The code pulsed slow and deep now, no longer twitching with reactive data bursts. It was stabilizing—accepting parameters, syncing inputs, spooling out requests from regional satellites like a thousand prayers suddenly knocking at a single temple door.
Lucas sat slouched in a chair near the terminal. They were back at the manior but he didn't get to rest. One eye barely open, the other squeezed shut like it might keep his skull from exploding.
Next to him, Ava hunched over a stack of feedback logs, her bracer casting sharp blue light on her face. The skin under her eyes looked paper-thin. Her fingers had gone from typing to twitching.
Across the room, Bai Senior stood straight as a blade, sleeves rolled up, coat discarded. His hands moved fluidly over the input panels, skimming lines of rewrite code like a man reading old sheet music he'd written years ago.
Lucas groaned. "Okay. That's enough."
Senior didn't look up. "You said you wanted to lead."
