Chương 94: 93: Next Phase

Melody stirred. The living bandages writhed around Butter's body, forcing the monomolecular wires from her flesh. Muscle knitted together. Bone rejoined. Skin sealed itself closed. Butter's eyes snapped open. The Operative squeezed the trigger on Clock. BOOM. She hadn't hesitated. The trigger had already been moving.

"No last-minute saves," she muttered. Something hot splashed across her hand. She frowned, looking back at him. The blaster had burst apart. Its barrel had split open, spilling molten components like entrails. She looked up. Butter's palm covered the muzzle. The blast had never escaped. She had sealed the barrel shut, trapping the discharge inside the weapon. It detonated backward, shredding the Operative's forearm into torn flesh and splintered bone. Their eyes met. Butter's pink irises burned with quiet fury.

A small, bloodstained smile crossed her lips.

"Are you sure?" she asked softly. The Operative frowned. How had the discharge not blown through Butter's body? Across the corridor, Katherine watched with her breath caught in her throat. The Restructurers still crawled through her body, but she barely noticed them. Butter was standing. Alive. The Operative's head snapped toward the corpse still lying on the floor.

"Shit." The mangled body burst apart into a storm of white and cream moths. Thousands of delicate wings spiralled upward, filling the corridor in a silent blizzard. Katherine blinked. The moths streamed around and through her, their wings brushing her skin like whispers. She reached out instinctively. Nothing. The swarm swept through the corridor, devouring the microscopic Restructurers as they passed. Katherine stumbled forward, coughing blood.

"Sugarbear…" Butter looked at her, her smile softening.

"Did you miss me, Honeycakes?" Fresh Steppers flooded the corridor. Grey-and-crimson armour poured from every passage, carrying unfamiliar weapons - humming Apis rifles, crackling cylinders, vibrating spears and shimmering shield generators. The wounded Operative was already retreating, her ruined arm hanging at her side. Her eyes never left Butter. She had understood. Butter had her magic back. She barked rapid orders in Russian, and the newcomers shifted formation instantly, covering her withdrawal.

They were ready. Katherine's cobalt vision mapped every threat before it fully emerged. Butter didn't wait. Katherine's trick, she thought. Crescendo. Multiply the magic. She pushed. It felt wrong. Crescendo had always multiplied force, never magic itself. The effort was like trying to see with her elbows. She found a trickle. Turned it into a flood. Her pink eyes blazed. The front rank lunged without hesitation, armour screaming as they burst forward. Butter stepped. They faltered. She was gone.

No warning flashed across their visors. No predictive system registered an acceleration. Their sensors simply... lost her. Impossible. She was already behind them. Her back was already to them, standing several metres away as though she'd been there the entire time. The Steppers spun in confusion. THOOM. THOOM. THOOM. THOOM. THOOM. Their souls were struck from the front all at once, despite Butter no longer standing there.

The delayed impacts caught up with her impossible movement, lifting armoured bodies clean off their feet as though cannons had erupted inside their chests. They collapsed like puppets with cut strings. Some of the remaining Steppers stared in confusion during that infinitesimal instant, watching twelve cores fracture at once. That should have been impossible. An Apis core automatically dispersed any force capable of destroying a continent or less as though it had never existed.

Cracking one without the energy simply dissolving demanded physical power beyond that threshold, yet raw strength alone still wasn't enough. An Apis core was compressed dream-stuff. Breaking it required a conceptual attack so exquisitely refined it bordered on the inconceivable. Had Butter merely ejected their souls, the intact cores would have dragged those souls straight back into their bodies, rendering the Bowl Technique meaningless.

Instead, she had struck body, soul and concept simultaneously across all opponents, collapsing every avenue of resistance in the same instant. She had combined Moth Step with the Bowl Technique, rendering their predictive software irrelevant. Something that should have been impossible. The Somnambulist didn't care. A dozen Steppers crumpled in a heartbeat. Weapons clattered across the stone as their Apis cores guttered out. Across the corridor, Clock still jerked through the Shaker's deadly rhythm.

A single white moth landed on his back. It rested against the device. The existential lock shifted. The moth accepted the quantum signature. The Shaker pulsed twice… … and teleported the moth into nothingness. The device clattered harmlessly onto the floor. Clock stood. His spine cracked back into alignment as he rolled his shoulders and exhaled. He was bruised. He looked at Butter.

"I'm grateful."... Katherine was already there, crushing Butter in a hug. Her whole body trembled with relief, exhaustion, and the impossible joy of having her back.

