Chapter 93
Shifting Fate
Everyone was bruised, broken, and hollow-eyed.
They sat in a loose circle, lips sealed in firm lines.
The fissure still hissed faintly behind them, but the searing heat had relented.
Replaced by cold dread.
The small fire crackling in the middle of them doing little to dispel the chill sinking into their bones.
Chris looked down to his outstretched arms, as if afraid of his own skin.
Erratic swirling patterns traced his forearms and hands, like the ghost of flames.
The skin was smooth and unblemished, but darkened with a tanned color.
Like that of his father’s own complexion.
He was overwhelmed by the power thrumming through his body.
I’m… not the same.
His center rumbled, a sphere of gaseous flame.
Swirling heat collected, condensing, and finally exploding outward.
Flaring against the barrier of his Core, it roared, pulling back in.
Exploding once again.
Muscles corded with strength.
Drawing in a deep breath, he felt the oxygen flood his system.
He looked down at his titanium leg.
I feel healthier than I ever have in my entire life.
His brain buzzed, thoughts flowing smoother, forming links.
Connections.
They're everywhere…
Blood pulsed through his temples.
The static lines screeching through the air, the soil, through everything, was overwhelming.
Focusing entirely on the thump from the micro-explosions in his Core helped.
Slowly, as the white noise was drowned out, the building headache receded.
As a shaky breath left him, only the most glaring connections remained, buzzing quietly.
Like the ones formed between him and his father.
George sat opposite, staring into the flames like he left something there.
“Dad…”
Chris’ voice cracked.
“It's fine Son. I would do it again.”
“But… you can’t… that's the point.”
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“Don’t care. You're alive.”
He gave his son a real smile.
“And you're going to stay that way, damnit.”
Chris looked like he wanted to say more.
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“Bah, you don't get to ride every road, Son. Now I get to see where this one goes.”
A depressed silence hung over them, lost in the thought of what had happened.
Irrevocably drawn to thoughts of what was yet to come.
Dan wielding a stick, poked distractedly at the fire, keeping its meager flames alive.
Jaime leaned against him, her hand locked with her daughter’s sitting on her other side.
Kim sat against a boulder, wincing as she stretched her tender back, cultivating her still meager supply of Qi.
Luna lay curled beside her, eyes constantly shifting to and fro.
“So… what are we going to do about the Nexus Dungeon? I do not sense any more defenders…”
Jimmy scratched at the stubble on his chin, “I know it is not a great time. But will there ever be?”
Chris didn't bother raising his head.
“I want no part of it.”
Dan poked the fire a little harder, embers floating into the air.
“We aren't going down into the dark foreboding cave tonight…”
His eyes flicked to his father and back.
“Maybe not ever…”
Jimmy nodded, “I get it… I do. But maybe, in the morning–”
Luna whined once, sharp, ears perking up.
Then it happened.
A thin, clean cut splits the eastern horizon.
Not close.
Maybe three ridges over.
It doesn't pulse, doesn't flicker.
Just a stark break in reality.
Chris flinched, hard, his newly enhanced senses getting smacked.
“What in the-!?”
Jimmy blinked behind cracked glasses.
“...That light… it transcends…”
He practically vibrated, lost, basking in the radiant glow.
It is not just emitting light. It is… It is…
Reeling, his once towering intellect crumbled, struggling under the sheer weight of the data pouring in.
Cold, stark.
From an endless amount of sources… It is not just light….
It is a broadcast.
A billion variables screamed in a language he almost, but couldn't quite, grasp.
He sat, alone, drowning in bliss and misery.
The exit has now opened.
You have 71:59:21 hours remaining.
Advance. Overcome.
Kim's head snapped up.
“Three days? That's it?”
“Yeah… That’s not a ton of time.”
Dan looked at the distant pillar, frowning in concern.
“Then we run.”
Annette spoke.
Soft, final.
“We all know what happens if we don't make it.”
She looked to her son, determined, as another brick formed in her foundation.
Chris stared at the light, then glanced towards his dad.
“What is it going to cost us?”
George stood, his joints popping like dry kindling.
There wasn’t a Seed humming in his gut anymore.
He shivered, the mountain air feeling a lot colder than it had ten minutes ago.
But as he looked at his son, at the tanned skin of his steady hands, the old biker felt a different kind of strength.
The kind that didn't show up on a stat sheet.
George met his eyes, steady and calm.
A small smile cracked the corner of his mouth.
“Whatever it is, we'll pay it. I'm ready to go home”
Dan looked up from the fire, eyes hard, his stick’s cherry red tip raised in defiance.
"Then we run. Together."
The group nodded.
Bruised, broken, but not beaten.
