Chapter 167: Shoulder’s Climate
"You won’t mess up," Elias said, his tone firm, though his own doubts churned beneath the surface. He placed a steady hand on Junjio’s shoulder, feeling the boy’s shaking through the worn fabric. "You’re stronger than you know, kid. Your dad’s waiting, and we’re going to get him out."
The words were more than reassurance; they were a promise—a lifeline that Junjio could cling to. And for a moment, Elias saw a glimmer of hope return to the boy’s eyes.
Still, Elias’s own heart raced. The countdown pressed against his mind like a vice, each second another step closer to the impossible choice ahead. The faces of those left behind came unbidden—Kikaru’s searing distrust, Faye’s trembling fear, Tidwell’s pained defiance, Paul’s resigned uncertainty, Wes’s unyielding challenge.
Their Ikona dimmed under the nets’ relentless drain, but their expressions remained etched into his thoughts. I can’t let them down, he thought, the weight of their trust a heavy tether he could never break.
Vira’s serpent flicked its tongue, a sharp, almost predatory motion that mirrored her tone. "Enough chatter," she said, cutting through Junjio’s hesitation. Her voice, smooth yet impatient, carried a warning. "My blood can handle any stragglers, but we need the kid’s portals to slip Cube X’s net. Don’t make me regret bringing you, Elias." Her gaze was sharp, measuring, as if testing Elias’s resolve.
Around them, the corridor seemed alive—pipes hissed faintly, the air heavy with the mingled scents of oil and blood, the walls streaked with shadows cast by the unsteady glow of conduits.
Junjio’s breath hitched. The flickering ring of his portal Ikona dimmed further, and his voice wavered. "I’ll try, I promise. But what if I—what if I mess up?" His words broke into silence, his hands trembling as though the weight of his father’s life was too much to bear.
Elias turned toward him, his grip firm on Junjio’s shoulder. "You’ll do more than try," he said, the steadiness of his voice hiding his own quiet fears. The boy’s trembling echoed his own unease, but Elias pushed past it. "You’re getting us through, kid. Your dad’s counting on you." Each word was more than encouragement; it was a promise Elias couldn’t let himself break, no matter how uncertain he felt.
The corridor closed in around them, the rhythmic hum of conduits growing louder with each step. The sounds of fighting sharpened—plasma rounds hissed through the air, steel clashed in bursts of violence, and voices rose in a mixture of defiance and despair.