Chapter 70 #3
Owen closed the door and pointed to the clock on the wall before leaving him alone with the chimera.
Zion approached, and only then did he find the courage to look at the remaining wing.
It was ugly. The white feathers had been torn out in places, exposing lacerated flesh beneath.
Worse still, the wing started straight but twisted outward halfway down, clearly broken.
He slid his hand over the animal's mane, replaying all the happy moments they'd shared on the wall—how content Kiara had seemed when flying and racing with him.
“You were so brave,” he whispered to the creature who held such an enormous place in his heart. “So strong and dedicated. You saved our family when I couldn't.”
Zion gently stroked one of the chimera's claws, then slid his fingers over the blue scales, reaching the fur and massaging the area near her neck.
“We'll fix this. You'll be good as new.”
His heart ached just imagining the pain she'd felt. He knew it was bad, but he hadn't realized how severe the injuries were. He kissed the creature's snout and petted her a little more.
“You're going to get better soon, and before long we'll be home. Me, you, and Kyller, with a really big bowl of food.”
He wiped away his tears and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Finally, he kissed the chimera's forehead and called the doctor.
Δ
Kiara's surgery had been underway for only ten minutes when the phone vibrated in the general's pocket.
It was a message from Takeshi saying the analysis was complete.
Eyes still red and heart still heavy, Zion materialized at the entrance to the test control facility.
The place sat in the center of an open clearing atop a hill—six red containers arranged in two rows.
It was a strategic point, right next to the communication tower linking the walls and the test field.
As he walked, he couldn't help but notice that things were just as chaotic as when he'd left.
Several army trucks were stationed nearby, and doctors in white coats waited for more injured students to arrive at the infirmary.
Amid the bustle of soldiers and nurses moving through the camp, Zion spotted one of the humans from the Vinturian team.
“General?” The boy, dressed in Yamamoto company's blue coat, approached and bowed in greeting. “Mr. Takeshi is waiting for you in the last container.”
Zion followed the boy through the busy corridor of containers until they reached the last door. He waited for the young man to leave, then reached for the handle. Before he could touch it, the door swung open, and Takeshi's pale face appeared before him.
“Thank the gods you're here.” The man waved him inside urgently. “I was starting to feel sick.”
Zion entered the small improvised laboratory and noticed that, unlike the room where he'd watched the test, this one had only two tables: one holding a large, yellowed, boxy computer, and another covered with metal equipment he'd long ago dubbed “Kaori's instruments of death.” Once the door closed, the Vinturian handed him a black folder.
“The results are in there!”
Zion pulled out the papers and scanned them.
They were covered in codes and symbols he couldn't make heads or tails of.
He cursed Serguei for forcing him into nothing but military training as a child instead of letting him learn computer science with Akira.
He tossed the papers on the table, feeling about as smart as a primate.
“Translate this for me.” He gestured at the pages. “Preferably like you're explaining it to a child.”
Takeshi fidgeted anxiously and reached for the sheets, adjusting the blue glasses on his nose.
“The device you sent me has three parts.” He hurried to the far end of the room and picked up the pieces of the disassembled object.
“The first is a lirduino board.” He held up a small chip traced with green veins.
Then he pointed to the rounded plastic part, its interior packed with copper wires.
“This is the battery that powers the system.
Strange that it's made of anueto instead of sinil—anueto is unstable and can cause short circuits. And this…” Takeshi lifted a small black sphere, polished to a shine, about the size of a pea and connected to the chip and battery.
“I have no idea what this is. I've seen spheres like this used in bomb systems, but I'm not a military technology specialist. I'll need to send it to another team to find out—I don't have the necessary equipment.”
Zion examined all the tightly interlocking pieces. The design was simple, actually. Up close, it looked sloppy.
“You don't know what the sphere is, but do you have any idea what the battery-powered lirduino board is for?”
Takeshi plugged the small lirduino board into the computer's port, then began tapping away at the keyboard while images flashed across the screen in rapid succession.
