[Fixer+ | Draft] Chapter 145 - Animus

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Chapter 145 for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

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Sorry for the SUPER LONG delay on this chapter.

Hope it was worth the wait!

Title Translation: Animus - Spirit, Heart, Purpose

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/16F4V1LSpB1Zv1UCev922e2WmSxRnG9HGh0tErmgbEQE/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 145 - Animus

I couldn’t stop the groan that slipped out when the knee ground into my spine again, sharp and insistent like someone was driving a steel bar through my back. 

It must’ve been enough to draw their attention.

“Boss, she’s back,” the agent pinning me down reported.

“Ah, perfect. Now we can get both of the kids screaming in unison,” Nyxstalker said. 

Then he turned his attention to Valeria. “Unless, of course, you finally want to stop letting your kids take the beating for you, Viper?”

I glanced her way—and froze. 

For the first time since this nightmare started, Valeria didn’t look like stone. Her face flickered between anger and something that looked a lot like frustration, almost conflict.

Nyxstalker noticed too. “You’re a seriously fucked-up individual, you know that? Just lying there, watching your kids get tortured, your first-born carved up like a worthless Scav. Not saying a damn word to stop it? That’s a new low even for you. Fucking unreal. I feel sorry for the kids” 

He shook his head slowly, feigning disbelief.

“I will kill you,” Valeria said evenly, meeting his visor with ice-cold eyes. “And it won’t be quick. I promise you that.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Nyxstalker waved it off like a boring meeting report. He gestured at the man crushing me into the carpet. “Make sure she’s properly awake—we need to hear her scream. The NeuroCorpse should already be doing its job.”

Then he turned toward Gabriel’s side of the room, where things had gone strangely quiet. “Get him up too. No point cutting off arms if he’s gonna pass out on us. Hit him with a dose of Revive before we run out of time.”

Both groups barked out the same crisp reply: “Yes, sir.”

The man on my back shifted, adjusting his weight. 

Then his gauntleted hand clamped painfully onto my neck, twisting my head sideways. 

I caught a flash of a small vial before liquid splashed into my mouth.

I’d been playing half-conscious, so there wasn’t a choice—I had to swallow.

The second it hit, my heart felt like it exploded. 

My chest jolted, and my pulse thundered, slamming into overdrive like I’d just taken an adrenaline shot straight into my nervous system. 

My eyes snapped open on instinct, ruining the act. I tried to force them shut again, but the surge was too much for any willpower without my burnt-out Ego backing it.

‘Fuck…!’

Then the reality hit—my only option left was to sell the performance.

So I screamed.

“AHHHHHHHHHH!”

To them, I was still drowning in a mega-dose of NeuroCorpse, writhing under raw pain. 

And in a way, I had an advantage: I’d lived through a whole night of it once before, courtesy of Valeria’s “lessons.” 

I knew exactly how it burned, how it tore through nerves, how it broke people down.

But faking it? That was harder. Pretending the fire was there when it wasn’t—convincing them I was cracking, not calculating—took effort.

So I leaned on [Deception], let the Skill do the heavy lifting, and mimicked the agony I remembered down to the smallest twitch and ragged breath.

I forced the sound out of my lungs, raw and jagged, my throat straining against the weight still grinding into my back. 

“A-aghhhh—hhhhh!” 

My voice cracked halfway, coming out more like a strangled sob than a scream. I dragged in a ragged breath and let it shudder, pitching my voice into pleading gasps between each cry. 

“It—hurts—! Please—make it stop—!”

Each scream was shorter, weaker than it should’ve been, the knee pinning me down cutting the power from my lungs. The pressure on my spine forced every sound to come out strained and breathless, which probably made the act much more convincing. 

I coughed between my cries, rasping through the gaps in my screams. “P-please! No more!”

From the left, Gabriel’s voice suddenly tore through the apartment. 

His screams were higher, shriller—genuine panic cutting straight into me. 

“Stop! Please, Mum! Don’t—!” 

His sobs wove through the pleading, breaking into hiccups as the terror in his tone ripped me apart inside.

My chest clenched at hearing this. 

Gabriel didn’t deserve this. 

None of it. 

All he’d ever wanted was to be safe, and instead, he’d been dragged into this.

