Chapter 132: Boots Walking
Colby leaned against the wall, his massive frame dwarfing the dim office, one patched eye catching the flicker of Geras’s desk lamp. His gray tank top strained against his chest, veins snaking thick along his arms. "Labs were a nightmare," he said, voice gravelly, like he’d swallowed grit. "After Silas tore Spock out, I was gone—heart flat, blood pooling. Woke up strapped to a table, tubes jabbing my chest, some doc yelling about soul energy. They pumped in this glowing shit—looked like molten glass, burned worse. Felt my veins frying, like they’d burst any second."
Elias shifted in the creaky chair, boots scuffing the black floor, shard pulsing faintly against his ribs. Geras sat behind the cluttered desk, files teetering, his gray undershirt taut as he rapped a knuckle on the wood. "Keep going," Geras said, voice low, sharp, eyes flicking between them.
Colby flexed a hand, knuckles popping loud in the quiet. "They cracked my ribs open, hooked me to machines that hummed like the system itself. Soul energy infusion, they called it—straight into the blood. Kept me alive, but I couldn’t move for weeks. Muscles tore, regrew, tore again. Docs said I was lucky—most die when a shard’s ripped out. Soul shock, they called it. I was their guinea pig, proof you can rebuild a man without one."
Dot’s phased out, her tiny blue form flickering beside Elias, hovering over the desk’s edge. "That’s insane," she said, voice sharp but tinged with awe. "They channeled soul energy into your blood? That’s next-level science—system-level, even. But..." She bobbed, light dimming. "That’s gotta be dangerous. Push too hard, and what? You burn out? Like when an Ikona gets yanked?"
Colby’s jaw tightened, a cord of muscle flexing along his neck. "Yeah. Docs warned me—overdo it, and it’s lights out. Heart seizes, blood boils, same as soul shock. Takes hours to recharge after a big push. I’m strong, but I ain’t invincible."
Geras leaned forward, elbows on the desk, the lamp casting harsh shadows across his face. "He’s a super soldier now," he said, voice clipped. "Two hundred percent baseline—strength, speed, endurance. No shard, no Ikona, just raw output. But it’s a trade-off. Burn too much energy, and he’s down for a day. Burn past that, and he’s dead. System doesn’t care—neither do the labs. They want results."
Elias’s fingers tightened on the chair’s arms, the metal cold under his palms. "So you’re a walking experiment," he said, eyes on Colby’s bulk. "And you’re good with that? Throwing yourself into the Primed Epics with no shard?"
Colby’s grin was small, dry, his patched eye unreadable. "Didn’t have a choice. Flatlined once—ain’t eager to do it again. But Vincent’s got Spock now, my Ikona, and I’m taking it back. Labs gave me the tools; I’ll use ’em."
Dot’s spun, her glow flaring briefly. "Tools with a fuse," she said, voice sharp. "Soul energy’s not stable like a shard. One bad draw, and you’re gone. Scientists are playing god, and you’re the test dummy."