Noah had already seen this idea die once.
Not in a laboratory.
In a paper.
Back when he had still been searching for a way to save his father, he had read a treatment proposal that regularly resurfaced in the margins of post-Radiation medical research.
An improved form of radiotherapy.
Not simple targeted irradiation.
A massive, precise, brutal destruction of tumors and metastases.
A method designed to eliminate every cancerous tissue before the disease could reorganize itself.
On paper, the idea was elegant.
Inside a human body, it became almost suicidal.
Noah reread his old notebooks, eyes dry, fingers motionless on the pages.
‘Dad’s problem wasn’t only the cancer.’
It was the stage.
The aggression.
The speed.
The cancer had not advanced like an illness.
It had advanced like an invasion.
Destroying that much tissue at once risked killing the patient more surely than the tumor itself.
And even if the body survived by some miracle, nothing guaranteed the abnormal cells would not return along with the regeneration.
Death by treatment or death by relapse.
The professor behind the paper had proposed cooperation with healing Ascendants to support the recovery phase.
Too expensive.
Too unstable.
Too dependent on the individual talent of the healers.
The theory was abandoned.
Noah turned a page.
His own notes appeared.
More nervous handwriting.
Tighter.
‘I had thought of a solution.’
Not a miraculous cure.
A serum.
Something capable of accelerating cellular regeneration without collapsing the immune defenses or encouraging the formation of new tumors.
A compound that would push the body to repair itself without allowing it to proliferate at random.
A thin line, almost impossible.
His gaze slid toward the plants placed near the window.
Since the Grand Radiation, some plants had mutated in grotesque ways.
Aggressive growth.
Predatory roots.
Carnivorous leaves.
Plant tissues saturated with Astra to the point of becoming dangerous.
But other mutations were more subtle.
More controlled.
More useful.
Comfrey.
Tiger grass.
Centella asiatica.
Two plants long known for their regenerative properties.
After a light mutation, their chemical structures had changed.
Not enough to make them monstrous.
Enough to alter their active compounds.
Farmers often threw them away.
Too strange in appearance.
Roots too thick.
Leaves veined with blue.
Mineral smell.
Noah, however, had seen a lead.
In mutated comfrey, he had identified something.
A molecule derived from allantoin.
Or rather, a transformed version.
Reinforced.
Unstable.
He had named it regetoin.
The name was ugly.
The molecule was magnificent.
‘The problem was never its existence.’
Noah picked up a dried leaf of mutated comfrey with tweezers.
‘The problem was isolation.’
No available molecular sieve could extract it without destroying part of the compound.
Classical methods altered regetoin.
Too much heat, and it degraded.
Too much pressure, and it bound to other residues.
Too many solvents, and it lost its active structure.
But Noah was no longer limited to classical methods.
He raised his hand.
Beneath his skin, the Decomposition Node responded.
Cold.
Silent.
Attentive.
‘Molecular decomposition.’
Crude Decomposition destroyed matter.
But modulated, slowed, adjusted to a finer scale, maybe it could do something else.
Separate.
Prune.
Remove useless compounds without touching the desired core.
A super molecular sieve.
Noah placed the sample in a dish.
“Easier to think than to do.”
He closed his eyes.
Astra descended into his arm.
This time, he did not let it flow freely.
He mentally pinched it, like pressurized current passing through a channel too narrow for it.
Pain immediately appeared behind his left eye.
Thin.
He touched the dish.
The first attempt blackened the entire plant.
Failure.
The second produced only an unusable green sludge.
Failure.
The third preserved the plant structure, but destroyed the target molecule.
Failure.
Noah recorded everything.
Intensity.
Frequency.
Duration.
Contact surface.
Visible reaction.
Smell.
Color.
Residue.
With each attempt, the Node vibrated a little harder inside his skull.
His fingers lost warmth.
A dry fatigue settled into his muscles.
He continued.
Because a measured failure was not a failure.
It was a coordinate.
…
While Noah sank deeper into his experiments, a new van stopped near the Hole.
Black.
Armored.
Marked with the Stormshield logo.
Harry, leaning against the HMA van, raised his eyes.
Son straightened beside him.
“Looks like Stormshield is here.”
Harry narrowed his eyes.
“Unit 1.”
Four men stepped out of the vehicle in tactical combat gear.
The first was massive.
Broad shoulders.
Thick neck.
Black gauntlets fixed to his forearms.
Even without activation, the equipment looked as if it could stop a car launched at full speed.
Son followed his gaze.
“Will that be enough ?”
“Barely.”
Harry crushed his cigarette under his boot.