Nyxstalker chuckled, low and satisfied, as if our combined cries were music to him. He lifted a hand toward the man on my back. “Ease up a little—let her breathe. I want to hear a better performance.”

My stomach lurched. For a moment, panic stabbed through me—had he seen through it? 

Did he know?

But then he turned his visor back to Valeria, tone mocking, words dripping with cruel amusement. “Look at that, Viper. Your kids are putting on quite the show, huh? You must be so proud.”

Just a figure of speech. He hadn’t noticed.

I dragged another scream out of my chest, louder now with the extra air, letting my voice splinter and crack just the way it needed to. 

My throat burned from forcing it, but it sold the act.

Thinking at the same time was a nightmare. 

Without my Ego buffering it, all of my focus went into faking the NeuroCorpse agony. 

That was the one thing I missed most about the active function right then—how it could keep one part of me running a job while the rest of me thought clearly. 

With it burnt out from shielding me during [Serenity], I had nothing to help me think straight. 

No in-depth planning, no careful risk/reward charts.

Just scraps of ideas barely glued together in my head.

Gabriel’s screams mixed with mine, both of us echoing through the apartment in awful rhythm. 

Nyxstalker reveled in it, tossing constant taunts Valeria’s way. 

And to my utter disbelief, she was reacting. 

The cold mask I’d thought unshakable was fracturing—the set of her jaw tightening with every second, her eyes burning hotter, sharper, as if the ice was finally cracking.

I was right at my own breaking point hearing Gabriel’s continued pleas and sobs, about to ditch the act and make a desperate move, when it came.

BANG.

A gunshot ripped through the hall outside, echoing sharp against the walls. Every head snapped toward the open breaches.

“What…?” Nyxstalker muttered, visor shifting. He jabbed a finger toward the two additional agents he had previously stationed near Gabriel’s and my torturers. “You two. Go check what the fuck that was.”

They hadn’t even taken a step before the hall lit up again. 

A flurry of bangs, bursts of rapid, heavy gunfire—closing in.

“Fuck!” Nyxstalker snapped, whirling on the netrunner still half-collapsed by the kitchen counter. 

“I thought we had time left!” His roar filled the apartment.

“I—We do!” the netrunner stammered, fear dripping into every word. “The passive jam’s still active! I swear! It’s still up!”

He shoved his datapad out like a shield in the armoured man’s direction, screen flickering with data.

“Fucking EtherLabs…” Nyxstalker spat, visor snapping back to Valeria. “What did you do?!”

Valeria didn’t answer. Not a word. Not even a twitch. 

And for once, it wasn’t some calculated silence—it looked like she genuinely didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t done a thing, and that only made Nyxstalker’s temper boil over.

“Enough!” he roared, his voice shaking the walls. He jabbed a finger at the two agents still pinning me and Gabriel. “Kill them both. If I can’t get the info out of you, Viper, then I’ll settle for paying you back—piece by piece—for all the pain you’ve caused.”

My eyes went wide. 

Time had officially run out.

Mid-fake-scream, I cut myself off and sucked in as much air as I could, my hand tightening around the steak-knife I’d kept hidden in my grip ever since the chaos had started. 

The agent on top of me had shifted earlier due to Nyxstalker’s request to hear me scream, his knee no longer grinding into my spine—he was mostly holding me by the hand on my neck, pressing me down.

I turned my gaze toward the netrunner slumped against the kitchen counter, still suffering from the feedback of PremMed’s earlier interference. 

What I was about to do was dangerous. 

Stupid. 

And it was going to hurt.

‘But better than dead…’

So I did it anyway.

I flicked open my cerebral interface in an instant, opened the quick-hack section and cranked up the only quick-hack I had loaded. I ignored the warning signs warning of a Burnout, simply pushing the HEAT to maximum and immediately fired it.

[Venombite]

The quick-hack lanced out of me, riding my neural link like a bullet, and the Netrunner’s fried defenses didn’t stand a chance. 

My vision went white-hot as my neck seared in agony, like a miniature nuclear detonation had gone off under my skin. The agent holding me flinched instantly, jerking back as the burn chewed straight through his gloves, the smell of my cooked flesh hitting the air.

My head spun, eyes blurry from the pain, but I forced my body into motion. 

[Narrow Twist] took over, my bones bending like liquid, my frame contorting in ways that should’ve been impossible, sliding free from the rest of his hold like I’d turned into a human knot unravelling. 

