NOVEL NEXT Chapter 251: Destroy The Cursed (67)
"I'm ready," Xin whispered, her voice steady but her heart far from calm.
Side by side, she and Rin stepped into the towering facility.
The Lone Lab was a colossal complex, divided into two halves that mirrored the duality of human ambition. One wing was mechanical, its chambers filled with the whir of gears, the hiss of pistons, and the glow of welding sparks.
Robotic frames, drones, and towering mech prototypes stood in various states of construction, their creators toiling tirelessly even after the city's devastation.
The scientists here could have rested, could have sought refuge like the rest of the citizens—but instead they chose labor, fashioning tools that might one day shield humanity from ruin.
Yet that was not where the twins were headed.
Their destination lay deeper, in the other half of the facility—a place of quieter dread. Here, the research turned biological.
The halls grew colder, the air heavier. Scientists in sterile coats moved about with grim expressions, bent over glowing vats and sealed containment tubes.
Strange, half-finished lifeforms pulsed faintly under glass. Their dedication was evident, but so too was the weight of despair pressing down on their shoulders.
Rin and Xin pressed on in silence until at last they found him—Dr. Matzo.
The older scientist stood apart, facing a wide window that overlooked nothing but shadows.
His tall frame was stiff, and his fingers tapped endlessly against his palm, a restless rhythm that betrayed the turmoil beneath his calm façade.
His gaze was distant, almost hollow, as though fixed on something far away that no one else could see.
Rin cleared his throat softly. "Doctor."
Matzo flinched, spinning toward them. His eyes widened, startled, before quickly narrowing again as he straightened his posture.
"So it's you two." His voice was level, but the heaviness in it betrayed what he truly carried.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a quiet breath, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
The words landed like a blow.
Xin's body trembled. Rin's jaw tightened until his teeth ground together. They didn't need him to explain.
They already knew what awaited them here—what "sorry" meant. But still, they had to face it. They had no other choice.
"Come," Matzo said finally.
He turned and began walking down the corridor, his coat trailing faintly with his steps. The twins followed in silence, their faces solemn, every beat of their hearts dragging heavier and heavier in their chests.
Each step carried them closer to the truth, closer to the sight they feared most yet could not turn away from.
At last, they arrived at a sealed chamber with three doors—one painted blue, another black, and the final one, red. The red door loomed before them, marked with warning sigils and access locks. Restricted. Forbidden. Off-limits to all but a select few.
Dr. Matzo approached the scanner, pressing his palm against its glowing plate. A mechanical hum vibrated through the hall.
The system processed his fingerprint with a flicker of light—red, then amber, then green. With a heavy hiss, the locks disengaged.
Click.
Whirr.
Shzzhhhhl.
The thick steel door began to slide open, inch by inch, releasing a rush of sterile, frostbitten air that curled like mist into the hall.
Inside was a modest chamber, neither small nor grand. Its walls were lined with equipment, consoles, and softly blinking monitors. But none of it mattered.
Because in the very center of the room stood a towering tube.
The cylinder glowed with the eerie shimmer of icy-blue fluid. Suspended within, her body bound by cords and a breathing tube fixed to her lips, floated a woman.
She looked no older than her late twenties, her features striking but twisted in torment. Her long hair drifted around her in the liquid, strands like silver ribbons.
Her face—so familiar, so beloved—was contorted in pain even in forced slumber. Her body twitched faintly, as if fighting chains unseen, each movement subtle but agonizing.
Xin's breath caught.
Rin's hands curled into fists.
There, entombed in living ice, was their aunt.
Several black veins stretched across the woman's body, winding from her temples all the way to her toes.
They pulsed with a sick rhythm, like a heartbeat gone wrong, each throb threatening to rupture at any moment. It was a grotesque sight—unnatural, cruel.
Rin's face fell. His breath caught in his throat, and his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Beside him, Xin slapped a trembling hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that clawed its way up her throat.
