TIME : T-46:20 → T-45:05
The iron door creaked open, mildew and ozone hitting my face.
B3 Data Spire.
Red light sluiced the server racks, like a blood tide.
Racks stacked a maze, gaps narrow as coffins.
Each rack topped with red LEDs—blinking in sync, 0.8 seconds.
"Harvester Nodes." Rhea spat blood. "Trunk line."
We hugged the wall, boots crunching glass—grit-grit.
Suddenly—
Rack tops clicked.
Not collapse. Unfurling.
Silver mesh descended—nano-cutting net.
"Fuck! Down!" I yelled.
Too late.
Net settled on shoulders—cold.
Like ice silk brushing skin.
One second later—
"AAAAH—!!!"
Rhea screamed.
Left arm severed clean at the shoulder, stump mirror-smooth, blood arcing three meters—dark red threaded with blue—hybrid blood.
Fuck! She's a Hybrid too?!
Net tightened.
Creak… creak…
Like a python constricting.
Shadows shifted between racks.
Marcus Boone stood there, scar split on his left cheek, blood and oil streaking down.
Right hand gripping a hydraulic clamp, jaws dripping blue gel.
Holster on his hip—9mm Glock, black as sin.
"Kai Lin." He grinned, gaps in his teeth. "Hand it over."
Fuck! How'd he find this?
I stepped back, spine hitting cold metal.
Clamp raised.
"Hand over your mother." I panted. "Marcus, does your daughter still eat red-bean buns?"
His eyes flickered.
Pupils stuttering.
Throat clicked—like gears jamming.
Chance!
I lunged, swinging the clamp for his right eye!
Target: lens.
He didn't dodge.
Glock cleared—
BANG!
Bullet grazed my ear, clanged the rack, *shell tinking my hand—hot!*
I dropped, rolling, snatching shattered teapot—blue-and-white porcelain, old Chinese teapot, jagged edge.
Hurled it!
CRANG!
Smashed his wrist!
Glock flew, clattering atop the rack.
Marcus staggered, clamp whipping up for my neck!
I dodged—
Jaws grazed my throat, scraping skin, stinging.
Left hand snatched his wrist—
Cold, slick, joints silent.
"Fuck your ancestors!" I roared, right leg driving for his chest!
He didn't retreat.
Clamp angled, slashing my neck!
I arched back—too slow.
Jaws bit three inches deep!
No blood spray.
Only pale blue gel oozing—cold, almond-scented—Cu-Cluster suspension fluid.
Fuck! Cervical dislocation!
Vision darkening, titanium screaming in my arm.
Marcus grinned, wax face splitting—copper wires flashing in gums: "…pain feedback… 99.7%… acceptable…"
Rhea's stump bubbled blue gel.
She gritted teeth, Orchid jammed into the force-field pillar—
ZZT-PAK!
Blue sparks erupted, field flickered dead 0.5 seconds!
"Kai! Go!" She roared, voice cutting the din.
I yanked my left hand free, fingers diving for his copper ring!
Thumb jammed the seam—
Click!
Ring loosened half a millimeter.
He froze.
Pupils flickering.
Now.
I kicked off the rack, twisting mid-air—
Left hand yanking his wrist, swinging him full-circle into the server!
CRASH—!!!
His head slammed steel—
Cervical crack dislocated, face twisting 180 degrees against his spine.
Like Mrs. Chen.
But he didn't fall.
Clamp still at my throat.
Throat clicking, voice glitching: "…calibrating… 99.7%…"
Rack reds flashed—
Reanimated flooded in!
Fat cook leading, pupils locking on me.
Marcus's clamp pressed deeper—
Airway closing.
I stared at his twisted face—
Sclera flickered cloudy.
Like a glitching screen.
"Cook!" I roared, voice tearing. "Red-bean buns—less sugar!"
Marcus froze.
T-45:05.
Minute Thirteen: complete.
Clamp still at my throat.
But in my palm—
Half a loosened copper ring.
Thanks for entering B3's server maze. When Marcus's Glock shell burned Kai's hand—did you wince? 🔥
Drop a "🔥"—top comment gets Kai's exact curse in Ch14!
Copper rings don't lie. Neither do we. #Chrono60