The world snapped back into focus as I twisted and turned, momentum carrying me upright in one vicious snap until I was standing next to him.

[Sharpen]

The knife in my hand gleamed for a split second before I drove it into the narrow gap just beneath his helmet, straight through the soft flesh of his neck. The impact jarred up my arm, and hot blood sprayed across my hand as the blade punched deep.

[Murder] surged the instant silver-tinged steel met flesh, pulling my body along like it was second nature. 

I didn’t think—I tore. 

The wound ripped wider as I yanked, a torrential jet of blood erupting from inside his armor before the agent began to collapse backward, lifeless.

Then the shift hit me.

[Lethal Flow] roared to life.

Time stretched thin around me, every detail snapping into sharp clarity. 

The agents halfway to the kitchen froze mid-step, their rifles hanging half-raised. 

To my left, the bastard pinning Gabriel was angling his weapon for the kill, while Nyxstalker stood further back, one hand cutting through the air as he barked for them to turn around and put me down.

There wasn’t even a choice to make.

I exploded forward, sprinting for Gabriel’s side. 

The agent above him hadn’t registered me yet, not fully—not enough. I hit the ground just a step out of his reach as the frozen moment unraveled, time rushing back in.

I didn’t hesitate. 

Every ounce of strength and desperation I had left went into the charge, knife leveled at his throat.

The blade struck home, but not clean. 

The agent had managed to jerk and react at the last possible second, his gauntleted hand snapping up and catching the knife just shy of his throat. 

For a heartbeat, it was a stalemate—his strength overpowering mine, despite the speed at which I had approached, the edge of the blade trembling less than an inch from where it needed to be.

But I didn’t stop. 

I shifted my weight forward, slamming my knee into the back of the knife, driving steel through flesh and bone alike. The blade punched through his palm with a sickening crunch before burying itself into the soft meat of his throat. 

His breath hitched—then choked—strength bleeding out of him as fast as the arterial spray that followed.

I wrenched the knife free with my left hand, tearing it loose in a brutal rip that sent another hot wave of blood splattering across both of us.

And then—again—the world slowed to a crawl.

[Lethal Flow] pulled everything back into silence, into stillness, leaving me hovering in the gap between heartbeats, knife dripping red at my side.

I was sucking in air like I’d run a marathon, every breath burning raw in my throat. 

The pain in my neck had climbed to a level that should’ve dropped me cold minutes ago—if not for whatever cocktail the corpos had poured down my throat to keep me awake and screaming.

It left me shaking and my heart hammering like it was going to explode any second now, but still here, still conscious, and somehow still moving.

The two agents in the middle of the room had their rifles up now, barrels snapping toward me and Gabriel. Nyxstalker mirrored them, his own weapon coming up in smooth, practiced motion. 

Three guns, all trained on us.

There was no way out. Not this time.

Then my eyes locked with Valeria’s.

She was still pinned, her body straining under the agents holding her down, but her eyes—those eyes—weren’t their usual cold-steel anymore. 

Not even the previous frustration, anger or conflict was visible anymore. 

They carried something I hadn’t seen before. A look that wasn’t her usual mask of command, yet infinitely sharper than her mask had ever been.

For a second, I swore I could hear her. Not out loud, but clear as day.

“Free me.”

I didn’t question it. Didn’t hesitate.

[Blademaster’s Throw]

The knife left my hand in a blur, cutting through the air with the kind of speed and precision only the System could bless, aimed dead at the neck seam of one of the agents pinning her down.

At the same time, I used [Lethal Flow]’s free movement to grab the limp, falling body of the agent I’d just dropped and yanked him in front of me, dragging his dead weight into place between Gabriel, myself, and the muzzles aiming our way.

Then time snapped back.

And chaos came with it.

Gunfire instantly erupted, deafening in the cramped apartment. 

The two agents in the center of the room opened up on me and Gabriel, their rifles barking in brutal unison. I desperately ducked behind the body I’d hauled into place, rounds slamming into the corpse with wet, sickening thuds, the armor shredding apart as it soaked bullet after bullet meant for us.

From the kitchen, a sudden scream of alarm cut through the staccato rhythm of gunfire—then two bone-jarring crashes, followed by the harsh metallic snap of something breaking.

