He could feel the Core's energy coursing through him now, burning his nerves raw, fusing into his veins like molten fire. His body wasn't just fighting—it was changing, against his will.
A pulse of gold erupted outward, flattening everything in a half-mile radius. When the light cleared again, Cain was still standing—but barely.
The Core's heart was gone, reduced to slag and silence.
Nebula forced a weak laugh. "You lunatic… you actually did it."
Cain didn't reply. His eyes were locked on his own hands—hands that now shimmered faintly with gold lines, tracing over his skin like circuitry.
Something had imprinted itself onto him.
He stumbled once, catching himself on the remnants of a broken wall.
Nebula, still kneeling, tilted his head. "What's wrong?"
Cain's voice came low, hollow. "It's not over. That thing wasn't just a machine—it was a lock. And I just broke it."
Nebula frowned. "A lock for what?"
The sky answered for him.
