Chapter 3 CHAPTER 3 — FAULT LINES
“Keep moving,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. “Core’s right there. Lian, stay on Ren. Zhao Yun, feed me any changes.”
Lian still held my arm a second longer. “Wei, you sure you’re alright? That stumble wasn’t like you. Your Thread felt… off again.”
“I said I’m fine,” I answered, pulling away gently but firmly. “Eyes forward. We’re not losing anyone today because I got distracted by wet floors.”
Ren glanced back, axe resting on his shoulder. “Boss, if you need a breather, say it. I can clear the path myself. These things don’t scare me.”
“No solo hero crap, Ren,” I shot back. “We’ve done this a hundred times. Stay in formation. Zhao Yun, what’s the latest on that distortion?”
Zhao Yun’s reply came crisp through the comms. “Spatial stabilization holding at eighty-four percent after your last adjustment, Captain. But my models are… showing slight divergence. Your decisions are improving survival odds faster than projected. I’m recalibrating now.”
“Divergence?” I asked, pushing ahead through the narrowing corridor. The violet light from the Gate core ahead grew stronger, painting everything in sick, shifting hues. “Explain.”
“Nothing critical yet,” Zhao Yun said carefully. “Just… your Thread usage patterns don’t line up perfectly with my probability trees anymore. I’ll have updated numbers in thirty seconds.”
Lian moved closer to me again. “See? Even Yun’s noticing. Wei, talk to us. If something’s wrong with the Thread, we need to know before we hit the core.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I lied, though inside I was already tagging that voice as a new variable. Not grief. Not stress. Something I needed to track. “We seal this Gate, get back to Jing-An, and I’ll run my own diagnostics later. Right now, focus.”
Ren chuckled darkly. “Diagnostics. You sound like Yun. Me? I just want to hit something solid.”
The corridor opened into a wider service chamber, half-flooded, with broken pipes dripping black-tinged water from the ceiling. The Gate core pulsed ahead behind a cracked security gate. Almost there.
Then Ren’s head snapped left. “Movement!”
“Ren, hold position!” I barked.
Too late. He charged forward with a snarl, axe swinging before I could even raise my rifle. A mid-tier beast erupted from the shadows, bigger than the swarm trash, all jagged chitin and whipping tentacles.
“Ren, fall back!” Lian shouted. “It’s too strong for solo!”
Ren didn’t listen. He met the creature head-on, roaring. “Come on! Let’s see what you’ve got!”
The beast lashed out. Ren dodged the first tentacle but took a glancing hit that sent him skidding through the water. He came up laughing, wild and raw. “That all? I’ve had worse from training dummies!”
“Zhao Yun, numbers!” I called, moving to flank.
“Ren’s aggression is pushing his combat output past safe thresholds,” Zhao Yun replied quickly. “Probability of injury just spiked to fifty-seven percent. Captain, you may need to adjust.”
I reached for the Thread, but Ren was already back in the fight. His axe chopped deep into the beast’s side, black ichor spraying everywhere. The creature screamed and wrapped a tentacle around his waist, lifting him off his feet.
“Ren!” Lian cried. “I’m trying to calm it but it’s resisting hard! Wei, do something!”
“Hold on!” I shouted. I tugged the Thread lightly, trying to shift the beast’s balance just enough for Ren to break free. But Ren didn’t wait.
He twisted in its grip like a madman, hacking at the tentacle with brutal, repeated strikes. Blood, his and the beast’s, mixed in the water. “Let… me… GO!” he bellowed with each swing.
The tentacle snapped. Ren dropped, rolled, and came up swinging again. His movements were faster, harder than they should have been. The axe blurred. Chitin cracked. The beast thrashed wildly but Ren stayed on it, relentless, carving it apart piece by piece in a frenzy that made my stomach tighten.
“Ren, enough!” I yelled. “It’s down! Stand down!”
He didn’t hear me at first. One final overhead strike split the creature’s head open. The beast collapsed with a wet crash, sending waves across the chamber.
Silence fell except for Ren’s heavy breathing.
He stood over the corpse, axe dripping, shoulders heaving. Then he blinked slowly. “...What the hell just happened?”
Lian rushed over. “Ren? You okay? That was… intense. Even for you.”
Ren looked at his hands, then at the mangled beast. His face twisted in confusion. “I remember charging it. Then… nothing. Just bits and pieces. Did I win?”
“You won,” I said, walking closer. I studied him carefully. The way his eyes darted, the slight tremor in his grip. This wasn’t normal Ren aggression. “You tore it apart. But you went way beyond what we needed. You don’t remember the last twenty seconds?”
Ren wiped blood from his mouth. “Twenty seconds? Nah… I don’t know, boss. It’s fuzzy. Felt good though. Like I could take on ten of these things right now.”
Zhao Yun’s voice cut in. “Captain, Ren’s vitals are elevated beyond expected combat stress. My models show his performance exceeded human baseline by twenty-eight percent. That shouldn’t be possible without external factors.”
“External factors,” I repeated, eyes narrowing. “Ren, look at me. What’s going on with you lately?”
Ren shrugged, trying to play it off with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just getting stronger, I guess. You complaining? We needed it dead fast and I delivered. Lian, back me up here. It worked, right?”
Lian hesitated. “It did… but Ren, you scared me. You weren’t yourself for a moment.”
I opened my mouth to push harder when the Gate core ahead pulsed.
Once.
A deep, heavy thump that vibrated through the water and into my bones. Like a heartbeat waking up.
The violet light flared brighter for a split second, then settled. But the air felt heavier. Wrong.
Everyone froze.
“What the fuck was that?” Ren muttered, gripping his axe tighter.
Lian whispered, “Wei… it felt alive.”
I stared at the pulsing Gate, my mind racing. The voice. Ren’s blackout. Zhao Yun’s diverging numbers. And now this.
