Chapter 8 · Overclocked Sync

"Hold still or I'll carve the damn thing out of your shoulder myself," Lyra snapped, her voice tight. She slammed the heavy brace against my arm, pinning my limb to the workbench with a metallic thud.

I hissed, my teeth grinding together. "Funny how your version of helping feels like a torture session."

"Shut up. You're the one who decided to play guinea pig with a banned reactor," she retorted. She didn't look up, but I could feel her breath on my neck, smelling of ozone and gunpowder. Her fingers were cold, steady, and dangerously precise as she adjusted the sync-leads.

I looked at the core. It was humming—a low, predatory vibration that seemed to rattle my very marrow. The arcane reactor wasn't just a piece of tech; it was a living parasite of energy, and right now, it was trying to eat me from the inside out.

"The sync rate is at forty percent," I gasped, the pressure in my chest tightening. "It's... it's fighting me."

"Then fight back, Vance," Lyra whispered. She leaned in closer, her chest brushing against my shoulder. The proximity was sudden, suffocating.