“Shoot her!” Nyxstalker’s roar thundered over everything. “Shoot Viper!”

The shift of attention pulled heat off me, buying me a second to peek out from behind the mangled corpse—and what I saw didn’t look real.

Valeria was standing, towering above the broken bodies of the agents who’d held her down. 

Her once-immaculate dress was little more than shredded cloth, hanging in tatters across her bloodied and cut up frame. 

And then—without hesitation—she drove her own sharp fingers into her right shoulder.

I froze, eyes wide, as she pulled downward in one clean, horrifying motion—tearing her arm’s skin from shoulder to fingertips like it was just a sleeve she no longer needed. 

She ripped the whole thing free in one fell, sickening swoop and tossed the bloodied husk into the middle of the room.

Her now-bare right hand rose slowly, calmly, to her mouth.

Nyxstalker’s reaction was instant—he bolted for cover, diving behind the shattered counter.

Valeria bit down on her hand, hard.

The torn flesh she’d thrown stopped mid-air, suspended unnaturally, before twisting and ballooning outward into something vast and radiant. 

The room filled with blinding, shimmering, green light as it reshaped itself—an immense viper, effulgent and terrible, born of her torn flesh.

The serpent struck before anyone could even process its existence. 

Its jaws clamped down on the two central agents mid-burst, their bullets still firing uselessly as the viper’s maw ripped through armor and bone alike. Their upper halves tore away from their legs in a spray of gore, bodies collapsing in mangled heaps.

But the serpent didn’t pause. 

It twisted, coiling in one impossible flick, and darted straight for Nyxstalker’s cover behind the counter.

Nyxstalker barely had time to react, but somehow he did. 

His right arm shot up, jamming itself into the onrushing serpent’s jaws just as they snapped shut. The room rang with a shrill, metallic screech as the fangs clamped down, shredding the armor plating like it was foil. Sparks spat into the air as the viper’s acid-dripping maw chewed deeper, its teeth grinding into the cybernetics beneath.

It bought him a second. Just enough.

He slammed his left arm against the counter beside him, the plates detonating outward in a violent hiss of shrapnel and steam. 

When the smoke cleared, his bare flesh was revealed—inked from shoulder to wrist in a reality-true tattoo that shifted and shimmered like it was alive. 

A Nyxstalker: Sleek, panther-like, its barbed tail curling around his forearm, every detail pulsing with dark luminescence.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be this stupid, Viper,” he mocked, voice low and strained, but sharp as a knife’s edge. “Your family really is your weak point, huh?”

The serpent’s acid-laced bite had already eaten away the last of his armor, exposing the cybernetics underneath—jet black, reinforced, but still grinding under the pressure. 

His now naked, left arm shot forward, driving into the viper’s body.

The connection rippled through him like fire. 

His arm twisted at wrong, impossible angles, bones crunching and snapping like dry branches, blood spraying out in sheets until half the limb was nothing but mangled meat and splintered, crushed bone.

Then—suddenly—the apartment vanished into pitch-black. A suffocating void swallowed everything, smothering the light for the briefest, terrifying instant.

And then came the crash.

The darkness tore away in a burst as something massive dropped into existence, shaking the entire apartment as though the floor itself had cracked. 

Standing there—towering at least three meters tall—was a Nyxstalker. 

A nightmarish, effulgent shadow-beast made flesh, its sleek, barbed form pinning the serpent’s radiant body under one monstrous paw.

Valeria screamed. It wasn’t just a cry—it was a shriek that ripped through the air like glass splintering, so raw and piercing that it made my skin crawl and my spine lock.

The serpent thrashed wildly, coiling and snapping, its jaws lunging for the beast’s neck. 

The gunfire from outside kept increasing in volume at a rapid pace.

But, then, the Nyxstalker only shifted its weight, muscles rippling, and with a violent whip of its massive paw it threw the serpent aside like nothing.

The glowing viper careened across the room, slamming into Valeria and driving both her and the creature into the eastern wall with earth-shaking force. The impact cracked the rockcrete and sent debris flying—then, in an instant, the viper dissolved into nothing but a rolling mist of iridescent green particles.

Valeria was gasping for air, each breath rattling like it hurt her lungs to even try. 

Blood pooled fast beneath her, running from deep cuts and ugly breaks along her body. 

Her whole right side hung limp, useless, as if it didn’t even belong to her anymore. 

