The crack was a whisper, a sound as faint and sharp as a breaking heart. It spread across the surface of the pulsating green cocoon, a spiderweb of fractures in the crystalline prison. The low, humming thrum of the machinery in AuraGen Labs intensified, the lights flickering as the massive loom of light and shadow poured all of its energy into the final, agonizing moments of creation. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of ozone and a strange, cloying sweetness that was the smell of a god being born.
They were out of time.
The femboy ninja, who had been a silent, deadly statue before the cocoon, finally moved. He didn't turn to face them. He simply raised one of his twin katanas, its razor-sharp edge glinting in the cold, clinical light, and pointed it at the party. It was a silent, unmistakable challenge.
