Chapter 168: Ten-Second Miracle

Chapter 168: Ten-Second Miracle

Wayne removed the tag from his hand. The glow steadied, no longer flickering.

It never went out—turning white as it pulsed above Jenny's chest.

Wayne stood up. His movements weren't rushed, but he didn't need anything to support himself.

He turned to face Bell on the screen.

"You've been chasing this for forty years," Wayne said. "What you've been pursuing, I achieved in less than five minutes."

Bell said nothing.

"According to my authority, without my consent, not even the Grim Reaper can take her away," Wayne said.

The screen froze for seven seconds.

Then Bell lowered his head.

Not in submission—but as a seventy-year-old man who'd spent his entire life trying to reach something, only to watch someone else walk past it effortlessly. An instinctive gesture.

Wayne turned to Isaac and spoke into the comm.

"Reverse activation of Bell's life-extension gene therapy. Can it be done?"

Two seconds of silence from the comm.

"Yes." Isaac's answer was immediate and certain.

"Bell receives a gene-targeting injection every three months to extend his lifespan."

"We hold the patent. The reversal sequence was completed three years ago. Griffin left backup protocols that have never been used."

On screen, Bell suddenly sat upright.

"What did you say?"

Wayne looked at him. "Do you know how long I've been doing this? How old I really am?"

Bell's fingers gripped the edge of his desk.

In truth, he was far older than seventy—the life-extension drugs had kept him looking this way. But that had been twenty years ago.

"You can't do this." For the first time, his composure cracked. "If you activate reverse mode, I'll—"

"However many years you want to live, I can give you," Wayne said, his tone as casual as discussing the weather.

"Fifty years of life. Use it all up in the next ten seconds."

"Isaac."

Bell stood, slamming his hand on the desk.

"Wait. I need to discuss Eden Council's offshore accounts, patent rights, everything else—"

"Isaac. Initiate."

Morrison turned his head away. The change was too fast—beyond comprehension.

Everything Bell had pursued for forty years vanished in ten seconds.

Sagging skin, thinning hair, wrinkles spreading across his hands—deepening by the moment.

Bones began to show through. His spine shrank by nearly four inches.

He reached for something on the desk with trembling hands, but within those ten seconds, his hands aged decades.

Then he collapsed into his chair—or rather, fell into it. The chair made a soft sound as it caught a husk drained by time.

The screen went silent. Isaac spoke through the comm.

"Reversal sequence complete. Bell's vital signs are extremely weak. He can no longer issue valid commands."

After a pause, he added: "Eden Council's global command chain has been automatically severed. The authorized user cannot verify biometric credentials."

Morrison looked away from the wall, turning to Wayne. "That's it?"

"It's not over yet." Wayne walked toward the door, comm in hand. "Downstairs."

The first-floor lobby.

The broken glass hadn't been swept up. Reed's aftermath hadn't been cleaned.

Bloodstains trailed from the entrance inward, turned deep brown under the lights.

Lucius lay on the floor, his back cut by shattered glass. When he tried to get up, his hand slipped.

He crashed into more glass with a low growl.

His white suit was unrecognizable now. Paper scraps and blood still clung to his mouth. The right side of his face was so swollen he looked like someone else entirely.

Wayne came downstairs and stood before him, looking down without saying a word.

Lucius struggled to lift his head. After two seconds of meeting Wayne's gaze, he turned toward the entrance instead.

What he saw outside kept him frozen in that position for a long time.

Outside the lobby stretched a human wall extending from the hospital entrance.

Special forces commanders from every nation stationed here. The highest-ranking military representatives.

Two hours ago, they'd been aiming artillery at Wayne. Now they stood there.

No weapons in hand. No authority left. Just standing.

They weren't looking at Lucius. Every eye was fixed on Wayne.

Rivera stood at the front, his major general insignia gleaming under the lights. He stood straight.

But when Wayne approached, his back bent.

Not a bow—but something pressing down on his spine.

Reed stood beside him, the broken knife handle tucked into his pocket now. Then he dropped to one knee.

The others knelt behind him, row by row, as if a force rippled through the ground.

Completely silent. Orderly. Not a sound.

Lucius's mouth moved, but nothing came out.

Wayne pulled Lucius up from the floor and forced him to turn around, facing the entrance.

Wayne whispered in his ear.

"Use your eyes. Look carefully. All those powerful people you thought ran the world—are they looking at you? Or at me?"

Lucius stood at the entrance, unable to speak.

Because none of them—not one—spared him a glance.

Wayne released him. Lucius threw the glass shard back to the floor and his knees hit the broken glass with a crisp sound.

"Commander." Reed lifted his head from his kneeling position, his voice hoarse.

His right leg bent at an unnatural angle below the knee—broken by an Adjudicator while defending the lobby.

Wayne didn't look at him. Instead, his gaze shifted to someone sitting in a chair in the corner of the lobby.

Only one of Reed's men had survived. His left leg was bent backward at the knee, completely ruined.

Now he was using both hands to prop himself up off the ground, gasping through gritted teeth, sweat dripping to the floor.

Wayne walked over and crouched down. "Name."

"Evans." When he lifted his head, his eyes held no fear—only defiance.

Wayne placed both hands on Evans's injured knee, fingers pressed against skin. No bandage at the lower back.

But warmth radiated from his palms—not intense, but penetrating to the bone.

Evans's body jolted. Because his fracture was moving.

Not from external force. His bones were regenerating on their own.

Morrison stood ten feet away, but he could see Evans's deformed leg clearly.

Where Wayne's palms covered, the healing began. The protruding bone at the knee slowly receded beneath the skin.

Evans clenched his jaw. Throughout the entire process, he made no sound.

Reed, Rivera, and everyone kneeling on the ground rose to their feet. They lifted their heads, watching.

Ten seconds later, Wayne stopped. "Stand up."