Chapter 579: Void stone

While the joy of Christmas spread out through the city, not everyone could enjoy it.

Kelvin sat in a hospital room.

The chair was uncomfortable. Plastic, institutional, designed for temporary use rather than the extended sessions he’d been subjecting it to. His back ached from hours of sitting in the same position, but he didn’t move. Didn’t shift. Just maintained his vigil beside Diana’s bed.

She looked peaceful. That was the worst part. The life support equipment hummed quietly, beast core technology keeping her body stable while her fractured skull continued its impossibly slow healing process. Her chest rose and fell with artificial regularity. Monitors displayed vital signs that remained frustratingly consistent—not improving, not declining, just existing in this suspended state between life and death.

Kelvin held a Rubik’s cube in his lap. Not a standard one—this was something he’d built himself during one of his workshop sessions. Seven layers instead of three, each face containing different geometric patterns that required solving simultaneously. An impossible puzzle for most people. For him, it was just something to occupy his hands while his mind worked through bigger problems.

His eyes began glowing green. Soft at first, then brighter, the telltale sign of his technopathy activating. His hands followed, green light emanating from his palms, his fingers, wrapping around the cube’s surface.

The puzzle began solving itself. Pieces rotated without physical contact, responding to his mental commands. Click, click, click. Sections aligned, patterns formed, chaos resolved into order. The whole thing took maybe thirty seconds before every face showed perfect geometric harmony.

Then Kelvin scrambled it again. Let the cube fall back into disorder. Started solving it once more, his glowing eyes tracking movements his hands weren’t making.

This was his routine. Solve, scramble, solve again. Over and over. Something to do while he sat here talking to someone who couldn’t respond.

"So I’ve been thinking about the energy distribution problem," Kelvin said, his voice quiet in the sterile room. "The new suit design needs better heat dissipation. KROME’s reactor would overheat during sustained combat, which limited deployment time. But if I reconfigure the cooling channels, route them through the shoulder assemblies instead of the back plating..."

He continued explaining technical details to Diana’s unresponsive form, walking through schematics that existed only in his mind. The healers said she might be able to hear him on some level. Brain activity suggested awareness, even if she couldn’t demonstrate it physically.

Kelvin chose to believe that. Had to believe that. Because the alternative—that he was just talking to himself in a hospital room while the woman he cared about existed in some unreachable space between consciousness and oblivion—was too horrifying to accept.

The cube solved itself again. Scrambled. Began solving.

"Merry Christmas, Kelvin."

The voice from the doorway made him flinch. His technopathy cut off immediately, the green glow fading from his eyes and hands. The Rubik’s cube froze mid-rotation, half-solved, suspended in his grip.

Cora stood in the doorway, wearing casual clothes that had clearly been chosen with care. Dark jeans, a nice sweater, boots that weren’t quite formal but definitely nicer than everyday wear. Her hair was down, longer now ever since the last time she came in contract with Harbingers. It was styled in ways Kelvin remembered from their academy days except then it was shorter. She held a small wrapped gift in both hands.

"Hey," Kelvin said, his voice coming out rougher than intended. "Didn’t know you were visiting."

"Well, it’s Christmas." Cora stepped into the room, her eyes flicking to Diana’s bed before returning to Kelvin. "Thought I’d stop by. See how you’re holding up."

"I’m fine."

"Kelvin, you look terrible." She moved closer, concern evident on her face. "When’s the last time you slept properly? Actually slept, not just passed out in your workshop?"

"I sleep enough."

"That’s not what I asked." Cora set the wrapped gift on the small table beside Diana’s bed. "Look, I know this is hard. I know what she means to you. But you can’t just sit here forever. You’re going to burn yourself out."

Kelvin’s jaw tightened. The cube in his hands remained frozen, half-completed patterns visible on its surface.

"There’s a party happening at the academy," Cora continued, her tone deliberately light. "Some of the old crowd will be there. People who remember you, who’d love to see you. Albert said he’s got this whole thing planned—food, music, actual fun. You could come with me. Just for a few hours. Get out of this room, clear your head."

"I’m good here."

"Kelvin—"

"I said I’m good here, Cora." His voice carried an edge now, something sharp underneath the exhaustion. "Thanks for the offer. Really. But I don’t need to go party right now."

Cora pulled up another chair, sitting down beside him despite the clear dismissal. "It’s not about need. It’s about giving yourself a break. You’ve been coming here every single day since they moved her. Spending twelve, fourteen hours at a time just sitting beside her bed. That’s not healthy."