She tried to push herself up anyway, sheer stubbornness forcing her forward—only to collapse face-first into the floor again with a sickening thud. 

She groaned, dragging herself an inch closer towards Gabriel and I, but her body just wouldn’t respond.

“Sacrificing your Spirit Companion for your kids…?” Nyxstalker’s voice carried across the ruined apartment, thick with mockery. He stepped out from behind the counter, calm as ever despite the carnage, boots crunching over debris as he strolled toward me and Gabriel. 

“Maybe you’re not quite as useless of a mother as I thought.” 

He paused, tilting his head as if the compliment amused him. 

Then his tone dropped into something colder, harsher. “That said… you’re out of cards. Tell me what I want to know. You fought well—I’ll give you that. But your kids?” 

He pointed one bloodied hand toward us, his shadow falling over myself and Gabriel’s still-sobbing form. 

“They die if you don’t speak the fuck up. No more tricks. No more games. No more bullshit, Viper.”

The room held its breath. 

For a heartbeat, no one moved—just Valeria dragging air into her ruined lungs, her body trembling as she forced herself upright on her one good arm. 

Finally, she croaked, voice raw but steady, “Okay... But swear—on the Dragon—that my children walk away from this…”

Nyxstalker didn’t hesitate. 

He sounded downright amused. “Of course. I didn’t want to hurt them in the first place. You’re the one who made this ugly by being so fucking stubborn.” He raised his hand like it was a holy oath. “I swear on the Dragon—soon as I have what I came for, I’m gone.”

Valeria lifted her chin, blood streaking from her lips, her breath rattling. She coughed wetly into her hand, then looked up at him with eyes that still burned, ready to speak—

BANG.

The gunshot shattered the moment.

The blast was so loud it felt like it cracked the walls. 

My head whipped toward the kitchen breach, and there he was—Mr. Stirling, breathing hard and covered in blood—but clearly not his own, bracing a massive rifle against his shoulder. 

The muzzle still smoked.

My eyes darted back to Valeria’s side of the room, hope flaring for half a heartbeat—then died.

The Nyxstalker beast had thrown itself between its master and the shot. 

The slug had slammed into its side, tearing into its monstrous flesh, and the creature howled, the sound so sharp it made my teeth ache. The man roared in answer, staggering as though the pain had struck him too, his visor snapping toward the breach.

“I will be right back,” he snarled, voice like a growl of thunder. His gaze cut down to Valeria. “Remember what you were about to tell me.”

The beast lunged, barreling through the breach and smashing into Stirling as he fired again, both of them vanishing into the hall.

The man was right behind them, sprinting out with unnatural speed.

What followed was chaos made sound—gunfire cracking in rapid bursts, heavy crashes shaking the floor, the grind of claws against rockcrete, and then explosions that made the whole apartment shudder around us.

I didn’t waste the brief moment of respite. 

My whole body still burned, but I pushed myself upright, looking around for anything I could do—anyone I could help.

That’s when I saw Gabriel.

He was lying on the floor just behind me in a massive pool of blood—face pale, lips trembling, eyes glassy. His two amputated arms lay nearby.

My chest seized at the sight. 

“Hold on, Gabe!” I begged, my voice cracking as I tried to keep him awake. “Stay with me! Don’t you dare check out on me now!”

[First Aid] hit me like a hammer, instincts screaming the obvious. 

‘Stop the bleeding.’

Both of his arms were gone above the elbows, hacked clean, blood pouring out in rivers he couldn’t afford to lose. He had already lost far, far too much blood, but any additional spout was bringing him a large step closer to the inevitable.

I didn’t think—I just ripped at my dress, tearing strips and cramming them against the stumps as hard as I could. 

The cloth darkened instantly, blood soaking through in a heartbeat. 

Futile. Utterly useless. 

A few scraps of fabric weren’t going to hold back the tide of a full-blown amputation.

My eyes snapped around the room, frantic. 

Maybe one of the agents had a medkit, a coagulant injector, something. 

But they were all too far—bodies across the room, gear scattered or ruined. 

The only one close was the corpse I’d been using as a shield, and he was more holes than man now, his gear shredded into scrap by the storm of bullets.

“Please, please, please…” I muttered, half to Gabriel, half to myself, as if begging would make my brain cough up some miracle solution. 

