Biocores: The Legendary Weapon Designer-Chapter 107: Give her to me

"At two, she could crush boulders in her tiny hands.

By ten, even my mother—the reigning Monarch—struggled to defeat her in a test of strength.""The people... they began to whisper.

Some saw in her the future of Shurima. A monarch unlike any before.

Ambition grew. Greed grew.

And then came the assassination attempt."

Lithaa’s voice faltered for a heartbeat, old wounds reopening.

"My husband was killed."

A silence heavier than iron settled between them.

Lithaa straightened her back, her eyes steel.

"The Elders, desperate to maintain tradition, came up with a plan.

If Akrona could not be officially the heir as a daughter...

They would force her to become their son."

Nioh’s mouth opened slightly in horror.

"They made her fuse with an S-Class Biocore designed to switch gender.

It should have worked."

Her voice cracked slightly—only slightly.

"But they underestimated the Heart of Gaia.

It is a purely feminine Biocore.

The fusion backfired."

Lithaa shook her head slowly.

"Since that day, she has carried pain no child should bear.

We tried everything—technology, surgery, healing arts, Core binding rituals—but nothing could stabilize her fully.

She lived... but it was like walking on the edge of a sword."

Lithaa’s hands clenched at her sides.

"And now... something has disrupted the fragile balance we maintained for years.

The Heart of Gaia is fracturing."

Nioh felt like the air had been punched from his lungs.

His hands, usually so steady, were trembling.

"I want to see her," he whispered, his voice no longer the voice of a monarch or a schemer—

—but of a boy who had just realized he was about to lose someone irreplaceable.

Lithaa met his gaze, long and hard.

Then, after a heavy moment, she simply nodded.

"Follow me," she said quietly.

—

They walked in silence, the only sound their footsteps echoing along the narrow corridor.

Nioh replayed every word Lithaa had said, trying to piece together what could have triggered Akrona’s Biocore to spiral out of control.

The palace soon came into view—grand, towering, and majestic.

A breathtaking fusion of nature and craftsmanship: colossal tree roots intertwined with white marble walls, golden vines snaking up glittering spires, and waterfalls cascading from the rooftops into crystal-clear pools that lined the entrance.

It was a place where life and art had become one—regal, eternal.

But neither Nioh nor Lithaa spared the palace a glance.

They circled the massive golden entrance and slipped into a narrow, shadowed path, descending deeper and deeper into the earth.

The walls grew damp. Cold.

Finally, they reached a heavy iron door.

"From here on," Lithaa muttered without looking back, her voice low and grim,

"you better pray luck is on your side.

Because I won’t guarantee your life."

With a groan of rusted hinges, she pushed the door open.

The hall beyond was desolate, save for a single colossal stone altar in the center.

There, cradled by machines, wires, and arcane instruments, lay Akron—no, Akrona.

Even from afar, Nioh could see how fragile she looked.

Her once indomitable frame now seemed dwarfed by the altar, her body sunken, swallowed by a jungle of medical devices.

Around her, doctors, healers, and elders argued in a cacophony of heated voices, so absorbed in their desperate debates that they didn’t even notice Lithaa—the princess—enter.

A voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the noise.

"Who is this?"

Nioh turned toward the sound—and only then noticed the woman seated in the shadows atop a throne carved from obsidian and bone.

The monarch.

She lounged casually, a glass of wine in one hand, while young men massaged her shoulders and feet.

Her aura was utterly still—no killing intent, no emotional fluctuation.

Nioh would have mistaken her for an ordinary noblewoman, had he not known better.

Tall and imposing, she had the same muscular build as Lithaa, with soft brown hair falling around a face that was both gentle and hard.

An iron fist wrapped in velvet.

She seemed utterly detached from the frantic struggle unfolding around her second daughter.

A queen watching ants scramble in the dirt.

"You dare bring a foreigner into the sacred chambers of Shurima?" she said, her voice smooth and cold as polished steel.

Lithaa dropped to one knee instantly, pressing her forehead to the floor.