"What’s not healthy is how nobody seems to understand what we’re actually dealing with." Kelvin’s grip on the cube tightened. "You weren’t there, Cora. When Kruel attacked. When everything went to hell."

"I know, but—"

"No, you don’t know." His voice was rising now, control slipping. "You didn’t see what that thing did. Didn’t watch it tear through our defenses like they were made of foil paper. Didn’t see Diana throw herself in front of a blow that would have killed me, didn’t watch her skull fracture in seventeen places because she chose to save my useless life instead of protecting herself."

The cube’s pieces began rotating again, faster now, responding to his agitation. Green light flickered around his hands, his technopathy activating without conscious direction.

"Kelvin, please—" Cora reached out, trying to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"And now everyone’s just moving on!" Kelvin jerked away from her touch, standing abruptly. The chair scraped against the floor, the sound harsh in the quiet room. "Like it didn’t happen. Like we didn’t lose three million people. Like there isn’t a four-horn Harbinger out there who could come back any second and finish what he started."

"People are trying to heal," Cora said, her voice gentle. "That’s not the same as forgetting."

"Healing?" Kelvin’s laugh came out broken, bitter. "You want to talk about healing? The academy’s throwing parties. The city’s celebrating Christmas like everything’s fine. Meanwhile, Diana’s lying there—" he gestured at the bed, "—trapped in her own body because I wasn’t strong enough. Because my plan failed by one point five seconds. One point five fucking seconds, Cora!"

The Rubik’s cube exploded in his hands. Not literally, but the pieces scattered across the room, propelled by his technopathy spiraling out of control. They clattered against walls, bounced off equipment, one piece hitting the window with enough force to leave a small crack.

"I’ve been running the calculations over and over," Kelvin continued, his voice breaking now. "Trying to figure out what I missed, where my analysis went wrong. And you know what I keep coming back to? I was right. The plan was perfect. The timing was exact. Kruel just didn’t care. He adapted faster than anything I’d ever seen, caught Lucas’s lightning like it was nothing, and then he broke the woman I love because I put her in a position where she had to choose between her life and mine."

Tears were streaming down his face now, his prosthetic fingers flexing and clenching with the same irregular rhythm as agitated feet.

"So no, Cora, I don’t want to go to your academy party. I don’t want to pretend everything’s fine. I don’t want to spend Christmas celebrating when the only reason I’m still breathing is because Diana’s trapped in there—" he pointed at her again, "—paying the price for my survival."

Cora stood, moving toward him with arms outstretched. "Kelvin, come here—"

"Don’t!" He stepped back, putting distance between them. "Don’t hug me. Don’t comfort me. Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay. Just go back to your academy friends. Go have fun at your party. Drink, dance, whatever. Live your life."

"I’m trying to help you," Cora said, hurt evident in her voice.

"I don’t need help. I need—" Kelvin’s voice cracked completely. "I need her to wake up. I need to undo what happened. I need to go back and make different choices. But since I can’t do any of that, I’m going to stay here where it actually matters. Where the consequences of my failures are visible instead of being something I can ignore by going to parties."

Cora stood there for several seconds, her expression cycling through hurt, frustration, and finally resignation. "Okay. I’ll go."

She walked to the door, paused with her hand on the frame. "Merry Christmas, Kelvin. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for."

Then she was gone, footsteps receding down the hospital corridor.

Kelvin stood in the center of the room, breathing hard, his heart hammering. The scattered pieces of his Rubik’s cube lay where they’d fallen, nothing but chaos replacing the order he’d been creating. He turned toward the window, watched Cora emerge from the hospital entrance four stories below.

Snow was falling heavier now, accumulating on the streets, on damaged buildings, on the memorial sites that dotted the city. Cora walked through it with her hands shoved in her pockets, her shoulders hunched against the cold. She didn’t look back.

Kelvin watched until she disappeared around a corner. Then he turned back to face Diana’s bed.

"I’ve been here twelve hours," he said quietly, talking to her like she could respond. "Since last night. That’s probably too long, right? The healers keep suggesting I should take breaks. Get proper sleep. Maintain my own health." He moved closer, his hand finding hers. "But I can’t leave you alone. Not when you saved me. Not when this is my fault."

The monitors continued their steady beeping. Diana’s chest rose and fell. No change. No response.

"I’m going back to the workshop now," Kelvin continued, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. "Need to work on the new suit design. But I’ve been thinking about something else too. Something I should have focused on from the beginning."

