The chamber convulsed. The floor shook so violently that Min-joon toppled to his knees, clutching the rail as dust and fragments of metal rained down. The crimson eye in the depths dilated, then contracted, like some massive lung drawing in breath. The sound was worse than any roar—it was the grinding of entire walls shifting, gears the size of buildings turning, as if the abyss itself had awakened fully to Lin's defiance.
The broken sentinels at his feet should have been dead machines. Sparks hissed from their torn torsos, hydraulic fluid pooled like dark blood on the steel. But the abyss pulsed once more, and their pieces twitched. Limbs jerked. Cores flickered weakly. Lin's gaze snapped to them, fists tightening.
Keller's voice came sharp: "Lin—look out!"
