CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
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The lab had forgotten how to breathe.
The monitor screamed a single, merciless note.
Dr. Stephanie stood over her, hands already moving even as dread clawed up her spine.
Dr. Stephanie: No, no, no.
They worked anyway.
Because that was what soldiers did.
That was what doctors did.
That was what people did when the impossible dared to happen.
Chest compressions.
Stephanie's hands pressed down, precise and brutal, counting under her breath as if numbers could anchor reality.
Epinephrine.
A syringe snapped empty, medication flooding a heart that refused to listen.
Defib—clear—shock—nothing.
Li's body jolted.
Ryan stood frozen near the wall, fists clenched so tight his arms trembled.
Ryan: (Hoarse) Come on, boss lady… don't you dare quit on us.
Again.
Evelyn's voice cracked as she stepped forward, eyes burning.
Evelyn: (Mumbled) Come on, Xuefang.
(Out loud) Clear!
Again.
The paddles struck.
The shock rippled through Li's body.
Yet—Flatline.
The sound drilled straight into Archive's skull.
Archive: (Teary eyed) No, no. Please...
He shook his head like denial alone could rewrite the data flooding his lenses. His hands hovered uselessly over a console he had once trusted with his life. Code couldn't fix this. Algorithms couldn't bargain with death.
Ryan turned away, dragging a hand over his face, teeth clenched so hard his jaw trembled. His fists clenched until his knuckles cracked, skin splitting beneath pressure he didn't register.
Evelyn's hand flew to her masked mouth, breath hitching as if the room had suddenly lost oxygen.
Dr. Stephanie went still.
For half a second—too long.
Archive turned away from the monitors, shoulders shaking, tears sliding silently down his face—the kid who worshipped her like a legend, now watching the legend die.
Archive: (Whisper) Please…
María stood near the back wall, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if holding her body together. Her eyes never left Li's face.
She didn't cry.
She just looked… lost.
Sixteen years of resentment.
Sixteen years of misunderstanding.
And now the woman she had blamed might leave without ever explaining why.
Dr. Stephanie swallowed hard and forced herself to move.
Her hands shook.
But her voice—her voice still commanded.
Dr. Stephanie: One more round.
A nurse hesitated.
A Nurse: But Doctor—
Dr. Stephanie spun, eyes blazing.
Dr. Stephanie: I said one more round!
Charging… clear—
The paddles slammed down.
The shock echoed through the chamber.
Flatline.
The sound broke something inside her.
Dr. Stephanie's knees buckled, and she collapsed backward, landing hard on the floor. She didn't look away. Couldn't. Her gaze stayed locked on Li Xuefang's lifeless body.
Ten seconds stretched into an eternity.
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
Then—
The lab system glitched.
Lights flickered.
A low distortion rippled across the monitors.
The flatline tone cut off.
Abruptly.
A soft beep replaced it.
Then another.
Uneven. Weak.
A trembling line crawled across the screen like a newborn heartbeat finding its way.
MED TECH: Wait—
Pulse detected!
The room exploded into motion.
Archive staggered forward, nearly collapsing into the console as relief crashed through him.
Archive: It's back—slow, unstable, but real!
Dr. Stephanie was already on her feet, adrenaline ripping her forward.
Dr. Stephanie: Stabilize her! Keep LUMEN-9 suppressed—don't let it spike!
Hands moved fast again, but now with purpose.
Evelyn exhaled in a shuddering gasp, like she'd been holding her breath for years.
Ryan sucked in air sharply, knees nearly buckling beneath him. He leaned heavily against the wall, laughing once—a broken, disbelieving sound.
Ryan: (Laughing once, broken) Stubborn ass woman…
Xynra's voice filtered through the overhead system—steady, reverent, almost quiet.
Xynra: Vital signs restored. Subject remains unconscious. I'll be disconnecting from your wares now.
The screens dimmed slightly as the AI withdrew.
Archive sank into a chair, letting out a choked sob that was half-laugh, half-prayer.
María closed her eyes and whispered something in Spanish—words meant for the dead, now redirected to the living.
Li Xuefang lay still.
Alive.
Dr. Stephanie's gaze shifted—not to the woman, but to the translucent projection hovering near her chest.
The Aetherlock Wall.
It hadn't shattered.
But a fracture ran through it—thin, glowing, pulsing faintly with something dangerous.
Hope.
Evelyn spoke softly, voice trembling with awe and fear.
Evelyn: Whoever turned her into a weapon never planned for love to survive inside her.
The room exhaled together.
Unaware—
That the missing variable was still out there.
And the wall was only delaying the inevitable.
And somewhere in the dark behind her sealed eyes, the AetherLock Wall glowed brighter than ever—
Waiting.
For a force it did not believe existed.
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