He leaned down, his lips pressing against her hand, holding there for several seconds.

"To help you heal properly, to fix what Kruel did to you, I need to find what I’ve been searching for since my first day at the academy." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "A void stone. The real thing, not some fragment or synthetic substitute. If I can harness that kind of power, channel it properly, maybe I can undo this. Maybe I can bring you back."

He straightened, releasing her hand gently. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Diana. Same time. I promise."

Kelvin walked out of the room without looking back, his footsteps echoing in the sterile hospital corridor as he headed toward the exit.

---

Meanwhile, at Eclipse headquarters, the celebration continued in full swing.

The common area had transformed into something that actually resembled the Christmas parties from history vids. People were dancing, laughing, sharing food and stories. Someone had rigged up a karaoke system, and currently a group of logistics team members were massacring a holiday song while everyone else cheered them on.

Noah stood near the refreshment table with Sophie and Lila, all three of them having changed out of their tactical gear into more casual clothes. Seraleth had finally removed her Santa costume, though she’d kept the hat, which somehow made her look even more pleased with herself.

"I think this is the most relaxed I’ve seen everyone since before the attack," Sophie said, watching a group of recruits attempt some kind of coordinated dance routine. "Sera, you really pulled this off."

"Holidays are important," Seraleth replied, her eyes tracking the crowd with satisfaction. "Humans need moments of joy to balance the hardship. It’s therapeutic."

"Plus the gifts were amazing," Lila added, examining the bikini set Seraleth had given her. "How did you even afford all this? We’re talking thousands of individual presents."

"Careful budgeting and some favors called in from contacts across the quadrant." Seraleth’s smile widened. "Though I may have spent my entire personal savings. Worth it."

Noah was about to respond when alarms started blaring.

Everyone froze. The music cut off mid-note. Conversations died instantly. The familiar klaxon that meant emergency protocols had been triggered echoed through the building.

"That’s our alarm," someone said unnecessarily.

Sam’s voice came through the speaker system moments later, apologetic but urgent. "Sorry to interrupt the celebration, everyone. But we’ve got a situation developing. Multiple reports coming in about a beast surge heading toward the outer perimeter. Looks like a horde. All factions in the quadrant are mobilizing, and we need to deploy immediately."

The common area erupted into chaos. People running toward their quarters to gear up, team leaders shouting orders, the smooth transition from celebration to combat readiness that came from time spent training.

"This isn’t a contract," Sam continued over the speakers. "No payment coming. But if we don’t help stop this surge, there’s a real possibility it reaches the inner city. Our headquarters included. All combat-ready personnel, suit up and report to deployment stations."

Sophie was already moving, heading toward the command center at a sprint. "I’ll coordinate deployments and team assignments. Noah, Sera, Lila—get to the armory."

Noah, Seraleth, and Lila ran toward the equipment room, pulling on their Eclipse beast gear with speed.

They emerged onto the landing pad minutes later to find multiple Eclipse ships already powering up. Transport vessels that could carry many people at a time, their engines humming, their weapons systems coming online.

Noah didn’t bother with a ship. He activated his void striders and launched himself into the air. Seraleth and Lila followed in one of the transports, the ship lifting off smoothly.

The flight toward the outer perimeter took less than ten minutes. Noah could see the city passing beneath him, the Christmas decorations and celebrations giving way to damaged sectors, construction zones, the visible scars from Kruel’s attack still evident despite weeks of repair efforts.

Then he saw what they were dealing with.

The outer perimeter marked where the city’s defensive installations began—walls, automated turret systems, monitoring stations. Beyond that lay settlements, forests and wilderness that eventually gave way to untamed territory where beasts roamed freely.

And currently, that wilderness was moving.

A horde. Hundreds of creatures, maybe thousands, flowing toward the city like a living wave.

The transport descended, touching down on one of the defensive walls. Seraleth and Lila disembarked quickly, joined by other Eclipse personnel spilling out of ships that were landing in sequence along the fortifications.

Other factions were already present. Noah recognized insignias from at least four different groups, all of them taking defensive positions, setting up firing lines, preparing for what looked like a standard beast surge response.

But as Noah’s eyes focused on the approaching horde, something felt wrong.

"What the hell are we looking at?" Lila asked, staring at the mass of creatures advancing toward their position.

Noah’s eyes narrowed as he studied the horde more carefully.

It indeed was a horde.

But a very strange horde.