[Day 64 Post-Awakening | LE: 1,934/10,000 | Time Remaining: 36 Days]
SCENE 1: FAILED EXPERIMENT — THORN'S SACRIFICE
[0700 Hours | Medical Bay]
Thorn was screaming.
Not in pain—in absence. The sound an animal makes when it loses its mind.
I stood outside the observation room, watching through reinforced glass as my firstborn Primordial regressed.
Six hours ago, he'd volunteered to return LE to me. "Make Sovereign whole," he'd said.
Now he was a thrashing mass of roots and fury, intelligence gone.
Selene's hands flew across her tablet.
"Vitals stabilizing, but neural complexity dropped 90%. He's... he's plant-level now, Ethan. No language. No memory. Just base survival instincts."
"Will he recover?" My voice was flat. Dead.
"Unknown. The LE transfer didn't just drain him—it unraveled his template. He gave you 50 LE, but lost... himself."
She looked up. Violet eyes wet.
"Ethan, if the others try this—"
"They won't." I turned away. Couldn't watch anymore. "Tell them what happened. Make sure they see this. No one sacrifices for me. Ever again."
Mira was waiting outside.
"Thorn's regression bought you 50 LE. Was it worth it?"
I wanted to hit her. Wanted to scream that nothing was worth Thorn's mind.
Instead: "No."
She nodded. "Good. Because the others are lining up to try anyway."
"What?"
"Renewal, Ember, Whisper—they're all volunteering. They heard Thorn screaming and decided they'd do it better." Her voice cracked. "Ethan, they worship you. They'll kill themselves if you let them."
I closed my eyes.
Felt the Network—eleven Primordials, terrified and determined, waiting for permission to die for me.
"Assemble everyone," I said. "Command center. Now."
SCENE 2: THE SOVEREIGN'S DECREE
[0800 Hours | Command Center]
All eleven remaining Primordials stood in a semi-circle.
Renewal. Ember. Whisper. The others.
Waiting.
I stepped forward. Let the Network carry my words to all of them simultaneously—no room for misunderstanding.
"You want to save me by giving your LE. I'm forbidding it."
Renewal's fern-fronds quivered. "Sovereign, we choose—"
"You choose wrong." My voice hardened. "Thorn didn't sacrifice for me. He sacrificed his mind. And I will not let any of you follow him into that darkness."
"Then what do we do?!" Ember's flames flared. "Watch you fade?!"
"You fight." I met each of their eyes. "We have 36 days. In that time, we destroy Helix's cloning program, secure LE research, and find a real solution. Not martyrdom. Science."
Whisper's dry voice: "And if we fail?"
"Then I die. But you live. You continue. You protect the world I couldn't."
Silence.
Then Renewal stepped forward. Knelt.
"We obey, Sovereign."
One by one, the others knelt.
Not in defeat.
In resolve.
[Primordial Loyalty: ABSOLUTE]
[New Directive: NO SELF-SACRIFICE | Protect Sovereign by WINNING, not dying]
[Thorn Status: REGRESSED | Estimated recovery: 72 hours (partial)]
I looked at Thorn's empty spot in the lineup.
Soon, he'd be back. Damaged. Changed.
But alive.
That had to be enough.
SCENE 3: CREATING BARRAGE — THE SOULLESS WEAPON
[1200 Hours | Greenhouse Section-9 | Restricted]
Dr. Sato had prepared the "birth chamber"—a reinforced cradle designed for combat Primordials.
No aesthetics. Just function.
Kiera leaned against the doorframe, watching me prep.
"You're really doing this? Making a weapon instead of a person?"
"We need firepower for Shanghai," I said. Didn't look at her. "Barrage will provide artillery support. Long-range. High damage."
"And zero personality."
"That's the point."
She pushed off the wall. Stepped closer.
"You know what you're becoming, right? The thing you swore you'd never be."
I met her amber eyes. "What's that?"
"Helix." She smiled. Sad. "They make weapons. You make family. The moment you blur that line..."
She didn't finish.
Didn't have to.
I placed my hand on the growth medium.
180 LE.
Nearly 10% of my remaining pool.
The most I'd ever spent on a single creation.
"Network: Initiate Primordial Template #13. Designation: Barrage. Combat specialization. Ranged artillery. Minimal sentience."
[WARNING: Low-sentience Primordials exhibit psychological instability in Sovereign. Proceed?]
"Proceed."
The LE tore out of me.
Not like before—smooth, birthing, creative.
This was extraction. Industrial. Cold.
The growth medium convulsed. Roots erupted—not elegant like Thorn's oak strength, but utilitarian. Thorned. Barbed.
A lotus shape formed. Massive. Ten feet wide. Petals lined with bio-cannons—organic barrels that could compress air and LE into explosive seed-pods.
No face.
No eyes.
No voice.
Just a weapon.
Barrage activated.
The petals opened. Targeting nodes swiveled—tracking heat signatures, calculating trajectories.
A flat, mechanical voice from the Network:
"Unit: Barrage. Online. Awaiting orders."
Kiera exhaled slowly. "Jesus Christ, Ethan. It's a turret."
"It's effective."
"It's horrifying."
I looked at the thing I'd made. Felt the Network connection—thin, hollow. No personality. No warmth.
Just code.
"Barrage," I said. "Fire test. Target: far wall."
"Affirmative."
The bio-cannons thumped—compressed air and LE igniting seed-pods that screamed across the greenhouse, detonating against reinforced steel in bursts of shrapnel and flame.
