Chapter 78: The Glass Garden

"Holy shit..." Tira breathed.

​She stood with her hacker tablet lowered, staring upward in fascination.

​We were in a massive atrium beneath a transparent dome. Light filtered through the armored glass—a bluish, pure, filtered spectrum of a real star. A park surrounded us. Trees with glossy leaves, neatly manicured hedges, and white stone paths where water trickled quietly along artificial streams.

​The "Glass Garden." A district for the elite.

​I took a step, and my heavy boots, caked in mud and blood, left a black streak on the tile.

​"They live here?" Tira’s voice trembled. "While we're down there, filtering our own urine just to keep from dying of thirst, they’re up here..."

​She walked up to the nearest bush, plucked a leaf, and crushed it in her fist.

​"Maintaining this garden takes more energy than the entire residential sector of the Hive."

​Ephraim spat on the tile.

​"It's a terrarium. And don't let the silence fool you."

​The silence really was oppressive. No hum of ventilation, no shouts of merchants, no sirens. Only the rustle of leaves.

​“Optimal environmental conditions. Threat level: 0%. Standby mode recommended,” a voice whispered in my head.

​I shook my head, trying to banish the hallucination.

​"Welcome," a voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once.

​We instantly formed a circle, back to back. Zeno snapped his weapon up, sweeping the barrel from side to side, but there was nothing to aim at.

​"You arrived faster than I expected. Commendable. Especially you, Iron. Your adaptation rate to the new hardware... are impressive."

​"Show yourself, coward!" I shouted.

​"Why all the shouting? We are civilized people, after all," Valerius continued. "Look around you. Isn't it beautiful? This is what we strive for. Order. Harmony. Purity."

​Suddenly, on one of the holographic panels disguised as a tree trunk, Tira's face appeared. Her dossier, charts, neural activity diagrams.

​"Tira... A brilliant child born in the dirt. Your talent is being wasted. Here, at the Academy, you could have your own lab. Access to technology. You could be creating worlds, not destroying them."

​The image shifted. Now it was Ephraim. Younger.

​"And you, old friend... You are tired. I can see it in your vitals. Your lungs are choked with dust, your heart is working at its absolute limit. We have medical pods, Ephraim. Just one procedure, and you'll forget all about the pain. You could live out your days in peace, looking at real stars."

​"Shove your offers up your ass," Ephraim rasped, but I saw his hands shaking.

​"Iron..." the voice grew softer. "I won't offer you anything. You already know the truth. Look at your companions. Look closely."

​[TACTICAL TARGET ANALYSIS]

Zeno (Yellow marker): Outdated model. Critical damage. Combat efficiency: 12%.

Ephraim (Red marker): Biological entity. Status: exhaustion. Mission impediment.

Tira (Red marker): Civilian. High margin of error. Ballast.

​"They are dragging you down," Valerius whispered. "Your potential is limitless, yet you waste energy protecting the weak. Your left arm is dying because your body clings to a humanity you no longer need. Cast them aside. Come to me alone. And you will become perfection."

​"No..." I gritted my teeth. "They’re my family."

​"Family is a weakness," Valerius cut him off.

​Praetorians, phase one.

​The lighting in the atrium flickered and shifted to red. From behind trees, from alcoves in the walls, straight out of the ground, figures began to emerge. Standing a good two meters tall, they were encased in matte-white armor that mirrored human muscle anatomy. They had no faces—only smooth, mirrored visors.

​"Zeno, fire!" Ephraim commanded.

​He opened fire, but the bullets simply ricocheted off the armor, showering sparks.

​One of them was on me instantly. A brutal kick to the chest launched me backward, shattering a marble bench to splinters. Pain shot through my ribs, but vanished just as quickly.

​The world around me slowed down.

​[THREAT: HIGH. RESOLUTION: ELIMINATE]

​I vaulted up, intercepting a blade the Praetorian was driving at my neck; the metal scraped across my steel palm. I clenched my fingers. The blade's titanium alloy snapped. A sharp yank, and I buried my fist into the center of his faceless mask.

​He collapsed.

​But there were still five left.

​Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ephraim pinned to the ground. Zeno lost an arm, and Tira was backing away, firing her shocker to no avail.

​[ALLY DEFENSE INEFFECTIVE]

Priority: Self-preservation. Eliminate targets.

​I tore away chunks of armor, snapped artificial bones, and used one cyborg's severed arm as a club to cave in the skull of another.

​The last Praetorian tried to flank me. I spun on my heels, calculating the trajectory of a backhand strike. My fist hurtled dead on target.

​And at the last second, a fraction of a moment before impact, the system highlighted a target.

​[OBJECT: TIRA. STATUS: INTERFERENCE]

Recommendation: Ignore/Eliminate.

​Tira.

​She had lunged right into the line of fire, trying to hurl an EMP grenade.

​My fist froze a millimeter from her face. The shockwave from the aborted blow blew her hair back. She squeezed her eyes shut.

​I stood there, breathing heavily. My arm was shaking violently.

​"Iron?" Tira opened her eyes.

​I slowly lowered my arm. The LEDs on my shoulder shifted from combat red to neutral blue.

​"I..." my voice wouldn't cooperate. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

​Debris from the armor littered the ground. The garden was utterly ruined. The trees splintered.

​Ephraim walked up to me slowly.

​"You're becoming exactly what he wants you to be, kid," the old man said quietly. "You get that?"

​"I get it," I replied hollowly. "But I can't stop. If I shut this down... we all die here."

​"We need to hurry," Tira said, getting up and dusting herself off.

​We moved forward through the ruined garden.

​At the end of the promenade loomed massive double doors of black obsidian. As we drew near, the heavy panels slid silently apart.

​Beyond lay the command center. "The Source." The walls were entirely transparent, offering a panoramic view of deep space. Billions of stars stared back at us. In the center of the room, a man in a white coat stood with his back to us, studying a massive hologram of Earth.

​"You're late for dinner," Valerius said without turning around. His voice was calm, almost tinged with sadness. "But you're just in time to see the end of the old world."

​We took a step forward, crossing the threshold.

​The doors slammed shut behind our backs with a dull thud.