‘There has to be something. Anything… PLEASE!’

That’s when it hit me.

I yanked open my System Interface, hands shaking, and tore through the menus until I hit my Inventory. No time to think—just grab anything that even might help.

[== Uncommon Data-Shard #143 ==]
[1x Handheld Plasma Torch] (CLAIMED)
[1x Handcuffs (Plasteel)] (CLAIMED)
[{c}48 Credits] (CLAIMED)

The handcuffs clattered uselessly onto the carpet, and the System pinged me with a neat little notice about the credits hitting my account—like that meant a damn thing right now. 

I ignored both without hesitation.

My hand shot straight for the plasma torch, the tool blinking into existence in mid-air before the weight of it settled into my grip. 

My heart pounded like a war drum.

I lined it up with Gabriel’s right stump, the blood still gushing out in terrifying waves.

“I’m sorry, Gabe,” I whispered, voice breaking even as I forced the words out. “This is gonna hurt—a lot.”

Then I squeezed the trigger.

The torch hissed to life, its pale-blue flame snapping and spitting against the air as I brought it down toward Gabriel’s mangled stump. The moment it got close, though, I realized the problem—his flesh wasn’t conductive. 

The plasma arced uselessly, licking at the air without biting down where it needed to.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I muttered, my brain racing, my eyes darting over the bloodied battlefield around me.

‘Blood!’ 

Blood was conductive.

I jammed my free hand against the wound, scooping up what I could, then smeared it along the edge of the stump, letting it pool and soak the entire limb in crimson. 

The torch finally bit, the plasma catching on the wet trail like it had been waiting for it, searing hot against the raw tissue. 

The smell hit me first—burnt iron and charred meat—and then the screaming.

Gabriel thrashed, his whole body convulsing under me. 

I tried to hold him still with one arm while guiding the torch with the other, but he was stronger than he should’ve been—his body refusing to shut down thanks to whatever cocktail they’d injected him with. 

His glassy eyes stared through me, wide and empty, his movements pure instinct as he bucked against the pain.

“Gabe, please! Stay still! You’ll die if you don’t!” My voice broke into sobs, tears running down my face so fast I couldn’t even see clearly. 

But it didn’t matter—he wasn’t hearing me anymore. 

He was just an animal fighting fire.

The torch sputtered as I fought to keep it steady, my own strength failing, when suddenly a cool draft swept past my face—midnight air, cold and sharp.

“I’ll hold him. Do it.”

Valeria’s voice.

My head snapped up in shock. 

She was right there, beside me, her body dragging a wide smear of blood across the carpet where she’d crawled towards us this entire time. 

She pressed herself down on Gabriel, pinning his torso with the last of her strength, blood dripping from her mouth but eyes hard with focus.

I didn’t waste another second.

With her weight holding him steady, I finished the job, moving the torch slowly around the circumference of the wound. Flesh sizzled and blackened, the hiss of plasma chewing through him loud enough to make me flinch every time it crackled. 

Gabriel’s screams filled the room, high and desperate, before finally breaking into ragged groans as his throat gave out, leaving only hoarse whimpers.

Halfway through, the System burst into my vision, windows slamming open one after another with sharp error chimes that nearly deafened me.

“Not now!” I snarled through gritted teeth, blinking them away and forcing myself back onto the wound.

Seconds dragged into eternity, but finally—finally—the plasma torch guttered, the wounds sealed into blackened, jagged messes on both sides.

I let out a broken sigh of relief, my whole body trembling. 

Gabriel sagged beneath Valeria, his screams gone, his voice reduced to faint, pitiful groans. 

His breathing was shallow, ragged, but it was there. He was still alive.

With our rugged breathing and whimpers the only noise coming from us, I suddenly realised that the chaos in the hallway had stopped.

My heart lurched into my throat at the realisation.

My head immediately snapped towards the breaches, fearfully looking out for the armoured man or the effulgent, black beast to come back and torment us further.

A moment passed.

Then another.

When nothing seemed to be coming through the breaches, I carefully opened up my System Notifications, the strange error chimes from earlier coming to mind—chimes that I hadn’t heard before.

My blood froze in my veins at the sight…

[System]: ERROR. TRACKED TASK NO LONGER AVAILABLE.
[System]: WARNING. TASK FAILED: Mr. Stirling’s Request

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