Chapter 115: Spirit Bombs And Borrowed Time

The medical team wheeled Rina through the corridors.

Each level they descended felt like entering another circle of security hell. Steel doors grew thicker, requiring multiple biometric scans and authorization codes.

Warning runes carved into reinforced walls pulsed ominous amber, their ancient script seeming to writhe in Kane’s peripheral vision.

Staff members pressed themselves against walls as the medical gurney passed, their whispered conversations following in its wake.

"—spirit bomb in the building—"

"—evacuation protocols if—"

"—thirty floors of blast shielding—"

Kane’s fox ears twitched beneath his glamour, catching fragments of fearful speculation.

Rina’s condition deteriorated with each elevator descent. Her form flickered like a dying lightbulb—solid one moment, translucent the next, edges bleeding into the air around her.

The frost-webbing Isabelle had woven across her skin cracked further with each jolt of the gurney wheels.

Kane walked beside her, his hand hovering over hers, afraid to touch and risk disrupting whatever fragile stability remained.

"Hang on, Rina," he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, unfocused but aware. Her lips moved, forming words Kane couldn’t hear over the medical equipment’s constant beeping.

Cyrus strode ahead, his presence parting the medical staff like a crimson tide.

His shoulders were rigid with tension, authority radiating from him in waves that made even the senior physicians step back.

The final elevator required Cyrus’s palm print, retinal scan, and a spoken passphrase in what sounded like ancient draconic.

The doors opened to reveal the deep labs—a realm of blast-resistant chambers and experimental containment technology Kane had only heard rumors about.

The containment chamber stretched before them like a colosseum designed for apocalypse.

Massive circular walls rose thirty feet high, every surface etched with interlocking containment glyphs that pulsed electric blue.

The runes shifted and moved, responding to Rina’s chaotic energy signature as the medical team wheeled her into the center.

Kane gripped the observation deck railing, watching technicians activate the protective barriers. The air itself seemed to shimmer, layers of force fields creating a prismatic haze around the chamber walls.

Other observation decks ringed the perimeter at different levels, filled with a full emergency crew coordinated by Isabelle.

Their hushed voices carried across the space, discussing contingency protocols Kane didn’t want to contemplate.

"Beginning spirit essence infusion," Isabelle announced through the intercom.

Massive conduits descended from the ceiling like mechanical serpents, their crystalline cores glowing with concentrated spirit energy.

They positioned themselves around Rina’s prone form, humming with barely contained power.

The first pulse hit her body.

Rina’s back arched off the medical table, her form solidifying for a heartbeat before the energy dispersed through her fragmented essence. The chamber’s glyphs flared brighter, containing the overflow.

"Essence integration: twelve percent," a technician reported.

The second pulse struck. ℯℯ𝑙.

This time, violent cracks of silver energy erupted from Rina’s body, spider-webbing across the chamber floor.

Warning alarms shrieked as the protective barriers flickered under the assault.

"Her core’s rejecting the stabilization," Isabelle’s voice cut through the chaos. "The binding agent is interfering with essence absorption."

Kane watched helplessly as each pulse seemed to tear Rina further apart.

The frost-web shattered like breaking glass.

Rina’s body convulsed violently on the medical table, her spine bowing as raw spirit energy erupted from every pore.

The chamber filled with blinding silver light, the air itself crackling with unstable power.

The entire room vibrated—walls groaning, floor plates buckling under the assault of chaotic energy.

Emergency horns wailed as the containment glyphs blazed white-hot, straining against forces they were never meant to hold.

Kane slammed his hand against the observation deck glass.

"She’s going to explode!"

Cyrus moved behind him instantly, crimson dragon aura flaring to life around his shoulders.

His power coiled, ready to shield Kane, to protect him from the devastation about to tear through thirty floors of reinforced steel.

"All personnel, brace for—"

"Wait!" Isabelle’s voice cut through the panic. "Initiating micro-explosion protocol now!"

The medical team’s hands flew over their controls. The spirit essence conduits repositioned themselves, creating precise focal points around Rina’s convulsing form.

Instead of one catastrophic detonation, they triggered dozens of controlled micro-explosions—each burst channeling Rina’s chaotic energy into manageable fragments.

The chamber rattled with successive shockwaves.

Lights flickered like dying stars. The containment glyphs strained, their blue glow deepening to violent purple as they absorbed each controlled burst.

Observation deck windows cracked under the pressure waves.

But Rina remained on the table.

Her convulsions slowed. Her breathing steadied. The silver light dimmed to a faint shimmer beneath her skin.

She clung to consciousness, her eyes finding Kane through the chaos.

The alarms fell silent.

Emergency lighting cast everything in hellish red as the medical team rushed into the chamber. Their equipment beeped frantically around Rina’s motionless form.

Kane pressed harder against the cracked observation glass, desperate to see her breathing.

"Vitals are stabilizing," a technician called out. "Energy fluctuations decreasing to manageable levels."

Rina’s eyes opened.

"Kane?" Her voice reached him through the intercom, so weak he had to strain to hear it.

Relief flooded through him. She was alive.

Isabelle emerged from the chamber, her expression grim despite the successful containment.

She joined Kane and Cyrus at the observation deck, frost still clinging to her silver hair.

"The good news is we prevented total detonation," she began, her clinical tone betraying nothing.

"The bad news is more complicated."

Kane’s relief curdled in his stomach.

"The synthetic binding agent has fused with her spirit core. We can maintain her current state, but we cannot reverse the damage."

Borrowed time. That’s all they’d bought her.

Kane stared through the cracked observation glass at Rina’s fragile form below.

Despite everything—the chaos, the near-catastrophe, gratitude swelled in his chest.

"Without Veyr Corp’s containment systems, she’d be dead. Hell, half of Feilun would be gone."

Cyrus adjusted his cufflinks, his red-gold eyes scanning the damaged chamber.

"The response time was adequate, but the essence infusion protocols need refinement. The micro-explosion triggers should have activated three seconds earlier. And these observation barriers—" He gestured at the spider-webbed glass.

"Unacceptable structural failure under stress."

Kane turned to stare at him. Only Cyrus could witness a miracle of spirit engineering and immediately draft an improvement memo.

"So we need to find a cure before her time runs out?" Kane’s voice carried the weight of urgency.

Isabelle nodded, her expression grave.

"We have perhaps two weeks before the fragmentation becomes permanent. After that, no technology in existence could save her."