Page 71 of The Monster's Daughter

I strap on my armor in silence. It used to belong to me back in the field. Doesn’t quite fit the same. The scar on my hip burns when I tighten the fastenings.

Kage watches me for a beat.

I don’t meet his gaze.

There’s nothing left to say.

We’ve both already said it—screamed it—bleeding in the dark with our daughter gone.

Now? Now we act.

He shoulders a pulse rifle. Then two more. Clips them to his back like they weigh nothing. There’s a blade strapped to his thigh that hums with vengeance. His jaw is set like stone.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Let’s burn their house down,” I say.

We breach through a maintenance port.

Kage slices the hatch with old resistance codes, and the door opens with a hiss that smells like ancient copper and mold.

The air tastes wrong.

Stale. Chemical. Alive.

The hallway beyond glows white, floor-to-ceiling sterilization, but veins of silver circuitry crawl across every surface like lichen. They pulse faintly under our boots.

Machine whispers hum through the vents.

Not words.

Binary prayer.

I almost vomit.

Kage moves ahead, smooth and lethal. His boots make no sound. His rifle is up, scanning corners. Every time he kills a drone, I hear his breath change—one step closer.

We’re ghosts in their god’s house.

I follow close behind, gun tight in my grip, trying not to think about what it’ll feel like to shoot someone whoworshipsmy kid.

The corridors are maze-like. Every section looks the same—same sterile sheen, same humming resonance. My arm vibrates from the frequency. I adjust the filter in my HUD. Doesn’t help.

We descend.

Deeper.

Through layers of worship. Living quarters smeared with skin oil and steel. Rooms with altars—bloody with offerings. Holograms of Natalie’s face.

I shoot one.

Kage doesn’t say anything.

He just grabs my hand for a second. Quick. Hard.

Then we reach it. The sanctum is circular. Domed.

A cathedral of code.