Kade moved before the second shot landed.
Marei dropped behind the ruined console as shrapnel sliced past her shoulder. Sparks ignited against her sleeve, burning through her coat. She didn't scream—just pressed a palm to the wound and gritted her teeth as Kade vaulted the edge of the room, landed behind cover, and drew both blades in a single motion.
Outside, red visors shimmered in the dust. Silent. Precise.
Catalyst's kill team.
Three units advanced through the debris—military grade exo-frames, built for urban elimination. Their suits didn't broadcast identity or signal. Whoever sent them wanted this quiet. Clean. No trace left behind.
Kade ducked under a burst of gunfire, rolled, and flanked one of the agents. His blade found the weak point between neck plating and helmet—sparks exploded. The body dropped.
Another turned, weapon raised. Kade threw his pulse knife—direct hit. The man convulsed as the electric shock shorted his interface. His visor shattered with a hollow snap.
Then a new sound cut through everything—a low, humming tone that vibrated through the air like a warning bell from another reality. The cube.
Marei looked up.
The Heartline node floated above the wrecked console, pulsing now—glowing brighter than before. The containment field had cracked. The attack triggered something. Its data strings were unraveling in real time.
"Marei!" Kade yelled.
"I see it—" she shouted back. "It's activating autonomously!"
A third soldier charged her, arm raised. She pulled the compression pistol and fired at close range. The kinetic blast hit his chest, sent him flying through a rusted pillar.
Kade ran to her, breath sharp. "We need to kill the signal. If Catalyst traces this, they'll send more."
"I can't shut it down!" she shouted. "Not without corrupting the memory blocks!"
More footsteps—fast, too fast.
Kade turned just in time to see a fourth agent emerging from the stairwell behind them—bulkier armor, different class. No gun. Just two high-frequency blades and the shimmer of a power shield wrapping his chest.
Elite unit.
Kade didn't wait. He ran straight for him.
Their clash lit the room—blades against blades, metal shrieking as sparks rained. The agent moved with terrifying calm, matching Kade strike for strike. He fought like someone who'd studied him—anticipating, adapting.
"Who are you?" Kade growled mid-swing.
The agent didn't speak. Just pressed harder.
One blade slipped past Kade's guard, slashing across his ribs. He stumbled. Pain blossomed like fire in his side.
Marei screamed.
Kade fell to a knee, bleeding.
Then the cube pulsed again—and this time, the pulse had force.
A burst of light swept the room like a wave, invisible but powerful. All electronic signals cut out. The visors of the remaining agents cracked, flickered, and died. Their suits sparked violently.
The elite staggered back, trying to recalibrate.
Marei moved.
She reached into the energy field surrounding the node, ignoring the sparks that licked at her skin, and pressed her fingers against the interface matrix. The cube responded instantly.
It shimmered… then collapsed in on itself, shrinking into a sliver of light no larger than her palm.
She caught it.
Silence returned.
The kill team lay unconscious or dead. The air buzzed faintly from static residue. Kade sat on the ground, breathing hard, blood leaking from his wound.
Marei crawled over, grabbing his arm.
"You're bleeding too much."
"It's not fatal."
"That's not the point."
She helped him to his feet. He leaned on her, wincing.
"What happened to the cube?" he asked.
"It evolved. Locked itself in a portable state. Autonomous failsafe, maybe. I don't know. But it's still functional."
Kade nodded slowly, dizzy. "We need out of here."
Marei tapped into the emergency skimmer beacon and sent a recall. It would take fifteen minutes to arrive, but the station was now burned—useless. They couldn't stay.
She looked at the sliver of data glowing in her hand.
"Whatever this thing is… it's reacting to me," she said.
Kade nodded once. "Because you're part of it."
They didn't speak again.
Outside, the horizon was beginning to redden with approaching stormlight—heat lightning flashing through darkening clouds. The kind of storm that Catalyst used to hide orbital drops. The kind that whispered you're out of time.
Marei looked up. Her eyes caught something—a brief shimmer in the clouds. A flash of something too uniform to be natural.
Catalyst wasn't done.
And neither were they.