NOVEL NEXT Chapter 71: Operation Ghostlight
The silence in the room after Leo's declaration was a living thing.
It was heavy.
It was profound.
It was the quiet sound of a boy volunteering to walk into the heart of a hurricane.
Leo looked at the schematics for the communications spire, at the impossible, vertical climb into the heart of the storm.
"This is my part of the fight," he said, his voice dropping to a low, personal whisper. "This is my debt."
He finally looked at Clara, and a small, sad, and deeply genuine smile touched his lips.
"I owe him that much."
Miles just stared at him, his own system running a thousand frantic, useless calculations.
[PROBABILITY OF LEO'S SURVIVAL: 7.8%.]
The number was a cold, hard stone in his gut.
"This is a monumentally bad idea," his internal monologue whispered, a dry, panicked voice in the quiet of his own mind.
"I mean, I'm all for dramatic gestures, but this feels a little over the top."
"Couldn't he just, you know, send a strongly worded email?"
"'Dear Silas Cross, please stop being evil. P.S. Your security network has a glaring and frankly embarrassing design flaw. You're welcome. Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen'."
"That seems much more reasonable."
"And significantly less likely to end with him being turned into a human lightning rod."
Kael, the stoic, pragmatic soldier, was the first to speak.
He looked at Leo, not with pity, but with a new, grudging respect.
"It's a fool's mission," Kael said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
"But it's a brave one."
He gave a single, sharp nod.
"If you are going," he stated simply, "you will not go alone."
"My two best climbers will go with you."
"They will get you to the top."
"The rest is up to you."
The gesture was small, but it was everything.
It was a soldier's trust.
It was a leader's faith.
The fractured council was starting to feel like an army.
And Miles knew, with a sudden, crushing certainty, that it was his turn to lead it.
This was his moment.
His test.
He stepped forward, into the center of the room, his movements calm, deliberate, and full of a new, hard-won authority.
He looked at his strange, broken, and deeply loyal team.
He looked at the determined faces of the rescued fighters.
He looked at the grim, resolute expression on Kael's face.
He looked at Clara, who was watching him with a mixture of pride and a deep, gut-wrenching fear.
And he looked at Leo, who gave him a small, tired, but unwavering nod.
He took a deep breath.
"Okay," he said, his voice quiet but ringing with a clarity that commanded the attention of everyone in the room.
"We have a plan."
He brought the full, three-dimensional schematic of the Cross Corp tower up on the holographic display.
He began to outline the assault, his voice the calm, precise instrument of a general on the eve of battle.
"The operation will have three phases," he began, his finger tracing a line on the glowing map.
"It will be a three-pronged attack."
He looked at Kael.
"Team Alpha," he said, his voice sharp, official. "You are the hammer."
"Kael, you will lead a primary diversionary force. You will hit the main entrance with everything you have. Loud. Messy. Non-lethal."
"Your objective is not to win. It is to draw ARGUS's attention. To make them focus their resources on the front door."
"You are to create a storm."
Kael's eyes gleamed with a cold, professional light. He understood. He had his orders.
Miles then turned his gaze to the two fighters Kael had designated as Leo's escort.
"Team Beta," he said. "You are the key."
"Your mission is to get Leo to the top of that spire, no matter the cost."
"You are his shield. His lifeline."
"You will be climbing into the heart of the storm."
The two fighters, a quiet, wiry girl and a boy who looked like he was carved from stone, just gave a single, sharp nod.
Finally, he looked at Clara.
"Team Gamma," he said, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. "We are the ghosts."
"Once Leo disables ARGUS, we will have a window. A brief, chaotic period before their manual systems can reboot."
"That's when we go in."
"Our objective is Gideon."
"We get him, and we get out."
"No heroics. No detours."
"We are a whisper in the noise."
The plan was set.
It was simple.
It was elegant.
And it was probably going to get them all killed.
He looked at the assembled faces of his small, strange army.
He saw the fear.
He saw the doubt.
But he also saw the hope.
The desperate, fragile, and deeply powerful hope of people who had nothing left to lose.
He had to give them something more.
He had to give them a reason to believe.
He looked at them, at the survivors of The Nursery, at the soldiers who had lost their commander, at the friends who had become his family.
"Silas Cross thinks he's hunting one ghost," he said, his voice resonating through the silent lab, filled with a newfound authority that surprised even himself.
"He thinks we are a nuisance. A loose end. A child's tantrum."
"He is sitting in his glass tower, looking down on this city, and he believes he is untouchable."
"He believes he is a king."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"Tonight," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "We show him that even kings can be haunted."
He looked at each and every one of them, his gaze a solemn vow.
"Tonight, we will be the ghosts that bring his secrets into the light."
He took a final, deep breath.
"Tonight, we launch Operation Ghostlight."
The name echoed in the quiet room.
It wasn't a shout.
It wasn't a cheer.
It was a quiet, resolute whisper.
A promise.
A prayer.
The team, his team, echoed the name back to him, their voices a fragile but powerful chorus of unity.
"Operation Ghostlight."
The die was cast.
The storm was coming.
And the ghosts were about to go to war.