Chapter 110: Between the Strike and the Door
—When the Walls Yield—
The chamber trembled.
Not with impact.
But with pressure—the kind of pressure that meant a wall somewhere had fallen, and no one sounded the alarm.
Karen moved first.
"It's now."
Cassandra stepped forward beside her, lifting her hand.
The Null Field unspooled—not violently, but precisely, wrapping around the intake vents and soul locks in the far wall like fingers unlatching a stubborn gate.
"Two seconds."
Karen nodded. Her scythe flickered—compressed into its combat form, blade edged in shadow and refracted energy.
The door groaned.
Then cracked.
A breath of cold air spilled in.
"Go."
They surged forward as one.
Not perfect.
Not elegant.
But committed.
Down the corridor, the first guards turned—but hesitated. These were no longer unarmed captives. These were trained Soulbornes mid-awakening.
Karen swung first.
Her scythe sang low—a crescent slash across the first guard's shoulder, not deep enough to kill, but sharp enough to fold him.
Cassandra followed, her Null Field flaring again, causing the lights to flicker and the walls to mute all power signatures within range.
They didn't run fast—
They ran intentionally.
Toward the breach. Toward the ripple of power Karen now recognized in her bones.
"She's here."
"My mother," Cassandra said, almost under her breath.
"We have to reach her before—"
Karen stopped mid-step.
A shadow moved ahead.
Slow. Deliberate.
And then the light bent—
And the wall melted.
Not exploded.
Not burst.
Just… peeled back like it had never truly been solid.
And from the smoke stepped T`halem.
No scythe.
No shouting.
Just his gaze—fixed on them.
"You fought better than expected."
Karen's pulse jumped, but her face stayed still.
"Stay back," she warned.
T`halem's brow lifted slightly.
"Or what? You'll swing a name at me?"
Her grip tightened on the scythe.
He looked past her—at Cassandra.
"You're almost ready."
"For what?" Cassandra spat.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward—
And then he froze.
A streak of precise, compressed lightning coiled through the air.
T`halem turned his head—barely—
And caught it between his fingers.
The scent of burnt soul energy crackled behind him.
He turned.
Slowly.
And finally—Muna Ikemba stepped into the corridor.
Her coat burned at the sleeves. Her hair curled with static.
Her eyes locked on her daughter.
Then on the shadow between them.
"Get away from them."
T`halem exhaled. It sounded almost fond.
"You've gotten stronger, Muna."
Muna didn't blink.
"I will kill you where you stand."
"You can try."
The air warped—pressure folding into itself.
Cassandra staggered back, eyes wide.
"Mom…"
Karen gripped her scythe tighter.
"We have to help—"
Muna raised a hand slightly without looking at them.
"Run. That's an order."
"But—"
"RUN."
The walls behind them peeled open—clearly manipulated by Muna's Domain signature, giving them a corridor to flee.
T`halem tilted his head.
"I could stop them."
"Try it."
He didn't.
He just smiled.
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Karen and Cassandra fled, their lungs burning with the weight of what they'd just survived—and what Muna had stayed behind to face.
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