Chapter 128: Emergency Quarantine

CRACK.

Director Gavin Vane slammed his fist onto the console, shattering the monitoring screen.

Sparks rained across the bloodstained observation deck. Behind him, four cartel enforcers stood pale under flickering emergency lights.

On the surviving screen, the security feed’s final recorded loop replayed.

Evren Crawford stood in the arena. After ripping the monster’s obsidian chest plate clean off with bare hands, he had driven the razor-sharp armor straight through its core, shattering its spine and collapsing the twelve-foot beast into a heap of dead flesh.

"Twelve years of biological research," Vane hissed in fury. "Hundreds of millions in reagents. Pulverized... by a delivery brat from the provinces!"

"Director," the lead enforcer whispered, sweat running down his temple. "Sub-Level 8 has been fully surveyed. The adamantine shackles were torn apart with bare hands. Calista Vesper and the obsidian chest are gone."

"And the vault?" Vane demanded, spinning around with venomous eyes.

"Emptied, sir," the man stammered. "All three crates of Grade-5 Celestial Elixir were taken. In Sub-Level 4, the intruders detonated the floodgate. Two patrol boats were crushed, six gunners are dead, and the portcullis bars were peeled open."

A second enforcer stepped forward. "Director, should we contact Grand Arbiter Kincaid? If we alert the Imperial Guard and declare a city-wide terrorist emergency..."

SLAP!

Vane’s backhand struck the enforcer across the face, sending the armored man sprawling across the deck.

"Incompetent fool!" Vane roared. "Sub-Level 8 does not exist on any registry! If Kincaid discovers we enslaved a noble star-weaver and bred chimeric beasts beneath the capital, the High Council will execute me for treason!"

Vane straightened his silk lapels and pulled an encrypted comm-slate from his pocket. He keyed in a three-digit private frequency, and the line chimed once before connecting.

"Silas," Vane said in a harsh whisper. "We have a catastrophe."

"I am listening," Silas Drake’s cold voice replied.

"Evren raided Aethelgard Tower two hours ago," Vane rasped. "He slaughtered Subject Zero with bare hands, took the Vesper asset, and stole the Grade-5 Celestial Elixirs."

A sharp intake of breath hissed over the speaker, followed by the amused chuckle of Elder Brandon Caldwell. "The provincial dog actually bit," he murmured. "He raided your black site to save the Iron-Thistle hunters."

"He has my asset, Caldwell!" Vane snarled. "If that girl talks..."

"She won’t," Caldwell interrupted smoothly. "You cannot report the burglary without exposing your illegal site, Gavin. But I hold the Imperial Defense Committee’s authority."

A sinister smirk echoed in Caldwell’s voice.

"Under Section 4 of the Defense Charter, all frontline units are subject to unannounced supply and fitness evaluations prior to deployment," Caldwell explained. "I will lead a tribunal strike force to the Imperial Sanatorium right now. If Chairman Evren is harboring stolen Grade-5 elixirs or an unregistered asset, he will be charged with wartime treason on the spot."

—

Pale gray dawn light filtered through the tall windows of the private wing on the fourth floor of the Imperial Sanatorium.

In the quiet master ward, Calista opened her eyes.

There was no smell of sulfur fumes, and no freezing bedrock beneath the back of her head.

Instead, a soft lavender fragrance filled the air. A plush goose-down pillow cradled her aching head, and the soft linen edge of a duvet was tucked gently against her chin.

Calista tried to lift her hand to touch her face.

Nothing happened.

A wave of cold dread seized her chest. Below her neck, her body was a terrifying void... completely numb, weightless, and unresponsive. She tried to bend her knees or shift her shoulders, but not a single nerve obeyed.

Only her head and neck could turn.

"You’re awake," a gentle voice spoke from beside the bed.

Calista turned her head slowly on the pillow.

Amber sat in a plush armchair by the bedside in a soft dark-red sweater. On the nightstand sat a steaming bowl of nutrient broth. Standing by the window was Zephyra, her violet eyes scanning the street below through parted lace curtains.

Tears welled in Calista’s silver eyes, spilling down her hollow cheeks into the linen.

"I thought... once the chains were gone, my hands would wake up," Calista whispered. "I can’t feel anything below my neck. I can’t even lift my fingers to wipe my face."

