The machines hissed as pressure built inside them, 92%...94%...95%. Nikolai's blood still poured into the system in violent, pulsing streams. His vision tunnelled, but his resolve didn't falter. Slash. Bleed. Repeat.
And yet, a familiar voice
"If it isn't the lovely boy from the market.
My, how you've grown. Show this sister your face."
But a familiar scent and voice caught his attention as the soft cotton shoes tapped the floor. Her every step carried weight, grace and arrogance.
Nikolai shifted his gaze away, the machines reaching close to ninety percent.
A beautiful, mature woman with faint pink skin, long tendrils that grew from her back and yet they didn't look unsightly. Her sharp gaze, glasses and smile reminded him of the Nexus and the Djinn homeworld.
If not for this woman, he would have lost his mother long ago.
"Madame?"
