Chapter 215: Chapter 215: Chains Against the Net
The plaza had become a cage of white light.
Floodlamps burned through the ruin’s dust, cutting sharp edges into every shadow. Drones circled overhead in disciplined arcs, their mechanical whine layered with the low pulse of abyssal resonators mounted on the armored transports. The sound was wrong—deep, bone-vibrating, like a predator’s growl translated into machinery.
Keller pulled Lin down behind the jagged carcass of a collapsed tram. The old steel groaned beneath their weight. Min-joon crouched on Lin’s other side, keeping one hand clenched tight on his sleeve, as if terrified he’d vanish into the ground if he let go. Hwan hovered just behind them, his face pale, eyes locked on the noose tightening around them.
Through the comm-chatter echoing from the soldiers’ helmets came crisp orders:
"Resonators at maximum output. Sector three—cut off exit routes. Sector five—drones hold altitude at sixty meters. Command unit standing by for capture confirmation."
Lin’s stomach knotted. He could feel the hum of the resonators inside his ribcage, a low ache vibrating through bone and marrow. The chains inside him writhed, not in obedience, not even in hunger, but in pure agitation. They hated the sound. They wanted it gone.
Then the first strike came.
A soldier knelt, leveling what looked like a rail launcher. The weapon fired with a metallic crack that was deeper than gunfire, a sound that split the air in a jagged line. A harpoon—not steel, but something darker, ribbed with glowing veins—shot across the plaza trailing a coil of cabling.
It speared straight into the concrete near Lin, grazing his chain as it flailed. The chain shrieked, a sound not of metal but something deeper, alien. Lin doubled over, clutching his chest as blood spilled from his mouth. It felt like he’d been skewered himself.
"Lin!" Min-joon grabbed him, shaking his shoulders. "Stay with me!"
But the chains erupted.
They burst from his skin in wild arcs, gouging craters into the ground and snapping toward the harpoon. In seconds they ripped it free, tossing the abyssal weapon across the plaza like a toy. The soldiers staggered, their formation faltering.
"Jesus Christ," Keller hissed. "They’re not even listening
to him anymore."The drones swooped lower, floodlights stabbing down like blades. Gunfire erupted, disciplined and precise, aimed not at Lin’s body but at the writhing chains themselves. The bullets sparked harmlessly against them, but each impact sent fresh waves of agony through Lin’s chest. He screamed, pressing his forehead to the cold steel tram as the chains struck back.
They lashed out in every direction—snapping drones from the sky, dragging soldiers from their cover, smashing armored plates. The air filled with screams, both mechanical and human.
Min-joon clung tighter, shouting over the chaos. "Lin! Fight it! Pull them back!"
"I—can’t!" Lin choked. His voice was ragged, torn. "They’re not mine anymore!"
Keller swung his rifle up and fired at a drone swooping too low. His shot blew out its sensor, sending it spiraling into the ground. He snarled at Lin. "Then stop trying to leash them! Use the damn things—tear a hole and get us out!"
Min-joon’s head whipped around, eyes blazing. "Are you insane?! He’s barely holding himself together—if he gives in, he won’t come back!"
"He won’t have to come back if he’s already dead!" Keller snapped back, chambering another round. "The only chance we’ve got is if those things carve us a way out!"
Lin barely heard them. His world had narrowed to the chains’ howling inside him and the sharp, slicing pain of the resonators grinding through his bones. Every time a drone pulsed its scanner, his chest seized. Every time a harpoon fired, his vision blacked out at the edges.
Through the chaos, Hwan’s voice cut sharp. "There!"
Lin forced his blurred eyes to follow Hwan’s stick, pointing across the plaza. Beyond the soldiers’ line, nestled between two armored transports, was a bulkier vehicle—squat, bristling with antennae and resonator pylons. Its lights pulsed in rhythm with the sound hammering through Lin’s chest.
"The command uplink," Hwan said quickly. "It’s feeding coordination to every drone and weapon here. Without it, the net collapses."
Keller’s gaze hardened. "Then we break it."
Min-joon’s grip on Lin tightened. "Lin—listen to me. Don’t let them use you. Don’t let him use you. You’re stronger than that."
But the chains didn’t wait for Lin’s choice. They had already fixed on the uplink.
They surged across the plaza in a writhing tide, gouging trenches into the concrete. Soldiers fired in a frenzy, shouting into comms as their formation shattered under the sheer force of the black coils. Drones dove to intercept, only to be ripped from the sky in explosions of shrapnel.
Lin staggered forward a step, dragged as though the chains were hauling his body along with them. Min-joon tried to anchor him, pulling back with all his strength. "No, Lin! Don’t!"
"I—can’t—stop—" Lin gasped, each word a knife.
The chains smashed into the first transport, flipping it onto its side like it weighed nothing. Soldiers scattered. Another coil lashed through the air, impaling a second vehicle straight through its armor plating. It groaned, sparks spraying as the engine detonated.
The uplink loomed closer, its antennas shuddering under the distortion of the abyss’s power.
Keller cursed, grabbing Min-joon’s arm. "Let him finish it! If that uplink goes down, we live! If not, we die here."
Min-joon’s voice broke. "You don’t understand—if he gives in, he won’t be Lin anymore!"
The chains rose high, blotting out the floodlights as they arced above the plaza. Soldiers screamed into their comms, the net faltering under the chaos.
And Lin—Lin could feel it. The chains weren’t listening to him. They weren’t protecting him. They weren’t fighting for survival.
They were obeying something else.
His heart thundered as he realized: the abyss itself was steering them.
He was no longer a wielder. He was a conduit.
"Min-joon..." His voice cracked, almost lost beneath the roar of collapsing steel. "I’m not—driving this."
The largest chain slammed down toward the uplink, the earth trembling beneath its weight. Sparks flew as its tip carved into the vehicle’s armored roof. The resonators inside screamed in feedback, the sound stabbing through every ear in the plaza.
The uplink groaned. Soldiers panicked. The drones wavered.
But Lin’s knees buckled as a deeper voice stirred inside his skull—distant, vast, and cold. A single command not in words but in feeling:
Break them. Inherit.
He collapsed to the ground, clutching his head, screaming as the chains continued without him.
The abyss was claiming the strike force—not for his survival, not for escape, but for its own design.
And Lin could do nothing but feel himself slipping with it.