They say competitors are natural-born frenemies. Just look at those watermelon-selling aunties at the fruit market—put their stalls side by side and it’s only a matter of time before someone’s yelling, “You’re undercutting!” or “You’re poaching my customers!” Next thing you know, it’s handbags at dawn. Now, in this situation, who knows what this rival is really after? But let’s be real, the lab only has a handful of things worth fighting over anyway.
“Just tell me where the top-secret archive is—no more directions, just point me straight! I want a shortcut!” No time for detours chasing tech trophies; those things aren’t worth squat compared to Jonathan Black’s neck. Jill Young wasn’t about to tiptoe around anymore. She stared right into the old guy’s blank eyes and repeated, “Don’t just stand there! Which way’s the archive?”
“Uh...” The old man swallowed hard, spooked by a bad feeling—seriously, has anyone ever tried something this nuts before? His soul was rattled, but his body still pointed, almost on autopilot: “Over there, bottom floor.”
Jill Young didn’t waste a breath—she strode up and threw a punch. Boom! The wall exploded into chunks, leaving a Jill-sized hole with an office on the other side. Without missing a beat, she slung Father Michael over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, golden light swirling around her, and launched herself through the gap, not caring what lay ahead.
A bunch of tech nerds were hiding under their desks, trembling like jelly, when the sound of splintering walls and deafening booms sent them screaming at the top of their lungs. After a good round of shrieking, they realized they weren’t dead, so they shakily grabbed their glasses off the floor and poked their heads out from under the desks—only to see a giant hole blown through the opposite wall.
The two holes lined up perfectly, and every desk in between was snapped in half, like a freight train had plowed right through. Peeking through the wreckage, you could see more holes punched through wall after wall. Somewhere, a huge bang echoed and the ground shook three times. Wild winds whipped up a blizzard of paper scraps—precious research data fluttering down like snow—while the tech nerds just stared dumbly at the gaping hole.
Elsewhere, in the control center, the two security monitors were squirming like ants on a hot skillet.
It wasn’t just the screens flickering out one by one—the real problem was, they were completely trapped inside with no way out.
“Aaargh!”—whether shrill, deranged, twisted, or furious, all kinds of screams mixed with dull thuds, and even the high-tech walls and doors couldn’t hold back the tidal wave of noise pounding at the nerves of these two unlucky souls.
One monitor was dragging anything movable to barricade the door, sometimes pressing his face to the edge to peek out at the hallway, his heart thumping like a drum. The other was frantically patching wires together, desperate to call for backup.
Right now, the whole lab looks like a crime scene—blood splattered everywhere, and all the muscle’s busy protecting the precious scientists. No one gives a hoot about the poor night-shift grunts. So, what’s the game plan? Call for backup. Just thinking about that red-haired, red-eyed iron lady—the cold-blooded Lab Director—makes them feel like if she barged in with her crew, all this chaos would get stomped flat.
No luck, that plan’s a bust.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why can’t I get through? Why is the Lab Director’s line dead?" The monitor’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head, his face swinging between ghostly pale and fire-engine red. He kept calling for help, but nobody answered.
Nope, there was one thing that did answer—the Central AI. Its voice was as elegant and composed as ever, always ready with an answer: "According to the schedule, the Lab Director is currently in talks with the military brass. She’s probably in a meeting right now."
"A meeting? Who the heck holds a meeting at a time like this?!" Classic—bosses love meetings when the world’s falling apart. This is peak bureaucratic nonsense!
"There’s another possibility," the Central AI chimed in, still cool as a cucumber: "The thunderstorm on the surface is messing with all electronic communications. Please protect the backup power supply—we might need the secondary energy line."
No sooner had it finished speaking than—WHAM! A huge, distant crash echoed through the building. The two monitors stared at each other, bug-eyed, then wailed in unison, "What the heck is happening NOW?!"
No clue what’s going on, but it can’t be good.
Meanwhile, up top, the storm was going absolutely bonkers. It was like every ounce of pent-up energy was getting dumped right here, turning the place into an epic disaster zone. The wind speed was off the charts—way past level twelve—and four or five tornadoes spun around like hungry dragons fighting over scraps.
