Theresa led them down, every movement sharp with purpose.Florence trailed behind her, barefoot and glowing faintly in the red emergency light.
Each tremor of the collapsing facility sent ripples through the railings. Somewhere above them, the sound of a god's laughter cracked through the clouds — the Herrscher of the Void had been born, and Babylon Labs was paying for its sins.
"Keep close," Theresa ordered, her voice steady. "This way leads to the lower evacuation wing."
Florence's eyes glimmered in the half-dark."Sure thing, Captain Shortcake."
Theresa didn't even turn. "If I had time, I'd lecture you for that."
"Lucky me," Florence said, grinning.
The group behind them — the surviving doctors and assistants — stumbled through dust and alarms. One of them, the same young man Florence had healed earlier, clutched a small medkit like it was a holy relic.
A section of the upper stair gave out. Concrete shards fell. Florence's hand came up on instinct — white-gold light bloomed, soft and alive, catching the debris mid-fall and scattering it into harmless motes.
The assistants froze in awe.
Theresa saw it too. Her eyes narrowed, calculating, but she said nothing and pushed forward.
They reached the lower corridor — or what was left of it. The floor was cracked like a spiderweb; cables hung from the ceiling like veins. Warning lights flickered in exhausted rhythm.
"Power grid's failing," Theresa muttered. "We don't have long."
Florence bent to pick up a datapad half-buried in debris. Its cracked display still showed faint readings — Honkai energy levels surging beyond control. She tilted her head."Your toys broke."
Theresa gave her a brief glance. "Everything here was meant to break. Babylon should've been shut down years ago."
"Guess I'm the refund," Florence said lightly, though her expression dimmed for half a heartbeat.
They pushed on. Every corridor looked the same — white walls charred gray, glass shattered into frost. The air itself buzzed with Honkai radiation.
Florence's body reacted to it like a mirror to sunlight: veins of light rippling under her skin, neutralizing what would have melted anyone else.
The others stayed close; standing near her felt like breathing cleaner air.
A muffled cry came from ahead — one of the side labs still intact. Theresa moved first, her greatsword slashing through the door controls.
Inside, two scientists were trapped beneath a fallen light rig. One of them was unconscious, blood pooling from a head wound.
Theresa lifted the beam as if it weighed nothing. Florence crouched, pressing a glowing palm to the wounded man's forehead.
"Shh… hold still," she whispered. "You'll mess up my reputation for miracles."
The bleeding stopped almost instantly. The man's breathing evened. The remaining scientist stared, trembling.
"What— what are you?"
Florence looked up, smiling faintly. "Bad PR for Babylon."
"Move," Theresa said, motioning them toward the exit. "We can't stay."
As they fled, the world above them shifted again — a low, resonant boom that made the air ripple. Dust rained down in sheets.
Florence stopped and glanced upward. The faint blue gleam in her eyes deepened to molten gold.
"She's angry," she murmured. "The one upstairs."
Theresa's steps slowed. "You can feel it?"
"Hard not to. She's… loud." Florence smiled sadly. "Pain usually is."
They exchanged no more words. There was no time for sympathy between people burning in the same fire.
They reached the service corridor — a long metallic tunnel leading to the lower transport bay. The evacuation lights ahead pulsed weakly through smoke.
Theresa gestured the others forward. "There's an extraction vehicle waiting outside. Once you're on board, do not look back."
The doctor who had led Florence's experiments hesitated. "And you?"
Theresa's tone left no argument. "I'll make sure the way stays open."
Florence stepped up beside her, glowing softly in the dark."Then I'll help."
Theresa frowned. "You're injured."
"I'm stubborn," Florence corrected. "Comes with the bloodline, apparently."
That earned the faintest flicker of amusement from the Valkyrie.
When the survivors reached the outer gate, a distant explosion rippled through the facility. The wind outside carried snow and screams in equal measure.
Theresa turned to Florence. "We go now."
Florence didn't move immediately. She looked back down the tunnel, toward the collapsing heart of Babylon Labs.
Through the settling smoke, she could almost hear the ghosts of her childhood — the laughter of a five-year-old taken from home, the echo of machines measuring her humanity in decimals.
She whispered, "Goodbye."
Then the corridor collapsed.
Theresa caught her arm and pulled her through the final gate. The world outside was chaos — a storm of ice and violet fire.
A Schicksal transport waited beyond the blast doors, engines howling. They climbed aboard just as the last shockwave tore through what remained of Babylon.
Inside, silence.
Florence sat across from Theresa, her hands faintly aglow. The doctor stared at her as though she were an equation he had written but could no longer solve.
Theresa finally broke the quiet."What you did back there — that light — I've never seen anything like it."
Florence leaned her head back against the cold metal wall. "Good. Means I'm doing it right."
Theresa gave a small, weary laugh. "You're something else."
"I get that a lot."
The APC lurched forward, cutting through snow and ash. Through the small rear window, the ruins of Babylon faded into the storm — a monument to arrogance and despair.
Florence watched until it vanished, her reflection staring back at her with eyes that were no longer purely human.
"Where to now?" she asked softly.
Theresa's gaze softened. "To somewhere safe."
Florence smiled faintly. "Safe's overrated."
Theresa didn't disagree.
Outside, the sky still burned with the echoes of a fallen city.Inside, a girl with Schariac blood — and something far older in her veins — began the long road toward remembering who she was.
And for the first time in years, Florence felt something new humming beneath her heartbeat.
Not fear.Not anger.
Hope.