"My lord," she said, her voice reverent but urgent,

"this is an emergency. I request permission to approach and explain." freewebnoveℓ.com

The monarch tilted her head slightly, considering.

She drained her glass, and in the blink of an eye, she vanished—only to reappear right in front of Nioh.

Before he could even react, her hand closed around his throat.

He was lifted effortlessly off the ground, boots scraping against the floor, air stolen from his lungs.

Her grip was like iron; unbreakable.

Nioh’s hands clawed reflexively at her wrist, but it was like fighting the weight of the world itself.

The monarch studied him with dispassionate, predator-like eyes, as if deciding whether to crush his windpipe then and there.

"Who are you?"

The monarch’s voice was low, lethal, as she stared straight into Nioh’s eyes.

He didn’t flinch.

Instead, he smiled.

"Son of the Absolute Monarch," he said.

Her rage exploded.

She slammed him against the nearest wall, the impact shaking dust from the ceiling, her fingers still crushing his throat.

"Mother! He is the Sathi of Rona!" Lithaa shouted desperately.

The monarch froze for a heartbeat, the word slicing through her fury.

She turned sharply to her daughter, eyes narrowing.

"Sathi?" she asked, voice dangerously calm.

"Yes!" Lithaa pressed her forehead to the floor again. "Rona chose him herself. Please... allow him to see her. He will leave afterward."

Murmurs rippled through the room.

"You have broken a sacred law today," one of the elders barked.

"You’ve tainted this holy place! He is an outsider—he cannot be allowed to stay!"

A low, guttural chuckle echoed through the hall.

Ku ku ku.

It came from Nioh.

The monarch released him, and he slid down the wall, coughing lightly but still smiling, as if he owned the room.

"Being a monarch must be such a curse," he said, voice hoarse but clear.

"So much power... yet bound by invisible chains. You can’t be a mother. You can’t be a protector. You bend to the will of stinking old men."

"How dare you—!" an elder began, furious.

"There’s nothing I don’t dare do," Nioh cut him off coldly.

"I have my men stationed outside. If I don’t return in twenty-four hours, they’ll declare war on Shurima."

He rose to his feet, dusting himself off casually.

Ignoring the monarch and the gasping elders, he walked toward Akrona’s bed, voice carrying across the tense, suffocating hall.

"Unlike you, I don’t care for traditions. I don’t cower behind relics of a crumbling past.

I care only for my will. And if Shurima must burn for it... so be it."

He stopped by the altar, placing a hand gently near Akrona’s unconscious form, his gaze never leaving the monarch.

"Skullcrusher Monarch," he said, his voice quieter but infinitely more dangerous,

"if you don’t care about your daughter—then give her to me.

I’ll protect her.

I promised her she could follow me.

And I will keep that promise, even if it costs me the world."

The monarch tilted her head, regarding him with an unreadable expression.

"You dare threaten me?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice now.

Nioh smiled again, sharp as a blade.

"There is nothing I don’t dare to do under the heavens."

With that, Nioh shoved the doctors aside, his hand flying over the hovering holoscreen as streams of data unfolded before him.

Akrona’s vitals were fading — steady, merciless decay.

There was no sign of improvement.

Nioh’s chest tightened.

She had lost so much weight, her face twisted in agony, lips cracked and dry.

This frail, suffering girl was not the Akrona he knew.

He clenched his fists.

He would not leave her like this.

"You can’t move her," Lithaa said, rushing to his side.

"The altar is the only thing supplying her with vitality. Without it—"

Nioh didn’t listen.

He placed his hand lightly on Akrona’s chest, reaching out with his senses to touch the heart of her biocore.

A sudden jolt of energy lashed out, throwing him back.

"How is this thing here?"

A calm, mature voice echoed in his mind — it was Ekoh.

"You recognize it?" Nioh asked.

"It’s curious... how such a tiny oyster can house so many seeds," Ekoh mused.

"Your little lover has a powerful biocore... very similar to the ones you’ve been collecting."