Chapter 88: The Point of no Return, I
The hallway was dim and long, its steel walls scorched with black streaks, smeared blood, and ruptured panels. Faint sparks hissed from overhead conduits, crackling like dying embers. Lights flickered in pulses—failing, fading. A low emergency siren wailed somewhere far off, muted by the distance and depth. Beneath it all—the low throb of gunfire and screams.
Lucien walked alone.
His boots pressed soundlessly against the floor, not from silence, but because the battle had numbed it all senses.
Every step brought him closer to the main floor.
Beyond the reinforced bulkhead ahead, gunfire grew sharper, louder. Chaos. Distant shouting. Flashes of stolen Chronos weaponry discharging with wild, untrained hands.
He exhaled slowly.
The final set of doors parted as he reached them. They opened without restraint.
The main floor was a battlefield.
A vast chamber of war. Collapsed barricades, overturned crates, scattered weapons trampled with grime and blood. Dozens of coalition soldiers already within—some taking cover, some shouting orders, some confused, some too panicked to think. But all still charged forward, unaware of what had just walked in.
Lucien stood in the center.
No words. No speech. No warning.