Lucas felt the weight of the threads wrap tighter around him as the Voidwalker's voice echoed like a distant, malevolent whisper in the back of his mind. The figure in front of him flickered in and out of existence, its presence both physical and ethereal, a perfect manifestation of the chaos Lucas had been sensing all along. He couldn’t focus entirely on its form—there was something else, something deeper pulling at him from within.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” the Voidwalker taunted, its figure slowly solidifying, its glowing eyes narrowing. “The threads. They’re alive, Lucas. You’ve just begun to tap into their power. But you’re not the only one who can command them.”

Lucas’s heart raced, the knowledge gnawing at him. This creature, this Voidwalker, was no ordinary threat. It was woven into the very fabric of the threads themselves, able to bend and manipulate them in ways Lucas was only beginning to understand.

“Get away from him,” Wren snarled, stepping forward with her blade raised. She was a blur of motion as she charged at the Voidwalker, the sword cutting through the air.

But with a flick of the Voidwalker’s wrist, a pulse of energy erupted from its form, sending Wren crashing back against the steel walls. She groaned, struggling to get up, but Lucas knew the impact had taken its toll.

“Wren!” he shouted, fear surging through him. His focus on the threads fractured for a moment as his mind flooded with the desire to help.

The Voidwalker’s hollow voice mocked him. “You’re weak, Lucas. You can’t save her. You can’t even save yourself.”

Lucas’s fingers curled into fists, feeling the threads surge through him like wildfire. This time, he wasn’t just reacting to the flow of energy around him—he was commanding it, bending it to his will. He reached out with his mind, willing the threads to coil and twist, to strike.

As if answering his call, a whip of energy lashed out from his gauntlet, slamming into the Voidwalker’s chest. The figure staggered, its form flickering violently. For a moment, it seemed as though Lucas’s power had landed a solid blow.

But then, the Voidwalker laughed—an eerie, unnatural sound that reverberated through the spire.

“You think you can control the threads?” it sneered. “You are nothing more than a puppet, Lucas. And I hold the strings.”

The air around them thickened, the threads vibrating with an unnatural hum, twisting in impossible directions. Lucas’s vision blurred as the threads seemed to slip away from his grasp, becoming something alien—hostile. Panic clawed at his chest as the power he’d felt so connected to now threatened to overwhelm him.

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“You’re mine now,” the Voidwalker whispered, its figure fully solidifying, looming over Lucas. The figure reached out, its fingers crackling with raw energy.

Just as Lucas braced for impact, he felt a sharp, intense force surge through him—the threads realigned, snapping back into place, not under the Voidwalker's control, but his own. He wasn’t just fighting against the Voidwalker. He was fighting to be the threads.

He raised his hand, the energy swirling violently around him, and with a scream of pure focus, Lucas unleashed the full force of the threads.

The Voidwalker’s form began to unravel, its eerie smile slowly fading. It shrieked, its body twisting and warping as it fought against the onslaught of power.

Wren, now back on her feet, watched in awe. “Lucas—”

But the moment was fleeting. Just as the Voidwalker seemed ready to disintegrate entirely, the air crackled with another energy signature, and the entire chamber shook violently. The sound of grinding metal filled the space as the spire’s core shifted, activating a dangerous new defense system.

“Not yet, Lucas,” the Voidwalker hissed, its voice now distant and distorted. “The threads are not yours to command. Not yet.”

With a final, terrifying scream, the Voidwalker’s form fractured into the air, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. But Lucas knew it wasn’t gone. Not entirely. It was still out there, waiting, watching, lingering in the threads themselves.

“Stay alert,” Wren said, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. She turned to Lucas, eyes hardening. “It’s not over.”

But Lucas didn’t respond. His mind was still reeling from the encounter. He had won the battle, but the war was far from over. The threads had shown him power, but they were still a mystery—an enigma he needed to unravel before they consumed him entirely.

“I… I can feel it,” Lucas whispered, his hand trembling. “It’s still here.”

Before Wren could answer, a loud crash echoed through the spire, the floor beneath them shaking violently.

“We need to move,” Wren said, urgency in her voice. “Now.”

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Elena, Kael, and Lily were pushing forward through the Nexus. The alarms were deafening, echoing through the corridors like a countdown to an inevitable disaster. Each step they took brought them closer to the heart of the spire, but the intensity of NexTech's response was escalating by the second.

“They’re everywhere,” Kael muttered, his rifle crackling with energy. “We’ve got to take them down before they can activate the Core.”

Lily glanced around, her grip tightening on her glowing blade. “Then let’s get to it.”

They turned a corner, and the sight that met them froze them all in their tracks. Ahead, the entrance to the Core room stood open, bathed in the faint blue glow of NexTech’s machinery. But it wasn’t the entrance that caught their attention—it was the sheer number of soldiers guarding it, backed by an army of drones.

And standing at the heart of it all, a figure in dark armor, its face obscured by a helmet. The leader of NexTech’s forces.

“Kael,” Elena said under her breath. “This is it.”

Kael gave a grim nod. “We’ll need everything we’ve got to make it through.”