Precise. Devastating.
Soulless.
I stumbled.
Kiera caught me. Her hands—surprisingly gentle—steadied my bark-heavy frame.
"You okay?"
"No." I stared at Barrage. "I just made a thing. Not a person. A thing."
"You made a tool. Soldiers do it all the time."
"I'm not a soldier."
"You are now." She turned me to face her. "Ethan, you want to stay human? Fine. But don't lie to yourself. War doesn't care about your morals. It just cares who's alive at the end."
Her amber eyes softened.
"And I'd rather you alive and guilty than dead and pure."
[LE: 1,754/10,000 | -180]
[Primordial #13 BARRAGE created]
[Type: Artillery | Sentience: MINIMAL | Loyalty: ABSOLUTE (programmed)]
[Psychological Impact: ETHAN —Guilt +40% | Moral erosion detected]
I dismissed the alert.
Barrage would win us Shanghai.
That had to be enough.
Even if I hated myself for it.
SCENE 4: SELENE'S TREATMENT — INTERRUPTED
[1600 Hours | Medical Bay]
Selene's hands were on my chest again.
Third session this week. Each one drained her—LE dropping, skin paler, bioluminescent eyes brighter (late-stage Verdant Syndrome symptom).
But she insisted.
"I'm close," she murmured, fingers tracing bark ridges. "There's a pattern to your depletion. If I can isolate the trigger enzyme—"
The door slammed open.
Kiera.
Smirking.
"Should I come back, or can I watch?"
Selene didn't pull away.
Her hands stayed firm on my chest—professional, but her cheeks burned.
"This is a medical procedure, Ms. Navarro."
"Looks pretty intimate from here." Kiera leaned against the doorframe. "All that touching. Heavy breathing. You sure you're not just—"
"Kiera." My voice—Network-edged. Warning.
She raised her hands. Innocent. "Relax, Sovereign. I'm not here to interrupt your... examination. Just wanted to remind you—Shanghai op is in 48 hours. You need to be vertical, not—" she eyed Selene's hands, "—horizontal."
Selene's grip tightened.
Not in anger. In defiance.
"I'm keeping him vertical," she said quietly. "By keeping him alive."
Kiera's smirk faded. Just a fraction.
"Yeah. I know." She pushed off the doorframe. "Sorry, Doc. I'll... leave you to it."
She turned to go.
Paused.
"For what it's worth? You're the only reason he's still fighting. Don't let him forget that."
Then she was gone.
Selene exhaled shakily.
"She's... intense."
"She's damaged," I corrected. "And dangerous. But loyal."
"You trust her?"
"I trust that her revenge and my survival are aligned. For now."
Selene resumed the LE mapping. Quiet for a long moment.
Then: "Ethan... when this is over. If we survive Shanghai. What happens to us?"
"Us?"
Her violet eyes met mine. Vulnerable.
"You'll be sessile in 35 days. Rooted. Immobile. And I'll be... dying. Slower than you, but still dying."
Her voice cracked.
"Do we just... fade together? Is that it?"
I didn't have an answer.
So I did the only thing I could.
I covered her hands with mine. Bark on skin.
"If we fade," I said, "we fade fighting. Not waiting. Not giving up."
"And if fighting isn't enough?"
"Then at least we tried."
She smiled. Small. Sad.
"I can live with that."
[Selene LE: 325/2,000 | Dropping 15/day]
[Estimated survival: 16 months]
[Treatment sessions accelerate her decline, but she refuses to stop.]
[Attachment Level: DEEP | Emotional investment: CRITICAL]
SCENE 5: ARIA'S WARNING
[1900 Hours | Training Deck]
Aria was brutal tonight.
Every strike faster. Harder. Angrier.
I blocked a kick—barely. Bark shin cracked under the impact.
"What's wrong?" I gasped.
"You're distracted." She swept my legs. I hit the mat. "Sloppy. Weak."
"I'm dying, Aria. Cut me some slack."
"Death doesn't cut slack." She offered a hand. Pulled me up. "And neither do I."
But her grip lingered.
Her storm-grey eyes searched mine.
"You're creating weapons now. Barrage. That... thing in the greenhouse."
"We need firepower—"
"You need to remember who you are." Her voice dropped. Intense. "Helix makes weapons. You make family. The moment you forget that—"
"I'm already a weapon, Aria." I pulled my hand free. "Look at me. I'm a walking WMD. Might as well own it."
"No." She stepped closer. Close enough I could feel her breath. "You're a protector. A father. A—"
She stopped.
Jaw tight.
"A what?" I asked softly.
"...Someone worth keeping alive."
The air between us crackled.
Not LE. Not Primordial energy.
Just... tension.
Aria's hand rose. Hesitated. Then touched my chest—right where bark met skin.
"You feel this?" she whispered. "Under all the wood and power. Your heart's still beating. Human."
"For now."
"Then fight for now. Not for 36 days from now. Not for some distant victory. Fight to stay you. Right here."
Her fingers curled. Gripping.
"Because if you lose yourself trying to win... we've already lost."
[Aria Chen: Attachment Level ELEVATED]
[Warning: Romantic tension detected | Recommend boundaries]
I ignored the Network.
Looked into Aria's eyes—fierce, terrified, desperate to save me from myself.
"I'll try," I said.
She nodded.
Stepped back.
"Good. Now block this—"
Her fist slammed into my ribs.
I laughed. Despite the pain.
Maybe Aria was right.
Maybe staying human was the real fight.