“The big guy with the gauntlets is Dave.
Captain of Unit 1.
Seven Nodes.”
Son exhaled slowly.
“I see.”
Then Dave moved aside and held the door open.
Another man stepped out.
Short brown hair.
A neatly trimmed chinstrap beard.
Athletic build.
Nothing exaggerated.
Nothing spectacular.
But the pressure around him changed the air before he even spoke.
A sensation of invisible current passed over Son’s skin, as if the entire street were holding its breath.
“Is that one part of the unit too ?”
Harry remained silent for a second.
“No.”
Son turned his head toward him.
“Then who is he ?”
“Logan McKennie.”
The name alone was enough to make Son stiffen.
“The head of Stormshield ?”
“The man himself.”
“What is he doing here ?”
“I’d like to know that too.”
Harry watched Logan approach.
“That guy has nine Nodes.”
Son felt his stomach tighten.
“Nine…”
“The Cutting Gale.”
Harry’s voice became lower.
“He’s the reason Stormshield went from a small ambitious agency to a serious contender for the national top three.”
Logan arrived in front of them.
His gaze moved over Harry, then the entrance of the Hole, then the beacons.
“Agent Harry.”
“Mr.
McKennie.”
“What do we have ?”
Harry held out his hand.
“Son, the report.”
Son handed over the document.
Logan flipped through it quickly.
No unnecessary gestures.
No exaggerated reaction.
“Hmm.”
He handed the report to Dave.
“This is for you.”
Dave took the document.
“Yes, sir.”
He scanned the pages, then passed them to the other members.
“Rat-man hybrid Guardian.
Estimated six Nodes.
Numerous secondary population.
Cavern environment, astral roots, residual mud, pools.”
“Awaiting your orders.”
Logan looked at him with slight surprise.
“You’re the captain of Unit 1.
Do as usual.”
Dave straightened.
“Yes.”
He inhaled.
“We’re going in.”
The five men entered the Hole.
The transition swallowed them.
One second of falling.
Pressure on the eardrums.
Then the cavern.
Humid.
Blue.
Silent.
Too silent.
Dave was about to give his orders, then stopped despite himself.
His gaze slid toward Logan.
“Sir.”
Logan raised an eyebrow.
“Yes ?”
“You ordered me to do as usual.”
“That’s right.”
“With all due respect…
why are you here ?”
The other members of the unit did not move but all of them were listening.
Logan sighed.
“Stormshield is about to climb to third place in the national rankings.
The slightest incident would be unfortunate.”
He walked slowly, hands behind his back, as if the cavern contained no danger.
“Normally, Liam would have accompanied you.
But we accepted a vice-captain duel against the Wild Beasts.
Liam needs to rest.”
His gaze returned to Dave.
“So I’m here to ensure a clean conquest.”
Dave nodded.
“Satisfied ?”
“Yes, chief.”
A pause.
“But I can’t give you orders.”
Behind him, one member of the team coughed to hide his discomfort.
Logan barely smiled.
“Fight as usual.
I’ll intervene only if you run into a problem too big for you.”
“Yes, chief.”
This time, the answer came from the whole team.
Dave turned toward them.
“Standard formation.”
Their postures changed immediately.
The discomfort vanished.
Discipline took its place again.
“Julian in the rear.
Heal the wounded.”
A slim man with white gloves nodded.
“Khalia.
Elias.
Fire support.
Burn anything that moves.”
Two figures raised their hands.
The air around their palms warmed slightly.
Dave activated his gauntlets.
Clack.
Metal plates deployed along the sides, increasing the protective surface until they formed two black shields fixed to his arms.
The mechanism vibrated under the injection of Astra.
“We move.”
They advanced.
The blue light of the roots slid across their tactical suits.
A few minutes later, they reached a pool of dried mud.
Rat bodies were trapped inside.
Some half drowned.
Others frozen in the mass like insects in dark resin.
Elias wrinkled his nose.
“This is where the reconnaissance unit fought them, according to the report.”
Khalia observed the corpses.
“So after this point, things get serious.”
Dave moved past the muddy pool.
“Stay sharp.”
Logan followed in silence.
He still had not activated his Astra.
And that was precisely what made him more unsettling.
A few meters farther, sounds reached them.
Claws against stone.
Rasping breaths.
High-pitched growls.
“Grrriiih.”
“Grrriiiih.”
Dave raised his gauntlets.
“Targets approaching.”
From the darkness of the tunnel, a horde of mutant rats emerged.
“Khalia.
Elias.”
Fireballs formed between their hands.
The air grew hot.
“Attack.”