Amber rose gently from her chair. She dipped a warm cloth into a basin of clear water, softly wiping the tears from Calista’s temples.

"The agony collar was clamped to your neck for two years," Amber said in a soothing tone. "The necrotic damage is deep, Calista. Don’t force yourself to move today."

A choked sob caught in Calista’s throat.

"What good was saving me?" she wept, tears soaking the pillow. "I can’t weave starlight or walk. I can’t even hold a spoon to feed myself. I’m just a helpless burden."

"Stop that," Zephyra said, turning away from the window.

She walked over to the bed, pulling back her sleeves to expose her slender forearms, showing faint silver traces where necrotic venom had once eaten into her marrow.

"Four months ago, an S-Rank shadow beast poisoned me," Zephyra said quietly. "My mana veins dissolved. My hands shook so bad I couldn’t hold a spoon. The underworld threw me in a cage to die."

Calista stared up at her through her tears.

"Evren found me," Zephyra continued. "He bought my freedom, spent tens of millions and also risked his life to find divine herbs, and restored my veins step by step. He never once called me a burden."

Amber smiled warmly, picking up the ceramic bowl of broth.

"Six months ago, an S-Rank rift collapsed my lumbar spine," Amber said with affection in her dark-brown eyes. "I was paralyzed from the waist down in a wheelchair, betrayed by my own guild and family. Everyone in Veridia said I would never walk again."

Amber brought a porcelain spoon of warm, savory broth to Calista’s lips. "Evren gave me back my legs," she murmured softly. "He gave me back my life. In Apex, nobody gets discarded, Calista. And nobody gets left behind."

Calista parted her trembling lips, swallowing the warm broth.

The nourishing heat spread through her chest, carrying a warmth she had not felt in twenty-four months. For the first time since House Vesper fell, the cold terror in her soul began to dissolve.

The door clicked open.

Evren inside, wearing a clean black combat shirt and dark trousers. In his hands, he carried the heavy obsidian chest retrieved from the crucible vault.

Calista looked at him, her breath catching in reverence.

"How is she feeling?" Evren asked, walking to the foot of the bed.

"She just finished her first broth," Amber answered with a tender smile.

Evren set the obsidian chest onto the bedside table, placing it directly in Calista’s view. "This belongs to you."

Calista stared at the ancient family crest carved into the black stone. Tears blurred her vision once more.

"The Celestial Starlight Codex..." she whispered. "My parents died to keep Vane from unlocking its master recipes. But what good is it now? I cannot even lift my hands to turn the pages, let alone weave star-flame."

Evren reached down, pressing his thumb against the runic latch.

With a soft mechanical click, the lid opened, revealing glowing, star-patterned parchment preserved in pristine stasis.

"You don’t need to turn pages today," Evren said. "Your only task is to rest and regain your strength. Whatever herbs, elixirs, or sovereign arrays are required to mend your spine and channels, I will get them by all means."

A knock sounded at the door.

Guild Master Walter entered in polished steel armor, a large broadsword strapped to his back. His weathered face showed deep gratitude.

"Lord Evren," Walter greeted with a deep bow. "All fourteen of my hunters have completely stabilized. The bone rot is gone. They are on their feet and eating their first solid meals."

"Good," Evren nodded. "Keep your men on guard."

"Already done," Walter replied. "All fourteen of my boys are geared up and holding the stairwells, the private lift, and the corridor checkpoints. Every blade in Iron-Thistle is ready to defend this wing with our lives."

Before Evren could speak, a screech echoed from Walter’s comm-slate.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Walter tapped the glowing screen, bringing up the exterior scanners.

"Lord Evren." Walter’s voice turned tense. "Six armored transports and four gunships just blocked the boulevard below."

Amber and Zephyra stepped to Evren’s side.

Through the window, searchlights illuminated the insignias on the armored hulls: the Imperial Defense Oversight Committee and the Solar Crown Guild.

Suddenly, an amplified voice boomed through the sanatorium’s exterior speakers, rattling the glass panes.

"Attention Apex Guild and Iron-Thistle Guild!" Elder Brandon Caldwell’s arrogant voice bellowed over the street. "By authority of the Imperial High Council, this facility is under emergency quarantine! Chairman Evren Crawford, open your doors for mandatory wartime inspection, or be branded an enemy of the Empire!"