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Chapter 16 - CHAPTER 15: RUST AND REGRET

The address OmniGen had given led them somewhere that didn't officially exist. The Undercroft—a vast, buried cavity beneath Grimecity's industrial heart—was where the city's dead machines came to rot. The air hung heavy with the scent of iron oxide, ozone, and, disturbingly, a faint sweetness—flowers blooming where nothing living should.

Silas's operation sat in the middle of this metal necropolis, a cleared circle surrounded by decay. A portable Aethelburg containment field buzzed, enclosing a bubble of clean air amid corrosion. Inside it, a girl—no older than twelve—crouched with her hands over her ears. They'd later learn her name: Elara. From the spots where her fingertips touched the rusted floor, delicate white flowers with silver veins pushed through the decay, trembling like they were afraid to exist.

Silas stood outside the field, datapad in hand. He looked older, the sharpness in his face dulled by exhaustion. Two Aethelburg guards flanked him in their dull, light-enforcement armor.

> "The subject exhibits spontaneous floral transmutation of ferrous oxides," he dictated flatly. "Emotional state appears to be the catalyst. Fear accelerates the process."

"Subject?" Nana's voice cut through the hum like a lash. "She's a child, Silas."

He didn't flinch. Lowering the datapad, he met Kurok's stare with eyes hollowed by resignation.

> "I told you we'd have to be pragmatic."

Kael's gaze was pure frost.

> "This is your redemption? Terrorizing a girl to prove you can still obey?"

"It's a controlled environment," Silas said evenly. "She isn't harmed. Look—this phenomenon is… beautiful. But uncontrolled, it could destabilize the city's foundations. We're studying it to understand it. To manage it."

Kurok's voice dropped to a growl.

> "You're studying her because you're too scared to come for me."

The hunger in his tone wasn't wild anymore—it was cold, focused. His eyes weren't on Silas but on the containment field, its glow reflecting off his skin like something edible.

> "The directive was clear," Silas replied tightly. "A simple, contained success."

One of the guards took a step toward the girl, eager to "increase the stimulus."

That was the trigger.

Nana moved first—a silver blur. Her tendrils whipped out, wrapping the guard's weapon arm and twisting. The crack of armor breaking echoed through the cavern. The man's cry was short and sharp; his rifle clattered to the floor.

The second guard fired, a blue stun-blast streaking across the rust. Kael reacted instantly, shoving a rusted engine block into its path. The impact hissed, the charge dying against the metal's corpse.

But Kurok didn't go for the guards. He walked straight to the containment field.

> "Kurok, don't!" Silas barked. "It'll neutralize your viral energy!"

Kurok pressed his hand to the shimmering surface. It bit back, vibrating violently. A wave of nausea hit him; his glow flickered.

Inside, Elara looked up, terrified. From her fear, roses erupted, their thorns scraping the inner shell of the barrier.

He met her eyes. Winked.

Then he remembered something ridiculous—the fondue, the idea of resistance, the texture of meringue: stiff, structured, sweet.

The hum of the field shifted, its blue glow paling to a creamy white. Under his hand, the surface softened, turned porous, fragile. He pushed.

The containment field shattered—not with a bang, but a collapse. It crumbled inward into fine white dust, falling over Elara and the rusted ground like sugar snow. The air filled with the faint scent of vanilla.

Silas stared, datapad slack in his hand.

> "Impossible…"

Elara gazed at the powder on her palms, then touched one of her flowers. It stayed solid. Real.

Kurok stood amid the falling sweetness, his power altered—not drained, but transmuted. He offered his hand.

> "Party's over here. That side looks boring."

The injured guard backed away. Silas didn't move. Just watched as Elara took Kurok's hand and stepped out of her steel cage.

Kael's voice was ice.

> "You've created something far more dangerous than you realize, Silas. You've shown him he doesn't just destroy. He can create."

Nana guided Elara behind her.

> "The demonstration's over. You failed. Again."

They turned to leave. Kurok looked back one last time at Silas, standing amid the ruins of his own ambition.

> "You were right about one thing," Kurok said. "It is beautiful."

They left him there, the scent of flowers and failure lingering in the stale air.

What OmniGen had called a simple, contained success had become another catastrophic triumph—and Kurok had discovered a new flavor: liberation, sweet and fleeting as meringue.

From the shadows of a broken crane, a crab-like data-miner skittered away, its optic whirring. The party, as Julian Cross had promised, was just beginning. And OmniGen had just claimed front-row seats to the apocalypse.

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