"Holy mother of Christ. How did you do that?" she asked into Butter's shoulder.

"Both techniques are single-target. Hitting a dozen people at once should be impossible." Butter hugged her back, smiling.

"I used your advice. The Gloom loopholes. I fed Arpeggio into the attack and flooded it with Gloom. That let me split the strike across multiple targets at the same instant." She pulled back, pink eyes bright.

"It was always possible. It just needed enough Gloom... and enough focus." Clock stepped closer, studying her with open curiosity. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Arpeggio?" he asked.

"I don't remember you having that. What does it actually do?"

"I unlocked it fighting the wolf," Butter replied.

"Sforzando too. The shield." Clock blinked.

"So two conceptual abilities manifested during a single battle..." He frowned thoughtfully.

"The adaptive pressure must've been extraordinary." He extended a fist. Butter bumped it with a grin.

"The wolf was that dangerous?" Butter's smile softened.

"…Mhm." For a moment, her eyes drifted toward the distant corridor where Korhess had vanished. Crashes echoed through the fortress, mixed with what sounded like Thornburgh's wolf form and the thunder of hooves. She looked back at Katherine. Without a word, she reached into the satchel at Katherine's hip and pulled out the scrapyard mouthguard. Before Katherine could object, Butter slipped it into her mouth.

"It's been in someone else's-""I know," Butter said gently.

"You need it." The scrapyard mouthguard shifted. Tiny metallic clicks echoed as the mouthguard reshaped itself. Its polished silver and pale opalescent alloy shimmered with impossible colours as it flowed over Katherine's teeth, moulding perfectly to every contour until it rested like a fitted set of grills, snug enough to stay in place while leaving her speech completely unhindered. Butter smiled.

"There. Now you look like Clock." Katherine blinked. Clock raised an eyebrow.

"…Excuse me?" Butter pointed at his silver-and-sapphire grills with a grin.

"Matching dental accessories." The moment the mouthguard settled into place, the pressure eased. The Nonagon's relentless presence receded. The agony behind Katherine's eyes faded. Her thoughts sharpened. She could breathe again. The artifact still pulsed within her, but it no longer threatened to overwhelm her. The mouthguard dampened its conceptual resonance exactly as Butter had promised. Katherine ran her tongue across the fitted metal, surprised by how natural it felt.

"It actually fits."

"Told you." Katherine's eyes shimmered.

"Thank you." Butter smiled.

"Anytime, Honeycakes." Behind them, Clock went still. A faint violet glow flickered across his skin. Then it brightened. The Revoker's suppression was finally fading. Gloom flowed through him once more, curling around his body in familiar streams of purple light. He flexed his fingers, watching the energy gather between them with quiet fascination. His gaze shifted toward the corridor ahead.

"They're dead now," he muttered.... Katherine blinked.

"Dead?" Butter shook her head.

"Not permanently. The Bowl Technique only knocks the soul out of the body. They'll wake up after about thirty minutes…" She glanced at the unconscious Steppers scattered across the corridor.

"…assuming their bodies aren't destroyed." Katherine's fingers tightened around Harmony.

"Holy mother of Christ… I'll go finish the job." She took one step. Butter caught her wrist.

"Don't."

"They'll wake up!"

"Mhm."

"They kidnapped people!"

"They did."

"I know."

"It'll make it quick. I'll just destroy their skulls with harmony!"

"Oh my…" Butter stepped in front of her.

"I still won't let you." Clock folded his arms.

"She's right about one thing." Butter looked over.

"Leaving them alive is strategically unsound. They'll regroup, warn the remainder of the facility and reinforce critical positions. We're already operating at a numerical disadvantage." Butter's expression hardened.

"You were an assassin for the Antarctic Faction." Clock fell silent.

"And Yume is dead because of it." His jaw tightened.

"You were given a second chance." Her voice softened.

"Why not them?" Clock looked away before answering.

"…I was different." Butter frowned.

"Nah."

"I left because I had a sister." His voice remained quiet.

"A sister I loved more than I loved the Syndicate." He looked at the unconscious Steppers.

"They love this place. The Syndicate is their family. Their home. Every atrocity they committed was done beside friends, mentors and people they admired. They cannot feel the weight of their evil because they shared that burden." His gaze hardened.

"They don't need conversion. They need to be killed." Katherine frowned.

"I met two trainee Steppers." Both of them looked at her.

"They didn't even know what Apis was." She rested Harmony across her shoulder.

