Chapter 65: Where Is My Husband

Mazecrest City was entirely different from the rest of the world. It existed in two halves: a sprawling subterranean metropolis built beneath the ocean floor, and a cluster of gleaming metallic sectors floating directly above Ocean B—one of the most heavily fortified bodies of water on Earth following the rise of the astral creatures.

High above the waters, reality tore open. A brilliant, jagged breach flared across the clouds as a massive warship began to push through the wound.

The vessel was staggering in scale, as large as an entire district. Multi-layered defense turrets bristled along its hull, anchored by three colossal plasma boosters humming at its stern. Stenciled in gold along the ship’s armored flank was the seal of the Sloane family.

On the bridge, Lenora turned away. The woman who had opened the tear—her mother—didn’t even glance back as her figure dissolved into thin air, vanishing completely from the ship.

Lenora stared at the empty spot, then looked up as the rift in space smoothly sealed itself shut.

So this is what a Rank 5 contractor is capable of, she thought, her fingers curling into a tight fist. Soon, I will reach Rank 5 myself. Once I close the Azure Breach and claim its key, I will finally have the power to break free from the Sloane family’s grip.

As the warship descended to hover over the floating city, Lenora stepped forward and took command of the bridge, sliding into the captain’s chair with a small, cold smile. Soon, no one would be able to stand in her path.

---

The memory shattered.

Preston’s sudden step backward tore Lenora from the haze of the past, yanking her back into the sterile white glare of the hospital room.

Preston paced slowly around the foot of her bed. "Well, Doctor... when she was brought here three years ago, you told us there was an unidentified poison in her system. You said she had one year left to live, and that the tether to her Astral Being was completely severed, even if her body retained its Saint-rank properties. But look at her now."

He let out a dark, amused smile.

"Now she’s even more broken. And that one-year deadline turned into three. So, Doctor... what do we do now?"

The doctor let out a heavy sigh, adjusting his glasses. "The poison in her body has been dormant, which is the only reason she survived these past three years, sir. But now... I don’t know. Based on our latest readings, her system is failing. She has one month left at best."

Preston went quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning Lenora’s hollow face before he let out a short sigh.

"Well. Good. Find her husband so they can spend her final moments together. The Sloane family wants nothing more to do with her."

Without another word, Preston turned on his heel and walked out.

Lenora watched his retreating back. Deep within her chest, whatever fragile thread had been holding her together snapped, shattering like glass into absolute nothingness. She wasn’t even sure what was real anymore.

Miss Baker quietly dismissed the attending physician, and the three women dressed in black followed him out into the corridor, leaving the room in heavy silence.

Lenora slowly turned her head toward her maid. Her voice came out dry, hoarse, and entirely devoid of emotion:

"Miss Baker... where is my husband?"

---

Meanwhile, high above the smoldering ruins of District 12, an emergency bay door slammed open aboard the medical vessel.

"Sir, this patient is critical!" an orderly shouted, pushing the floating gurney down the sterile corridor at a sprint. "Severe light-fire burns across eighty percent of his body, right eye completely necrotic, and massive internal hemorrhaging! He needs immediate attention!"

Monitors flared to life, their rhythmic beep... beep... beep... filling the operating room.

It was the year 2099. In a world shaped by high-tier Astral contracts and advanced cellular regeneration, routine healing had become trivial. But injuries inflicted by an Indigo-class calamity were a terrifying exception. The residual energy left behind by a Titan’s light-fire resisted standard restoration, turning every procedure into a delicate war. It was difficult, but not impossible.

"Prep the purge sequence," the lead surgeon commanded, snapping on blue bio-isolation gloves. "Before we can trigger his natural cellular cycle, every piece of foreign mass and corrupted tissue has to come out. Clean the surface."

For the next three hours, the medical team worked in tense, meticulous silence. Scalpels and high-frequency light-blades sheared away scorched, dead skin and blackened tissue down to the raw muscle. Orson drifted in and out of consciousness, losing blood faster than the synthesizers could pump it back into his veins.

The heavy sedative cocktails flooding his bloodstream robbed him of control over his own body. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t speak. He could only float through a chaotic, feverish haze of shattered memories.

And through all the static in his mind, only one vision kept resurfacing—the suffocating, blinding light of their battle against the Saint.

---

After bypassing the checkpoint officers, the entrance to the breach parted before them.

The perimeter was packed with guilds and independent Awakened, the heavy clatter of armor and weapon-checks filling the air as contractors prepared to cross the threshold. Orson took a quiet breath, his mind briefly flashing back to the raw Burden attached to the weapon Robin had handed him. He sighed to himself—so long as he refrained from activating its power, he would be fine.

He reached the front of the line. Standing right beside him was a tall, heavily muscled man who was patiently waiting for his turn to step through. He flashed a quick, easy smile into the crowd. Orson caught the man’s eye; there was something vaguely familiar about him, though Orson couldn’t quite place where he had seen that face before.

The tall man stepped forward to enter. As Orson followed behind him, a sleek translucent display materialized in his vision:

Hello, uncontracted human. Welcome to the Eternal Breach of the Golden Sun Realm.

Orson looked down at the prompt, but before he could dismiss it, the muscled man turned back to face him.

"Weird," the man said, his voice vibrantly loud despite his clear attempt to sound subtle. "Are you really uncontracted? I can’t sense a single speck of energy coming off you."

Orson narrowed his eyes at him, his tone sharp. "What is it to you?"

The man’s smile widened. He unclipped his heavy travelling cloak, letting it slide off his shoulders to reveal the polished insignia underneath.

"Well, I work for the government, you see," the man said smoothly, his eyes locking onto Orson. "And you’re currently breaking the first law of breaches: uncontracted personnel are strictly forbidden from entering any active breach zone."