a crouch in front of him.

  When did this become so frustratingly difficult? To stop watching him like a problem that might explode.

  She reached out—almost let her flesh hand settle over his, something simple, something grounding.

  He shifted.

  Not awake—just enough to tug his collar.

  A chain slid into view. A ring hung there, tucked close to his chest. Familiar. Worn smooth where fingers used to worry it.

  Nera stopped mid-motion. Her throat tightened. Her hand lowered to her side.

  “Good,” she said, voice quiet, controlled. “You kept Anvi.”

  His eyes opened—not to her, but to the room.

  Like something had brushed the edge of his hearing.

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  A thin orange hinge lit around his pupil.

  He didn’t sit up. He just… tracked.

  Nera followed his gaze and felt the air change.

  “Mutt?” Her voice trailed off.

  Red lights flared from his room into the hallway.

  Aaron burst through the door, eyes flicking between them.

  “We have an intruder in Spine!” His cybernetic eyes fixed on Karauro and Nera.

  Outside, mercs moved swiftly.

  Argos: Nera, Aaron, Unit 7—we’ve been breached. That woman is in our territory, searching for Karauro. We can’t let Monarch succeed. Gear up. Spine mercs are holding her at bay.

  Aaron moved ahead. Karauro grabbed the small modified grenades he’d just finished tinkering with, slotting them into his pouch. Nera waited by the door.

  Whatever she’d planned to say would have to wait.

  Cleo and Roy swept the eastern part of the base, searching the sewage tunnel behind the hangar’s wing—someone disguised as one of their mercs.

  Roy caught a glimpse of the suspect leaping past the ladder steps with ease, crimson eyes locking onto his for a fleeting moment.

  Roy: “Val is headed toward the courtyard. She ditched the disguise.”

  Nera: Copy. We’ll surround her and lure her into Taron’s new toy. Made for her kind.

  Val vaulted onto the smaller structures like it was second nature, crimson eyes scanning the Spine—catching faint orange dust settling in one corner.

  “Ah, there you are!” her voice echoed in his mind. “It’s been a while. Don’t make this a boring reunion, Karauro!”

  Val knew he received her telepathic taunt.

  Ahead, in the courtyard, Karauro stood among Spine mercs lined behind makeshift barricades. His scarlet carbon suit glinted under floodlights, shadows thrown hard across his back. Nera stood nearby, blade flared out, while Unit 7 watched, rifle tight in his grip.

  Roy frowned, teeth grinding as he remembered Val’s kiss—how Karauro had thrashed in her steel grip.

  Something in him had never healed. Not just the violation—but the shame of being exposed in front of Unit 7, while fighting the blood worm Griever.

  Val’s foot struck dirt, halting her progress.

  “Amusing. Spine thinks I’m Monarch’s clown?” she muttered, nails sparking red as an Ichor crystal plunged into the ground. Electricity crackled up, forming a lattice of light.

  Nera clicked her tongue and tossed a rock.

  “Catch!”

  Behind Val, Aaron lunged—his fist connecting. A shockwave of red electricity erupted, making Val convulse. Her eyes locked onto him, teeth clenched, hands morphing into Ichor and dissolving before his gaze. Small sparks flickered, the air stinking of sizzling oil.

  Her ichor—momentarily disrupted.

  Nera lunged as Riven fired to trigger nearby mines. Roy flanked, rifle up, Cleo close—until an Ichor dome sprang up, deflecting their bullets.

  Argos barreled in, engine-sized arm punching Val hard enough to tumble her into shallow ground. Mines detonated—she sprang back anyway.

  A wave of Ichor crashed into Unit 7, sending them sprawling. Two scarlet hands seized Val, a knee drove into her abdomen—then an Ichor spear erupted from her back, striking Karauro’s gauntlet arm and shoving him back a step.

  Val’s long black hair fell over her face as she inhaled.

  “Didn’t expect you to hide behind them,” she said, soft and irritated. “I thought you’d confront me like last time.”

  Karauro stayed behind his helmet, but Nera caught the slight tilt of his head—thinking.

  Val pushed off the ground.

  “Not my idea,” Karauro snapped, arms spreading wide. Wire snares flared with orange heat as they struck the ground.

  “But this is.”

  Thump—

  His body speared toward her.

  Val’s claws extended, bending like a predator’s. Karauro shifted, armor pulsing as that fourth ichor screeched around him. He flicked a wire snare, piercing her elongated ichor.

  She mirrored him—another wire snare striking her second palm, pulling him closer until he landed beneath her.

  Is he really going to try that again? Val thought, smirk forming—

  —until Karauro’s hands shot out, seizing her throat and gripping her arm, the snare still embedded.

  With a swift motion, he whirled her into the air, tightened the snares, and slammed her down onto an arch mine.

  Boot thrusters engaged. Before she could rise, he stomped her head—not to kill, but to hold. Rifle aimed at her face.

  Eyes connected through the visor: his orange, hers red.

  A voice slithered between them.

  Try to shove your tongue into my vessel again—I’LL RIP IT OUT.

  The words merged with chattering distortion.

  MEAT PUPPET. BACK UP. NOW!

  Something hit the ground.

  “Rauro!” Roy yelled.

  Smoke and dirt erupted as a massive figure towered over Val—purple ichor streaming down its form.

  Val lay on the ground, while Karauro had already dodged the impact.

  “I didn’t need you yet, Wraith,” Val said, wiping blood from her lips as she elevated herself with ichor.

  “Got tired of waiting,” he replied, voice a harsh blend. Arms crossed, crimson eyes like hers.

  They flicked—briefly—to the orange glow behind Karauro’s visor.

  Nera: “Let’s move in!”

  Argos and Aaron slammed their cybernetic arms, unleashing an EDP flare that shattered Val’s dome. Bullets rained down—until Wraith stepped forward, shielding her with his body.

  Nera closed the distance, blade arcing down. Wraith summoned spears of ichor hardening from beneath the ground.

  Karauro sliced them away from Nera with thermal claws.

  He struck Wraith—kinetic burst snapping a segment of ichor. For a moment, brown human eyes appeared, before the ichor reshaped around them like sand.

  Val formed an umbrella of Ichor atop a Spine structure, dome shielding her as she watched.

  Argos! Focus on the other one! We might hit someone if we shoot recklessly!

  Nera and Karauro veered away. Bullets churned dirt around Wraith, smoke rising thick.

  Tendrils shot out, seizing Nera’s foot and yanking her back. Karauro deployed his wire snare toward the ground near her—then sliced through it with thermal claw, collapsing beside her.

  Gunfire ceased as Karauro pushed up, pulling Nera with him.

  VESSEL! the voice screeched inside Karauro.

  Purple light flickered through the smoke. On instinct, Karauro shoulder-tackled Nera away.

  CRUNCH—

  A sick wet scrape echoed.

  Blood spattered Nera’s visor.

  Karauro stood frozen, a long purple tendril glowing through his suit’s abdomen. He lifted off the ground—Wraith standing before him.

  Nera’s eyes widened.

  Blood leaked through Karauro’s half-destroyed helmet, revealing his right eye.

  LOOSEN, CHAINS, NOW! the voice droned inside his skull, piled up like putrid beetles.

  Wraith tilted his head, watching as Karauro’s eye twitched uncontrollably. Karauro’s head drooped forward.

  “Fine,” he grunted. “Just shut up.”

  The blood oozing from his stomach pulled back, shifting from red to black, hissing as it dripped onto the tendril.

  Karauro raised his head. Orange spread from his pupil into his iris—swallowing more than just the rings.