"If we're trying to stop the kidnappings and all the suffering, the scientists and engineers are the real masterminds."

"They built this place. They're the reason any of this is possible."

"Oh my…" Butter rubbed her forehead.

"Can we survive first? We'll figure something out afterwards." After a long moment, Katherine and Clock reluctantly nodded. Butter smiled.

"There we go." Katherine immediately hopped onto Butter's back. Butter laughed.

"... Honeycakes?"

"My legs hurt. You have a prosthetic."

"So?"

"So carry me." Butter crouched with a sigh, letting Katherine wrap her arms around her neck.

"You're unbelievable."

"I'm not disagreeing." Katherine rested her chin on Butter's shoulder.

"Wowie… your muscles look amazing under Melody's bandages." Butter's ears turned pink.

"You're flirting again."

"I'm making observations." Clock snorted as he stretched, violet Gloom flowing across his body while his joints cracked back into place. Katherine tilted her head.

"Holy mother of Christ… your blood's weird." She squinted.

"It's dark. It looks like it has glitter in it."

"It isn't glitter." Butter leaned sideways to peek.

"It kinda does." Clock sighed.

"…It does not." He glanced down at the crimson droplets drying along his forearm.

"It isn't ordinary blood. Its refractive index increases as Gloom saturation rises, causing suspended particulate structures to scatter light. That creates the illusion of metallic inclusions." Katherine stared at him.

"You're an actual handsome nerd." Clock blinked.

"I thought that was a myth," she continued.

"All you need now are glasses." Butter stared.

"Mhm." Katherine was still wearing the round, gold-rimmed spectacles. Butter blinked twice.

"…How are those still intact?" Katherine adjusted them proudly.

"I have absolutely no idea." — Butter was already moving, pink eyes fixed on the corridor where Korhess had disappeared. Crashes and howls still echoed through the fortress - Thornburgh's wolf, thunderous hooves, the sharp crack of Korhess' spear striking something unyielding.

"Go," Katherine said, turning toward the Commander's chamber.

"We've got this." Butter hesitated, glancing between Katherine and the distant battle.

"She's been alone this whole time. If Thornburgh-""She's still standing," Katherine cut in.

"I can feel her." Butter nodded once, then darted into the darkness, her footsteps fading toward the fight. Katherine turned to Clock.

"Commander's chamber. Two corridors ahead, then left. The main route's guarded, but there's a maintenance shaft-""I know." Violet Gloom curled around him as he drifted forward.

"I can feel the Hexagon. It's like standing beside a star." Katherine followed, Harmony resting across her shoulder. The Nonagon pulsed quietly against her hip, subdued by the fitted mouthguard. They rounded the corner. Two figures waited. Ankou. Daniel. Behind them, fresh Steppers in grey-and-crimson armour filled the corridor, weapons raised, formation immaculate. Ankou stood at the front, immaculate as ever.

A polished top hat crowned his head, a cobalt waistcoat gleamed beneath his black coat, and delicate white tattoos climbed across his hands and neck. A thin cigar trailed smoke as he regarded them with quiet amusement.

"Good evening," he said in the measured cadence of an old British gentleman.

"I do hope we haven't kept you waiting. I confess I find this entire affair rather tiresome." He exhaled a perfect smoke ring.

"Your efforts are predictably futile. Perhaps this facility shall fall. So shall you. The outcome has already been decided." Beside him stood Daniel - lean, brown-skinned, with close-cropped black hair and tired amber eyes. He slipped on his helmet, the lenses whirring to life as scans flickered across the trio. A silver pellet already rested in his slingshot.

"Ja," he drawled, his South African accent relaxed.

"The oke's right. False-Twin chambers? Gone. Apis cores? Toast. You've been busy." He flashed a grin.

"Shame it won't matter." Clock's voice entered Katherine's mind at once. Silver pellets. They soften whatever they strike. Armour, conceptual defences, magic - none of it matters. They'll hit you like bullets hitting a human. They also track. Don't let one touch you. Katherine tightened her grip on Harmony. She stepped forward, her four irises turning slowly.

"Go suck a fat one. Both of you. And your little Stepper parade." She pointed at a random Stepper off to the side.

"Especially that silly one." The Stepper looked behind himself.

"I'm talking to you. Stop looking back, dummy." Butter's voice echoed from farther down the corridor.

"Honeycakes... mind the language." Clock drifted past Katherine, violet Gloom gathering around him like a coming storm.

