The isolation bay was a wailing of failing alarms. Red warning lights bathed the room in a chaotic strobe. Iria lay unconscious on her dialysis bed, entirely oblivious to the blaring sirens. Xavier ignored her and walked straight to the bio-stasis tank.
Lyra floated in the amber gel. Her condition had degraded past the point of cellular repair. Black, necrotic veins spiderwebbed across her pale skin. Her Lykaios bloodline was actively tearing her DNA apart, rejecting whatever genetic tampering she had endured in her past.
The monitors beside the tank flashed critical organ failure. And medicine was a dead end.
Xavier opened his inventory.
The Demonic Core materialized in his palm. It was the size of a human heart, slick with dark violet energy and radiating pure malice. Then, he looked at the dying girl behind the glass.
He pulled his right arm back and drove his fist straight through the reinforced polymer of the tank.
