CHAPTER THIRTY
Balcony, Ryan's Apartment — Night
The city breathed beneath her.
New York stretched endlessly below the balcony, a lattice of white and amber lights, sirens weaving through the distance like restless ghosts. Wind brushed past the high-rise, tugging faintly at curtains behind the glass doors.
Li Xuefang stood alone.
Her posture was straight despite the damage her body carried. Her left arm was bandaged from shoulder to wrist, immobilized but disciplined. With her right hand, she lifted a small, worn medallion into the moonlight.
Its metal was scratched. Dull. Scarred by years of service and blood.
Colonel Mei's medallion.
The memory was precise—him pressing it into her palm, fingers already losing strength, breath thinning against the Manhattan pavement. His eyes had not been afraid. Only determined.
The other half—he had told her—was with his eleven year old son. Still in China. Still alive.
A keepsake split in two, he had said. So he'll know he wasn't forgotten.
Li closed her fingers around it, the edges biting into her skin.
Colonel Mei had asked only one thing of her.
That she adopt his son—or at least protect him. Raise him. Give him a future worthy of the life his father had spent.
Xynra's voice surfaced softly, precisely calibrated not to intrude.
Xynra: Speculative analysis: Colonel Mei's dying request carries ethical and honorary weight. Probability of long-term impact—
General Li: …I'll do it.
The words left her before calculation. Before doctrine. Before systems could intervene.
Xynra paused—a fractional hesitation that only Li would notice.
Xynra: Confirmation required. You are agreeing to adopt—
Another voice cut through her thoughts.
Smooth. Intimate. Mocking.
LUMEN-9: How noble of you, Leah.
Li's breath hitched, barely audible.
Her fingers tightened around the medallion until metal creaked faintly.
LUMEN-9: A child. A bond. How… inconvenient for a weapon.
Pain bloomed—violent and sudden—deep in her chest.
Li staggered back a step, one hand flying to her heart. This was not physical trauma alone. It was systemic. Internal. Something was being forced shut.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
Inside her body, the Aetherlock Wall groaned—fractures crawling across its surface.
Evelyn approached from behind, concern already in her step.
Evelyn: (Approaching) Xuefang, is everything all...
LUMEN-9: Emotional deviation detected. Initiating correction.
The grunt Li let out was sharp, uncontrolled.
Evelyn: Li?!
Evelyn reached for her, but Li staggered away, instinctively denying contact.
Ryan burst through the sliding door, alarm written across his face.
Ryan: What's wrong?
Evelyn: (Panicking) I don't know!
The pain spiked—harder. Deeper.
Li clutched her chest as her knees buckled, breath shredding into uneven sounds. Her control fractured visibly. For the first time in many years, Li Xuefang looked human.
Evelyn: Li, I don't know what's going on but I'm going to call the emergency...
General Li: No! ... Her lab...
The pain doubled again.
Li gasped—then screamed.
The sound ripped out of her raw and unfiltered, echoing across the balcony, startling the night itself.
Then she collapsed.
Ryan caught her just before she hit the floor, the weight of her sudden and frighteningly limp.
Ryan: Yo—Li?!
Her body went slack in his arms.
Too slack.
Ryan pressed two fingers to her neck, searching.
Nothing.
His face drained of color instantly.
Ryan: Nah—nah—nah, this ain't funny—
Evelyn: W- What is wrong with her?!
He checked again. Harder. Panic setting in.
Still nothing.
His voice cracked, fear punching through every word.
Ryan: Oh heck nah—she ain't breathin'!
Evelyn: What?!
Ryan: She ain't breathin', yo!
The medallion slipped from Li's hand, striking the concrete with a soft metallic clink.
The city lights flickered on below them.
And deep in her brain, unseen system recalculated—
because for the first time, the weapon had stopped breathing.
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