CRACK! Lightning smashed the roof, finally finishing off the barn, which instantly crumbled into dust. Every building structure fell apart in a blink. Dirt got sucked up into the sky, even the foundations were toast. The tornadoes circled the barn, then unleashed their fury on every metal thing in sight.
"Uh... Sorry, I honestly didn’t notice anything."
"What?" Dream Monroe’s eyes went wide, a bad feeling creeping up her spine. "Back in Shanghai, ‘you’ could sense all kinds of weird energy and even shut it down with a finger. How come today you need me to spell it out for you?"
"He’s him and I’m me, we’re not the same. Oh, energy? Got it!" Jill Young instantly caught on, slapped Dream Monroe’s shoulder and grinned, "Nice work, comrade—giving out such critical intel. If we win this round, the credit’s all yours. I’ll put a gold star next to your name!"
Boom! The Fate Void trembled, and Dream Monroe vaguely saw a thread stretch out from the void, winding around her Fate Star and yanking it toward the mortal world.
How did a simple heads-up turn into such a cosmic mess?
Dream Monroe’s face twisted with outrage—she wanted nothing more than to jump Jill Young and shake her silly. How could there be such a gap between you two? I don’t need your gold stars, girl—I just want my peaceful, untainted existence back!
Jill just shot Dream Monroe a sly grin, like a fox who’d just nabbed a chicken. She seemed to get what was up with Dream now. From the start, Dream kept talking about cutting off fate and karma, and her hands-off approach was all part of that plan. But come on, who can really dodge karma in this world? Even a single word—if it actually shakes things up—will drag you into the mess.
"Who are you talking to?" Father Michael asked, totally lost.
"Hmm..." Jill Young pinched her chin, her mind instantly running wild with schemes.
Dream Monroe wasn’t invisible in the usual sense—she just erased her presence. So only someone with a deep, tangled fate with her could see her when she vanished. But what if Jill deliberately pointed her out? If she made Father Michael notice Dream, would that pile on even more cosmic consequences?
The moment Jill thought about it, she could feel it. She snickered darkly, while Dream Monroe’s face twisted even more—she just knew Jill was up to something sneaky. In the end, Jill only lobbed a half-hearted, brain-fried comment at Father Michael: "Why all the chatter? Just point the way—where to next?"
"That way."
"Alright, let’s keep moving! There’s plenty of time to whip my future wife into shape later—right now, we’ve got business to handle."
Boom! The Fate Void trembled, and Dream Monroe vaguely saw a thread stretch out from the void, winding around her Fate Star and yanking it toward the mortal world.
How did a simple heads-up turn into such a cosmic mess?
Dream Monroe’s face twisted with outrage—she wanted nothing more than to jump Jill Young and shake her silly. How could there be such a gap between you two? I don’t need your gold stars, girl—I just want my peaceful, untainted existence back!
Jill just shot Dream Monroe a sly grin, like a fox who’d just nabbed a chicken. She seemed to get what was up with Dream now. From the start, Dream kept talking about cutting off fate and karma, and her hands-off approach was all part of that plan. But come on, who can really dodge karma in this world? Even a single word—if it actually shakes things up—will drag you into the mess.
"Who are you talking to?" Father Michael asked, totally lost.
"Hmm..." Jill Young pinched her chin, her mind instantly running wild with schemes.
Dream Monroe wasn’t invisible in the usual sense—she just erased her presence. So only someone with a deep, tangled fate with her could see her when she vanished. But what if Jill deliberately pointed her out? If she made Father Michael notice Dream, would that pile on even more cosmic consequences?
The moment Jill thought about it, she could feel it. She snickered darkly, while Dream Monroe’s face twisted even more—she just knew Jill was up to something sneaky. In the end, Jill only lobbed a half-hearted, brain-fried comment at Father Michael: "Why all the chatter? Just point the way—where to next?"
"That way."
"Alright, let’s keep moving! There’s plenty of time to whip my future wife into shape later—right now, we’ve got business to handle."