When the text stabilized on the monitor and the keyboard fell silent, the specialist enlarged the display and pointed to the codes Zion couldn't understand, looking euphoric this time.
“This, General, is one of the simplest yet most incredible devices I've ever seen. Despite the outdated design and the use of recycled, unstable materials, these boards were coded in a low-level programming language—primitive compared to what we use in our systems.”
“And what makes it so special if it was written in an outdated language?”
“The creativity.” Takeshi smiled, amazed.
“Whoever made this had limited resources, yet still managed to manipulate an outdated language and adapt it to the available materials.
This confirms what I told you earlier. The code stored in this lirduino board has a single purpose: to emit energy waves that disable any technology within a hundred-meter radius.
It wasn't the creatures turning off the cameras—it was this device inside them.”
Zion stood frozen, staring at the man. Once again, the past flooded back—a memory of Kaori's smiling face as she showed him her new invention, Akira at her side.
“Were you able to identify who created this?” he asked as the shadows coiled around his shoulders, growing more restless.
Takeshi stepped back, knocking papers to the floor as he tried to distance himself from the general.
“I-I don't know, General.” When Zion just stared at him, waiting for a better answer, he took a deep breath and ventured a guess.
“Only a Yamamoto has the resources and knowledge to build something like this.
If Akira were alive, I'd say it was him—he was the best software engineer we had.
Other than him, I'd say it was one of the five Yamamoto siblings, or…” The specialist's eyes widened, disturbed and afraid of what he was about to say. “Kaori.”
Before the man finished speaking, Zion was already disappearing into the shadows, a knot tight in his throat.
Δ
I lost an arm.
That was the only thought in my mind when I woke to the sound of the vital signs monitor beeping in the room.
Lying in the hospital bed, I looked at the bandaged stump just below my shoulder.
Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes in silent grief as I realized I was about to graduate from medical school—and I'd lost an arm.
The situation was so inconceivable that I could barely move or tear my eyes from the bandages. It was as if this were some terrible nightmare or a horrific illusion. My heartbeat thrummed in my ears, racing in time with the monitor, while my stomach churned strangely.
Immediately, memories crashed over me like an avalanche, burying me in fear and despair.
I squeezed my eyes shut, reliving the nightmare that was actually a memory blocked from my subconscious.
The more I thought about Serguei's memory block, the more it made sense.
It had also blocked my second power somehow—a power that surfaced when I found the courage to face my fear.
I felt more tears streaming down and let them fall, helpless against the pain.
Questions circled my mind like a pack of hungry wolves, and I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into doubt.
Why hadn't Serguei told me the truth about Lagherta's death?
If he knew about the danger lurking in the drutes forest, why hadn't he warned us?
Between doubts and tears, my stomach churned again.
My mind was foggy, yet all my senses felt strange and hyperalert.
Everything was deeply wrong, especially my insignificant existence.
I figured it must be my body's reaction to the trauma I'd witnessed, or maybe an overload of the medications and anesthetics from surgery.
I sat up with difficulty and heard hurried footsteps outside, along with the murmur of anxious, frightened voices.
The noise intensified the strange sensation, and as soon as I heard footsteps in the corridor, I knew something was wrong in the hospital.
I heard a nurse screaming. That kind of rush and urgency only happened when a patient was dying—but who could be important enough to cause such chaos?
I feared it was one of my friends—they'd all been in the test. Breno had made it past the barrier, but how could I know if Hiro or Aish were okay and alive?
Anguish born of uncertainty pierced my chest. I knew I shouldn't try to get up, but the fear of losing someone I loved drove me out of bed.
I rose with difficulty, grabbing the cart with the equipment connected to my body.
The shock of having to use only one hand nearly made me falter, but I pressed on.
I pushed it toward the door and leaned on its frame like a walker.
I felt the cuts pull at my back and arm, but I moved slowly to avoid tearing them.
With difficulty, I braced myself against the wall and opened the door to the corridor.
The hallway was empty—only one last nurse was running toward the stairs.