Page 178 of GlitchBorn Heart

I, of course, have been chasing sleep the last few hours, my mind busy working through the plan, reworking lines of code, worrying about Jett even showing up, or worse, sabotaging the whole thing. My thoughts are mechanical now, my magic taking control, going over the extraction code hundreds of times, fingers moving on autopilot. Every line of logic, every algorithm, every safeguard—all of it—runs smoothly. Perfect, as usual, but still, I don’t trust it.

Obsessive? Yes, always. It’s what makes me who I am. The tortured artist, the suffering musician, none compare to the tormented architect struggling without his muse.

If I miscalculate even a fraction, her body could reject the neural mesh. If I wait too long to extract, LINK could slip past my lockouts. If I make one wrong move, Eli could void the entire system with Lyra in it.

And if I fail...she could disappear into the system forever.

The lab feels so still tonight. Outside is total darkness, but inside the lab, the hum of the batteries running the servers haunts me like a group of Yokai hiding in the dark, watching, breathing down my neck.

Sleep just isn’t an option.

So, I move.

Pace. Test. Prepare. Test.

When every line in every program starts to blur together and the quiet of the lab in the pit of night begins to sound like a countdown, I climb.

I need air, but in this digital sewer of a city, there’s only suffocation. Every breath smells like ozone and electricity, the sterility of corporate progress choking out anything human.

My magic climbs on board and takes the driver’s seat before my logic can protest. It coils through me, pulsing under my skin, steering me like a supercar through lanes of stopped traffic. The neon veins at my temples thrum in time with the elevator, and for once, I stop fighting it.

Maybe this is who I am now, something between man and machine, between creator and monster. This whole plan feels like blasphemy. It goes against the very core principles of Kaizen, or as the rest of the world says, “continuous improvement.”

Or does it?

I remember my mother working in her lab. She would speak to me and my little sister about her projects and the importance of pride in your work. “Go to Gemba, children, in all you do.” She would pat us both on the head, a smile that could warm both our hearts instantly. Gemba—the real place, literally going somewhere that makes you happy. Hers was her lab, where she’d spend hours on her life’s work.

But now that I’m older, I see her true meaning. My real place has always been in the shadows. Somehow I allowed Vikktor to thrust me into the limelight, the man behind the machines, the face of the Corporation.

The executive elevator doors slide shut behind me, sealing me in a chrome coffin that climbs toward the upper floors. I tell myself I’m just going to clear my head, but I know that’s a lie. My head hasn’t been clear in weeks, not since Lyra said my name like it meant something real.

Security lights are dimly lit by generators lining the floor of the corridor leading to Eli’s containment cell. The walls shift from harsh white to black, with neon ribs and monitors lining each side. The air is even more sterile and cold the further I walk. The cameras follow me, their blinking red eyes recording me as if I’m about to commit a corporate crime. Some blackout. VikkCorp looks the same as it always does inside. Daunting.

Let them see. I’m done hiding.

What was it Vikktor said earlier? “Control the VoidChanneler, or I’ll find someone else who can.”

Have it your way, boss. Control is my specialty.

That threat still rings in my head, every word laced with arrogance. He thinks he’s in charge of all of this, of me, of Eli, of Lyra. But he’s too blind to see that his empire was built by someone else, someone who enjoys playing the game, and who relishes in the win.

“Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.”

—Sun Tzu—The Art of War

I can hear Kenji’s voice echo through my thoughts as the lights pulse with void energy leaking from Eli’s cell. I override the door with a master code Ash hacked for me after the failed rescue attempt. The door slides to the right with a whir, disappearing into a panel.

The air is metallic and electrified. I step into the room, and before me is the clear glass containment chamber, consisting of a small bedroom type area, with a bed, desk, and a partition hiding what must be a bathroom. I can feel the pull of Eli’s void, just beyond the containment wall, calling to me like a song made of broken frequencies.

He’s leaning back on two legs of a chair in the corner, ebook in hand, eyes pulsating faintly violet. He looks almost peaceful. I can’t help but think this must be the image Lyra holds so closely to her heart from their childhood. I wrestle with the thought of saving him. He could be the one anomaly to take down this whole city, and somewhere deep inside my psyche, on some different dark level, I almost want to see that happen.

Maybe I’m not here to save anyone tonight.

Maybe I just want to strike the match to watch it all burn to the ground intentionally.

“Did you come to kill me,” he says, voice low and calm, “or free me?”

“Neither,” I answer. My voice sounds a lot steadier than I feel. “I came to see for myself that you’re safe. Lyra would never forgive me...”