Chapter 147: Mercy Killing

The lab was a wild mess, with red lights blinking and dark, moving shadows everywhere. In the middle, the creature moved wildly, showing how much it hurt. Its loud, psychic scream was always there, pushing down on everyone, making it hard to breathe or think.

Draven didn’t give up. He stood strong, his big armor making noise from the effort and he yelled back at the pain he couldn’t see. “I don’t care what you are!”

He didn’t let the slow feeling stop his body. With a powerful burst of warrior spirit, he rushed forward once more. He didn’t try to kill it this time. He wanted to take it apart. He swung his big sword in a wide, flat cut.

The sword hit the middle of the creature, cutting deep.

Draven felt like he had won for a moment, but that feeling was wrong.

The creature didn’t even seem to feel the hit. The flesh around the huge wound began to bubble and twist. A nasty purple light, which was Jonah’s power that had been taken and changed, flowed out of the deep cut. With a wet, squishy sound, the wound closed itself up in seconds, leaving only a fresh, red scar.

It healed itself almost instantly.

“It’s no good!” Vanessa yelled, her voice strained. She was leaning against a control panel, trying to stay focused. “Every time you hit it, you’re just making it stronger! It’s using the chaotic energy from Jonah’s blood to heal itself!”

They were in a fight they couldn’t win. Their strongest hits only made their enemy more powerful.

Jonah was still on the floor, his whole body shaking. The scream felt real, like a hammer trying to break into his mind. He felt his thoughts starting to break apart, turning into the creature’s endless pain.

He was losing. He knew it.

He couldn’t fight it anymore. The scream was too powerful. He thought of Maul, a monster made of pure anger. He had tried to yell over Maul’s fury and lost. He only took charge when he stopped fighting and began to listen.

He couldn’t overpower this scream. He had to meet it.

It was the most terrifying decision he had ever made. He was already lost in the creature’s pain. To truly listen, he would have to lower his own mental defenses. He would have to open the door and let the storm in. He might not survive it.

He took a shaky breath, the air burning in his lungs. He had to try.

He stopped fighting. He stopped resisting. Instead of pushing back against the scream, he extended his own will, his own consciousness, not as a weapon, but as an open hand.

The moment he made the connection, the storm hit.

He was instantly filled with many broken, scary pictures. They weren’t just ideas; they were strong feelings and memories that hurt.

The cold, sharp metal of a surgery table against bare skin.

The terrifying sound of a surgical drill.

The burning pain of being cut open while still awake.

The confusion of a mind that was never meant to exist, a mix of instincts from many different creatures all screaming at once.

He was overwhelmed by so much pain, and he nearly gave up. But in that terrible rush of pain, he noticed something else. One clear source. A bad spot of evil that was the center of all this hurt.

He focused on that spot, pushing through the confusion. He saw it clearly in his mind. It was a poorly made, fake “Genesis Core,” forced into the creature’s chest.

That was what made it hurt.

That understanding gave him the strength he needed. He pulled his mind away quickly, and the strong mental shock left him breathing hard and feeling lightheaded.

He pushed himself to his feet, speaking in a weak voice.

“The core!” he yelled. “It’s in its chest! That’s the source of the pain!”

Seraph turned to him, her face pale in the red light. “Can you destroy it?”

Jonah shook his head. The truth was hard to accept. “It’s not a monster! It’s a victim! We can’t win by fighting it. The only way to stop the scream is to… is to end its suffering.”

“It’s a mercy.”

A mercy killing.

The team became silent. Jonah’s words hung in the air, feeling heavier than the psychic scream.

Seraph’s face looked serious, her jaw tight. She was in charge and had to make tough choices. She looked from Jonah’s hurting face to the creature that was moving wildly and suffering.

“Draven,” she ordered, her voice hard and cold. “You heard what he said. Finish it.”

Draven’s face looked very firm. All the anger was gone, and in its place was a sad, strong will. He nodded once, a clear, final gesture.

He waited, his big sword held down. The creature moved wildly, its back facing him for a brief moment as it hit its claw into the wall.

That was the only opening he needed.

His armored body moved so fast it was hard to see. He didn’t try to make a wide cut. He jabbed his sword forward in one powerful strike. He used all his strength and all his focus for that final blow.

The tip of the sword went deep into the creature’s chest.

There was a sound like shattering glass, both real and in their minds. The sick core inside the creature blew up.

The psychic scream ended at once.

The silence that followed was absolute.

The creature collapsed and simply… dissolved. Its flesh and metal broke down into a fine, black dust that disappeared, leaving only a nasty smell on the floor.

It was over.

Jonah stared at the spot where the creature had been, his body shaking from being so tired and sad. As the last small bits of dark energy started to disappear, his Weaver instincts took over. He reached out with his power, trying to absorb the fading essence.

His system flashed a sharp, urgent warning in his mind.

[Corrupted Echo Detected… Unstable… Partial Data Fragment Retrieved]

The essence was too broken, too dangerous to fully absorb. But he got something. A bright flash of a memory that was not his own.

It was a clear picture of a face, looking down as if from over a surgery table. The face had a doctor’s mask and a clean cap around it. But it was the eyes that stayed in Jonah’s mind. They were cold, smart, and full of a scary interest.

And they were sneering.

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