What they were witnessing… it was no different from a nightmare.
The woman inside the tube—her aunt, their aunt—looked like a soul caught between life and death, suspended in eternal torment.
Rin shut his eyes, forcing himself to draw in deep, steady breaths. He could not allow himself to break. Not here. Not now. It took him several moments before he managed to control the storm raging inside his chest. When he finally opened his eyes, he turned to Dr. Matzo.
"That's her, isn't it?" His voice was low, almost strained. "Our aunt?"
The older scientist's lips tightened. He glanced at the woman, at her pain-filled expression, before nodding slowly. "Yes. That's her."
The words felt like lead. Heavy. Final.
Dr. Matzo's voice carried an undercurrent of guilt, as if every syllable tore at him. Not only had he been Mei's friend once, but for years he had tried—fought—to save her.
Yet all his genius, all his sleepless nights, had ended in failure. Even now, after all this time, he had nothing to show but this cruel display of suffering.
Rin and Xin stepped closer to the glass tube.
This was their first time truly seeing her. The truth was cruel—when Mei had become corrupted, they had only been infants, barely a year old.
They had never known her warmth, her laughter, her smile. Only their elder siblings had seen her before the darkness consumed her.
Han had told them countless times that one day, when Mei recovered, they would finally meet her in her full health, her radiant self.
But fate had played them false.
The woman before them was not recovering. No, she was slipping further, inch by inch, into death's cold grasp.
The agony etched into her body, the veins writhing beneath her skin, the faint shuddering of her frame—it was unbearable. It was enough to shatter the hearts of both twins.
Rin squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to suppress the tears threatening to spill. His fists trembled. His shoulders shook. He hated this. Hated seeing her like this. Hated his own helplessness.
Xin could no longer restrain herself.
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, sobs wracking her body. At first, the tears came slowly—drop by drop—but soon they poured down freely, streaming as though a dam had broken within her.
She clutched desperately at the necklace that hung around her neck, gripping it so tightly her knuckles ached. As if that single token could anchor her, as if holding onto it could ease even a fraction of the pain.
Dr. Matzo turned his gaze away, his own expression darkening. Never in his long career had he felt such failure. He had poured years into this—into Mei—trying to halt the corruption.
For a time, he had succeeded. He had bought her time. But now, even that fragile resistance had collapsed.
"She needs… a miracle," he whispered under his breath. "Nothing less than a divine miracle can save her now."
His gaze drifted, almost aimlessly—until it fell on Xin. Or rather, what Xin held in her trembling hands.
His eyes narrowed. His breath caught. The necklace…
It was a small glass pendant, simple in shape but strange in nature. Within its transparent orb swirled a droplet of liquid—green, yet unmoving. Not flowing, not frozen. Suspended, timeless.
Impossible.
His heart pounded in his chest as realization struck him.
"Could it be…?" he muttered.
Without meaning to, he stepped forward. "Little miss," he said softly, his voice trembling now not from sorrow, but from hope. "May I… may I see your necklace?"
Xin blinked through her tears, confused. For a moment, she hesitated. Then, silently, she unclasped it from her neck and handed it to him.
Dr. Matzo's hands shook as he received it. He turned quickly, rummaging through the room until he pulled out a clear jar. Filling it to the brim with water, he carefully lowered the pendant into it.
For a moment—nothing happened. The pendant floated, ordinary, lifeless.
Then—
The droplet inside began to stir. Its green hue shimmered, shifting before their very eyes.
Slowly it bled into a lighter shade—pale green, then amber, then a glowing orange. The jar pulsed with color. The liquid shifted again—deeper, darker—until at last it settled into a radiant crimson.
Dr. Matzo's lips parted. His eyes widened. Then, for the first time in years, a smile broke across his face.
"It really is…" he whispered, his voice shaking. "It really is the one."
He looked at the twins, his expression alight with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"The Tears of Lys."
TO Be Continued....
AUTHOR'S NOTE
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– Ultra