Chapter 260
We round the corner and burst into the lower lab at the base of the Marble just in time to see it—long, slick, unnatural. The observation tank that once held it—one of the strongest ever designed by Enigma tech—is split wide open like glass candy. Shards glint across the floor like ice, half-sunken in the seawater pooling across the tile.
The creature is an eel-shaped abomination, its body glistening with a mucous film, slick black skin shivering in the lab’s cold artificial light. But it’s the legs that stop me in my tracks. Dozens of them—thin and spindly, like the limbs of a spider, all jutting out from beneath its pulsing body. They twitch and flex as it scuttles across the lab, impossibly fast, tossing guards like rag dolls.
It screams—this high-pitched, bone-scraping wail that sets my teeth on edge.
“What the hell is that?” I breathe, backing against Wake’s side.
“An Elder Kin,” he growls. “But not like any I’ve ever seen.”
One of the enhanced guards—a man in sleek black armor with a faint shimmer of Darklite filament threading through his vest—rushes forward, only to get flung across the lab like a piece of debris. He slams against a control panel, crumples, and doesn’t move.
Shoal strides forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Magnetic dampeners, now! Where’s the secondary barrier team?”
Lily’s voice snaps through the comms, shrill and sharp. “Secure the breach! We have to keep the water from spilling into the filtration systems or the whole Marble’s compromised!”
Technicians scramble, slipping on the water-slicked floor, shouting over each other as alarms shriek from every wall. Red emergency lights strobe across the room, painting everything in rapid pulses of blood.
Another wave of guards charges in. One fires a pulse rifle that glances off the creature’s hide with a hiss and sizzle. The eel-thing whips toward the source, one of its legs impaling the shooter’s chest before tossing him bodily into the shattered remnants of the tank.
“Lily,” Shoal barks, his jaw tight, “Use the call!”
“I already did!” she shouts, hair plastered to her face with sweat and mist. “I triggered it when the breach happened! They were supposed to respond!”
Shoal whirls on her. “And?”
“It didn’t work!” she spits back. “The bastard ignored it!”
The moment between them hangs, charged. Then Shoal’s gaze flicks to me, to Wake.
I don’t wait for orders. I take a breath and let the electricity build in my chest, feeling it surge along my arms and across my shoulders like a second skin.
“We have to do something,” I say. “Before it kills someone else.”
“Agreed,” Wake says, flicking his dagger out with a metallic click. “Draw it. I’ll flank.”
I nod, electricity crackling at my fingertips, and run toward the beast.
The floor hisses under my steps. The scattered water sparks in contact with my energy, little arcs of lightning snapping outward in wild, haphazard bursts. I raise both hands and send a bolt flying—direct hit. The creature shrieks, its body convulsing, flailing wildly.
Wake appears in its blind spot, fast as a bullet. He slices one of its legs clean through and disappears before it can retaliate, his movements impossibly fluid, like a current dancing between stones. I follow his lead, striking again and again with well-placed electric bursts.
Too bad it doesn't seem to be doing much good. Not only does the thing have skin thick enough to absorb most of our blows, it's adapting, countering our maneuvers. I send a stream of lightning slamming into it's left flank. The eel stumbles back, but when I go in to capitalize on it's vulnerable position, it feints out of the way and sends it's tail whipping in my direction.
Wake intercepts it mid-lunge. He’s a blur, his blade flashing in a tight, controlled arc that severs one of its limbs. The leg thrashes independently as the creature rears back, shrieking. Wake doesn’t stop—he spins into a high kick that slams into its side, knocking it off balance just enough to give me an opening.
I dive forward, sliding through the ankle-deep water. My palms slap the ground as I twist and send a bolt of electricity crackling across the floor. It arcs like a living whip, snapping against the creature’s flank. The eel-thing convulses, but instead of fleeing, it lunges toward me. Its legs click against the tile in a blur of motion, dragging its body behind like a centipede on acid.
I rush in, fists blazing. I don’t just throw lightning—I become it. Sparks crawl across my arms, leap from my fingertips, illuminating the spray of water and shattered glass around me. I punch the creature square in what passes for a shoulder, and electricity floods its nerves. It collapses with a screech that shakes the walls.
We circle it, Wake and I, in a dance of flame and storm. We don’t speak—we don’t need to. Every move I make, he’s already counterbalancing. Every breath I take, he mirrors. We are fury made flesh. And for a moment, it looks like we might actually win...
But it’s not down. One leg lashes out, slicing a line across my thigh. I cry out, falling back, and Wake is instantly there—throwing his blade like a boomerang. It sinks into the creature’s side, and before it can react, he’s caught it again, slashing low. Blood—not red, but oily and iridescent—spills across the floor.
We build a rhythm. He distracts; I stun. He slashes; I burn.
The monster screeches and writhes, slamming into the walls with enough force to dent the reinforced steel. But it starts to falter—body twitching, spasms overtaking its limbs. It collapses momentarily, the puddle around it steaming from the voltage.
“We’ve got it!” I shout, breathless. “We—”
Then it happens.
A vibration under my feet—deep, low, like thunder crawling through the bones of the earth.
I freeze. Wake stiffens beside me.
The tank—what’s left of it—ripples violently.
Something else is coming.
A new roar bellows out, this one deeper, thick with sound that seems to press into my lungs like lead.
The surface of the water surges, rising upward as something immense shifts beneath. I back away, chest tight.
Then it emerges.
First its head—broad and plated, like armor carved from bone. Then its glowing eyes, ringed in a bio-luminescent hue that pulses like a living heartbeat. Water crashes to the floor as the creature heaves its full mass free of the tank, glass crumpling under the force of it.
Another Elder Kin.
Twice the size of the first.
Built for war.
Its tail is long, ridged with hooked barbs. Its body is plated in sections, segmented and churning like gears in some horrible engine. Each movement sounds like grinding stone. It steps forward, testing its new terrain with the confidence of a predator. The first creature snarls beside it, revived by its kin’s arrival.
“Oh no,” I whisper.
Wake raises his blade again. “We’ve got two now.”
And they’re both ready to kill.
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