"I'll take the Abominations. Butter has the Enforcers. Katherine, the experiment. That's the plan." Ankou smiled faintly, drawing once more from his cigar.

"Charming. You have everything neatly assigned. Roles, responsibilities..." Smoke curled lazily between them.

"Almost adorable. Like children casting themselves in a play whose ending has already been written." Daniel chuckled.

"Ja. We all know how that ends." Clock moved. Ankou's cigar traced a lazy arc through the air. Katherine lunged. The corridor erupted into chaos. — The recreation wing sprawled across the eastern sector of the Nest like a jewel set into grey stone. Polished marble reflected the warm amber glow of crystalline chandeliers suspended high overhead.

Faceted crystal scattered the light into shifting patterns that danced across murals of Syndicate victories - faceless soldiers standing triumphant over shadowed enemies, the individual erased in favour of the collective. The air smelled of expensive perfume, cigar smoke, roasted coffee, and the faint sweetness of Apis lingering beneath it all. Casino tables stretched across the hall. Roulette wheels spun with hypnotic precision.

Baccarat and poker games drew clusters of well-dressed operatives whose tailored suits and gowns had replaced their magpie armour for the evening. At the mahogany bar, bartenders mixed shimmering drinks while quiet conversations drifted between discussions of missions, promotions, and Syndicate politics. Nearby, a knot of scientists argued around a holographic projection, voices rising and falling with academic intensity until one silver-haired woman dismissed the entire debate with a wave and walked away.

The recreation wing was a world unto itself. At its centre, surrounded by admirers and sycophants, sat Pyramid. He was the sort of man who made you check your pockets after shaking his hand. His skin carried a sickly yellow undertone, the product of too many sleepless nights and too much cheap wine. A neatly trimmed goatee and matching moustache framed a smile that never seemed to disappear, even when it should have.

His broad nose dominated his face, while pale amber-brown eyes constantly measured everyone around him without a trace of warmth. A gold tooth flashed whenever he smiled. His tailored black jacket and silk shirt were undeniably expensive, though they wore him rather than the other way around. Platinum cufflinks bore the Syndicate's emblem, and a silver chain rested against his chest with a small pyramid pendant.

He lounged comfortably in the booth, one arm stretched across the backrest, the other cradling a glass of dark red wine. His fingers were blunt, the nails bitten short, forever moving as he spoke, drawing attention away from the details he preferred to hide. Two trainee girls sat beside him, hanging on every word. They looked barely nineteen, dressed in neat, muted dresses that marked them as trainees rather than full operatives.

The redhead wore emerald earrings that matched her green dress, copper curls spilling over her shoulders.

"And then what happened?" she asked eagerly.

"After the second Abomination?" Pyramid laughed, just a little too loudly.

"Ah... that's where it became interesting." He sipped his wine before continuing.

"The second one was bigger. Smarter. It had been studying me, learning my habits. It thought it could predict me." The brunette leaned forward, dark ponytail slipping over one shoulder.

"Did it?"

"Of course not." Pyramid smiled, his gold tooth catching the light.

"That's the difference between operatives and Abominations. They rely on instinct. We rely on planning." He traced a slicing motion through the air.

"I let it corner me. Led it into a narrow corridor where its size became a disadvantage. One strike from above..." He tapped the base of his skull.

"Finished." The redhead inhaled sharply.

"Was it... terrifying?"

"Terrifying?" Pyramid chuckled.

"No, my dear. Terror is what your enemies feel when they see you." He paused dramatically.

"What I felt was satisfaction. Knowing I'd accomplished something nobody else could." The brunette giggled.

"You're so brave."

"Oh, I wouldn't say brave." His hand drifted casually onto her shoulder.

"Effective. I'm very good at what I do." The redhead blinked, suddenly realising she'd been staring.

"I'm sorry. My name's Cassa, and this is-""Ninuy," the brunette finished with a shy smile.

"We're almost finished with training. Three more months until we receive the serum."

"The Magpie Serum," Pyramid repeated knowingly.

"A great honour. It changes you. Marks you. Separates you from ordinary people." Ninuy hesitated.

"Does it... hurt?" Pyramid's expression softened just enough to appear sincere.

"Everything worthwhile hurts, my dear." He swirled the wine in his glass.

"When you wake afterwards, you'll be stronger than you ever imagined. Faster. Sharper. People who once impressed you will seem slow... ordinary... beneath your notice." His pale eyes gleamed.

"That's when the real work begins."