Time: 6:19 AM — Core Cradle Chamber
The silence before the kill was so complete, Aiko could hear the subtle crackle of static in the air—the sound of everything failing at once.
Then the world exploded.
Ryoji moved first, his instincts leading faster than thought. The dark lit up with bursts of gunfire—bright, angry flashes blooming like fireflies in hell. Shadows ducked, flared, fell. The French black-ops squad—Groupe Fantôme—hit hard and fast, coordinated with deadly efficiency.
Ryoji's blade caught the first man mid-swing, slicing through poly-weave armor like paper. Blood misted the air. He pivoted, slid low beneath a burst of rounds, and brought the blade up into another attacker's ribs. Sparks flew where metal met the man's sidearm. The body dropped, twitching.
Kane roared as he surged forward—his plasma axes a blur of motion and raw heat. He carved clean through the next two soldiers, severing limbs with terrifying precision. One tried to scream but collapsed before the sound could leave his throat. Kane didn't stop. He was fire and bone, built for this.
Behind them, Miura and Zhenya fell into tight formation. Zhenya's rifle cracked twice, three times—each shot a perfect answer to chaos. Heads snapped back. Knees gave way. Miura didn't flinch when a Fantôme soldier charged her blindside. She turned, ducked, and drove a combat knife through the man's chest with a hiss of breath.
Yuki's fingers flew across her tactical deck. "Encrypted signals—six more closing in! They've got reinforcements above!"
"We hold this chamber!" Miura barked. "Aiko—status?!"
But Aiko wasn't answering.
She stood frozen, eyes wide, staring at the crystalline sarcophagus.
The girl inside… was glowing.
Not metaphorically. Not poetically.
Literally—light seeped from the cracks in the crystal casing, pulsing in rhythm with the girl's slow, steady breath. Her hair floated around her like it was suspended in water. And in that light, Aiko saw more than a reflection.
She saw resonance.
It wasn't just similar to her. It was her—only different. Deeper. Rooted in something older.
"She's not asleep," Aiko whispered. "She's listening."
Rafiq shouted from the flank. "They're going for the cradle! They want to shut it down!"
A thunderous hum swelled in the air—a warning, a scream, a signal.
Then came the crack.
The sarcophagus split straight down the center. Light bled out like a flood—white-blue, searing, and pure.
And then—detonation.
The EMP wave blasted through the chamber. Lights died instantly. HUDs blinked out. Zhenya swore and dropped to her knees. Yuki screamed as her gear shorted. Even Miura's visor flickered uselessly.
But Aiko remained upright.
She watched the crystal fall away, shard by shard, and the girl step out.
Barefoot. Silent. Eyes glowing white, hair like liquid silver spilling down her back.
She blinked once, and the chamber breathed.
"I know you," she said quietly, looking straight at Aiko.
Aiko's voice trembled. "What… what are you?"
The girl smiled. "I am the first."
The walls trembled.
The floor cracked.
Time buckled.
6:21 AM — Core Cradle Chamber, Emergency Descent Route
The soldiers didn't even have time to scream.
Three Fantôme operatives launched forward—and were instantly lifted off their feet by a pressure wave that seemed to come from nowhere. Their bones shattered before they hit the ceiling. Blood rained down.
"She's warping the field!" Yuki gasped, clutching her ears. "Gravity's collapsing! Reality distortion metrics are—off the chart!"
The girl's gaze flicked toward another enemy—and he stopped mid-sprint, suspended in the air. His skin began to crystallize, transparent shards spreading from his eyes and mouth. Within seconds, he was a frozen sculpture—screaming silently, trapped in eternal stasis.
Zhenya fired two more rounds—but the bullets bent mid-air, veering harmlessly away.
"She's not using tech!" Maru shouted. "She's using space itself!"
Miura tried to step forward, rifle raised. "Contain her before she destabilizes—"
"Stop!" Aiko's voice cut through the chaos.
Everyone froze.
Even the girl.
Aiko stepped forward slowly, ignoring the sparks from the dying systems and the whispers clawing at her mind. The girl watched her, tilting her head slightly.
"We're the same," Aiko said. "Aren't we?"
"No," the girl replied, still smiling. "You're a bloom."
She reached up and gently touched Aiko's chest.
"I am the seed."
The wall behind them opened. Not collapsed—opened. Seamlessly. Silently. Like a door remembering how to be a door.
And from it came shapes.
Human silhouettes. Dozens of them. Stepping through the walls, through the steel, through the air itself.
Ancient Division Zero soldiers—gear decades out of date, but moving with eerie synchronization. Their eyes glowed faintly beneath cracked helmets. Their mouths didn't move, but Aiko heard them.
Whispers.
"They never left," the silver-haired girl said. "They were bound to the Core. Bound to me."
Ryoji moved protectively in front of Aiko. "We're leaving."
But Aiko didn't move. Her eyes were locked with the girl's. "What happens if we do?"
The girl didn't answer.
Instead, the soldiers raised their weapons.
All of them.
Not at Aiko.
At Groupe Fantôme.
"Don't interfere with the bloom," the girl said. "Or the garden will burn."
To be continued... Chapter 43....