The echoes of the conflict lingered in the vaulted ceiling of the arena, a testament to the brief but total annihilation of the enforcement squad. Zeta remained in the center of the debris, his chest rising and falling in a controlled, rhythmic cadence. The adrenaline that had fueled his Overdrive was beginning to recede, replaced by a cold, numbing sensation that crawled up his spine. He could feel the residual feedback of the neural connections he had severed, a faint, static hum that resonated within his own skull. He was the eye of the storm, the singular entity that had dared to tear the fabric of Neo Soma’s reality.
Mara stood just a few paces behind him, her hands clenched at her sides. She stared at his back, at the way his posture remained unnaturally rigid, as if he were waiti
