Chapter 106: Vykhor’s Choice

The Master, for his part, was savoring every second.

“I shaped her mind, altered her DNA, selected her traits. She was born to be superior. And you ruined her with your pathetic emotions, your impulses, your… attachment.”

He nearly spat the last word, as if it burned his mouth.

Vykhor took a single step forward. Just one. But every muscle in his body was screaming.

The prosthetic on his right arm let out a low growl, reflexively activating its offensive modules.

He no longer needed answers. This man was the embodiment of everything he despised.

“You’re not leaving this room alive,” Vykhor murmured, his voice steady.

Behind him, Griffin didn’t stop him. Zeynn moved slightly aside, as if he sensed that this moment did not belong to him.

The Master tilted his head, amused.

“Ah. The so-called fallen prince. Are you going to kill me for creating the woman you love?”

There was a frozen silence. Then Vykhor smiled.

“No.”

He jerked his chin toward Evelyn.

“I’m going to kill you because you destroyed her.”

The air vibrated with a first rumble, heavy with anger, pain, and resolve.

The Master’s smile widened.

“Emotion. That’s always where you fall. You thought this reunion was a victory?”

He raised his hand slightly.

“It was only a test. And you have just failed.”

Everything exploded.

The walls shook. Hatches opened in the floor. Drones burst from the ceiling, modules activated in the walls, spewing waves of gas and blinding light.

A piercing whine tore through their ears.

“SCATTER!” Griffin shouted.

But it was already too late.

A disorientation field crashed down over the chamber. The group’s tactical links scrambled. Space fractured, walls rotated, access points shifted.

The Master had anticipated this moment. In truth, he had anticipated everything: their arrival, their positions, their weaknesses.

The room itself was coming apart like a puzzle. And when the dust settled and they caught their breath, Evelyn and Vykhor were alone.

Sealed Sector – Reconfigured Central Chamber

The walls still throbbed with the last spasms of reconfiguration. The storm had passed… temporarily. But chaos still prowled, like a predator lying in wait.

Evelyn was frozen, one knee on the ground, the case set before her, gripped in both hands.

The weight of the world, condensed into a hermetically sealed container. She knew. And she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered. “They’re not monsters. Not yet. Some of them are… barely born. They didn’t choose to exist.”

Her voice was shaking. A voice she usually controlled, calibrated like a surgical probe. But not now.

She closed her eyes, incapable of acting. Incapable of betraying her oath, her compassion forged in fire, suffering, and resilience.

Behind her, no words. Just the heavy steps of Vykhor Kael’thar as he moved closer.

He didn’t ask anything. He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t question the function of the case. He knew.

Not through words, but through eyes, tone, context. Through the Master’s gaze.

And above all, through what he had glimpsed in the eyes of his My’Lari.

So he bent slowly. His gloved fingers brushed Evelyn’s.

She wanted to pull the case back. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Because she knew.

She knew what he was about to do.

“Vykhor…”

He looked up at her. His steel-colored eyes burned with cold, cutting determination.

“You are my My’Lari,” he said softly. “And I will not let anyone turn you into a weapon.”

He straightened, the case in his hand. And in his gaze, there was no hesitation.

“Whether they are half-formed or already armed, they are not you. They will never be you. They are the perversion of a monster who wants to redefine you. To steal you.”

He pressed the lock on the case. A click echoed. The first layer of protection disengaged.

Evelyn held her breath. She reached out, as if to stop him, but Vykhor met her gaze head-on.

“You live with the consequences. I take responsibility for them.”

He entered the manual sequence Evelyn had deciphered earlier.

“Security lock disengaged. Injection protocol ready.”

The case was there. Open. The virus primed. Only one step remained.

Evelyn said nothing.

She simply looked at him. Deeply. Intensely. The gaze of a My’Lari upon her Tav’Ren. She knew this was not her choice to make, but his.

Vykhor knelt beside the case, the prosthetic on his right arm vibrating faintly as it recognized the interface. His yellow eyes locked onto the screen. The protocol was clear. One motion. One command. And all of the Master’s clones would be condemned.

Children. Incomplete bodies. Sleeping weapons. Mistakes, perhaps. But above all… threats.

Vykhor had not been programmed to hesitate.

He drew a slow breath. The metallic taste of dust, the memory of flames consuming his parents’ palace, Evelyn’s screams as she knelt beside Marn Sevil… everything surged back at once.

This had to end.

With a sharp, decisive motion, he confirmed the activation of the virus. No words. No visible emotion.

But Evelyn felt the echo ripple through the chamber. The contained intensity. The silent promise of a man who had just done what was necessary, not what he wanted.

She said nothing. She looked at him. Then, gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder, without a word.

That simple contact was enough. Because there was nothing left to say.

Vykhor Kael’seth had just condemned living beings, because he had chosen to.

Because he was the one Marn Sevil would have trusted to do it.

And she, Evelyn Ashcroft, no longer had to carry that weight alone.

They rose together.

The virus was active. All that remained was to inject it into the central system.

And for that, they had to find their pack.

Transit Hall B-17 – Lower Level of the Complex

The corridor was still shaking, dust drifting down in uneven waves from shattered ventilation grates.

Zeynn was in front. No—he was charging.

He wasn’t moving with feline grace. He was lunging with the fury of a young predator whose pack had just been wounded. His sharpened claws screeched against the floor, his pupils locked straight ahead.

“I’m going to rip that monster’s tongue out,” he spat, every word like a knife strike.

Behind him, Griffin followed in long strides, silent, his face carved by a tension that had lived in him for years. But this time it wasn’t cold fear.

It was contained fire.

His daughter was there. Facing her executioner. And he would not let the past repeat itself.

Blue, massive and imposing, ran like a charging beast. He tore through corridors, swept obstacles aside with a single paw, growling whenever an armed silhouette appeared. His electric-blue fur seemed to vibrate with every surge of energy. He wasn’t following Zeynn.

He was leading the way.

Rax, farther back, covered the rear, his eyes missing nothing. He wasn’t a soldier like the others. Not an adopted child or a surrogate father. But he had chosen Evelyn.

And he was ready to do whatever it took to end this madness.

A guard burst from a side door, too slow, too confident.

Blue leapt.

There was a guttural scream and a sharp crack.

Zeynn didn’t even turn around.

He was panting now, muttering under his breath, as if to keep himself from shattering.

“I knew it. I knew he was a piece of shit. I always felt it. The way he talked to us, like we were pawns. Test subjects. But her… she doesn’t deserve this!”

Griffin placed a brief hand on the boy’s shoulder without slowing him.

“She’s strong. She’ll hold.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” Zeynn growled. “Not alone. Not this time.”

Their eyes met for a heartbeat. Griffin nodded. The kid was right.

He accelerated even more.