Chapter 452: Victims or monsters.

The medical bay on the ship was dead silent, except for the quiet, rhythmic beeping of the medical machines that were coming to life after sensing patients in desperate condition.

Hunter and Zyra had just shoved Zena and Almeida into the sleek, high-tech medical pods. The glass doors slid shut with a soft hiss, "Now we wait." Hunter whispered

Above each pod, a digital red timer lit up: 02:00:00. Two full hours. They had to wait two whole hours to find out if the two people they cared about most were going to live or die.

Hunter stood frozen in front of his father’s pod, his eyes bright red like he was about to cry. He turned his head to the right, saw Zyra standing there with tear-stained cheeks, and stepped forward. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her shoulder.

Zyra hugged him back just as hard, clinging to his shirt like a lifeline. In that quiet room, surrounded by cold metal and glowing screens, all they had was each other.

"They’re gonna be fine," Hunter whispered into her hair. His arms squeezed her a little tighter. "My dad is tough. Aunt Zena is tough. They’ll pull through. They have to." Hunter thought that fate couldn’t be so cruel surely, to their parents away just like that. Especially in his case where he had just lost a mother and father a few months ago.

Zyra heard the slight quiver in his voice_ the tiny hint of fear he was trying so hard to hide. But she didn’t call him out on it. Right now, hope was the only thing keeping her knees from buckling.

"Yeah," Zyra sniffled, nodding against his chest. "They’ll be fine."

After a minute, Zyra gently wiggled out of Hunter’s tight embrace and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She started pacing back and forth across the polished floor, her boots clicking loudly.

"I don’t buy it," Zyra muttered, shaking her head violently. "I just don’t buy it!"

Hunter blinked, rubbing his red eyes. "Don’t buy what?"

"That doctor!" Zyra threw her hands up in the air. "Dr. Eugene! Acting like she was some helpless victim back there! Hunter, if someone forced me to hook living women up to machines, drain their blood, take their eggs and turn them into human dairy farms... I would rather kill myself! I would die before I became a monster like that."

Hunter winced, looking down at his boots. "Maybe... maybe Erik was blackmailing her? Like, threatening her family or something? No sane person would do this otherwise."

Zyra stopped pacing and let out a long, heavy sigh. She stared at the digital timer counting down on Almeida’s pod: 01:54:12. Time seemed to be moving more slowly than ever. "Maybe," she said softly. Then her eyes narrowed, hardened by a dark fire and hatred. "Or maybe she’s just a liar. I’m going to get to the bottom of this right now. I can’t stand here, looking at the countdown. I will go crazy."

Zyra straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. "Beauty, open a portal back to the Hollow Cradle. Now."

[Portal opening to the silo bay,] the system’s voice smoothy chimed.

A glowing ring of light tore open in the middle of the med-bay. Zyra stepped right back into the reeking, cold air of the underground silo, with Hunter right behind her.

"Keep the portal open Beauty, we need to get the maidens into the pods too." Zyra said as she walked.

[Yes host.]

The Grand Elder was standing near the portal, looking exhausted. The second he saw Zyra; he looked past her shoulder directly into the ship’s medical bay.

"How are they?" the old man asked, his voice thick with worry. "Almeida? Zena?"

Zyra shook her head sadly. "They’re still inside the medical pods. We have to wait two hours."

She turned her attention to the room. While she was gone, Bullet and the others had already got to work. They had carefully unhooked the stronger soul maidens from the ceiling clamps. The Soul maidens that had arrived in the last month were sitting on the floor, wrapped in thin sheets, trembling and crying softly. Those who had been in the Silo longer were mostly still unconscious.

Zyra blinked back fresh tears and went straight to work. "Come on," she said gently, helping a frail woman to her feet. "Let’s get you onto the ship. It’s safe there."

One by one, they helped the survivors cross through the portal. The soul maidens who were too weak to walk were carried straight to the free medical pods on the ship.

But not everyone made it.

Some of the unfortunate Soul maidens were so frail that the very second their breathing tubes were disconnected, their weak hearts gave out. They died right there on the cold steel floor. Zyra’s heart broke into a million pieces every time a life faded away. But Bullet and the team made sure to lift their lifeless bodies with absolute care and respect, carrying them through the portal to lay them gently on the ship’s floor. They wouldn’t leave anyone behind in this nightmare hole.

While the rescue was wrapping up, Dr. Eugene and her group of lab-coated scientists and engineers quietly shuffled toward the portal, trying to sneak away.

"Hey!" Zyra’s voice boomed across the silo, stopping them in their tracks. "Where do you think you’re going?"

Dr. Eugene turned around, holding her clipboard tightly against her chest like a shield. She looked confused. "We... we are going home. Now that you’ve cleared the facility, we are finally free."

Zyra let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh that echoed off the high ceiling. "Free? You think you just get to walk out of here? You’re not going anywhere until I find out the truth."

"What truth?!" Dr. Eugene squeaked, sweating profusely. "We are victims here, too! We were just following orders!"

"Are you?" Zyra glared at her. She raised her hand and summoned the Alfa warden.

The floor burst open with a deafening crash. A tree materialized out of thin air, its dark wooden trunk twisting up toward the ceiling. The doctors and engineers screamed, scrambling backward and falling over each other in absolute panic.

"Give them Oath Sap directly from the source," Zyra commanded coldly. She didn’t want the diluted stuff she had on hand.

Thick, snake-like roots whipped out from the tree. They coiled tightly around every single scientist and engineer, pinning their arms to their sides and holding them upright. From the main roots, tiny, thin tendrils emerged. They wriggled through the air like worms, forcing their way into the doctors’ open, screaming mouths and dripping the liquid down their throats.