The guardian lay in ruin, its massive body crumpled against the steel flooring. Sparks spat from severed hydraulics, and its crimson veins dimmed to nothing. The once deafening thrum of its existence was replaced by silence—an eerie, suffocating quiet that filled the chamber like a shroud.
Lin stood in the middle of it, shoulders heaving, his hands dripping with blackened fluid that stank of rust and rot. His body was battered, every muscle screaming from the force he had unleashed. Yet the worst pain wasn't physical. It was in his head.
The whisper lingered, Jin's voice like an ember that refused to die.
"You feel it, don't you? The rush. The power. You'll never be rid of me."
Lin clenched his fists, trying to shut it out. His heartbeat felt jagged, like his veins were filled with electricity rather than blood. He didn't answer the voice, but the shadow in his eyes betrayed the storm raging inside.
