Chapter 86: Chapter 84 Milliseconds of Destiny

The silence that followed Narka’s account was not an immediate void, but a dense presence that slowly settled over the devastated park of the Veil as if the words spoken by the guardian still remained suspended in the air, unable to dissipate completely. The nonexistent wind moved nothing, the surroundings remained the same destroyed field that had been the stage of the battle that Narka had just described, but now all of it carried a different weight, one that did not come from the visible destruction but from the understanding of what had occurred. In front of them, the pillar of spiritual energy continued to rise toward the sky of the Veil with that unnatural mixture of darkness and liquid luminosity that ran through its veins in violet spirals, and within that flow, suspended at its center, the cocoon remained intact, indifferent to the tension that now dominated the space.

Narka’s Qi spheres rotated slowly around Virka and Selena, forming an invisible barrier that filtered the spiritual pressure emanating from the manifestation of the Elazria. That pressure was not aggressive, it did not attempt to crush or expel, but its mere existence was enough to alter the internal balance of any being that was not prepared to withstand it. Within the guardian’s protection, both of them could remain standing without their bodies or minds being subjected to the direct influence of that presence, but even so, the sensation of standing before something that transcended the laws of the world was impossible to ignore.

Selena did not take her gaze off the pillar.

Her eyes, cold and precise, scanned every visible detail as if trying to decompose the scene into comprehensible parts, searching for patterns, relationships, points of rupture within a phenomenon that clearly did not respond to conventional rules. The information that Narka had exposed did not accumulate in her mind as an emotional weight, but as a set of variables that had to be ordered, understood, and used. The existence of the Elazria, the nature of the world outside the universal fabric, the function of an avatar, the condition of Valentina’s soul; each of those elements rearranged itself within her thoughts with a methodical speed that left no room for panic or denial.

Her concern was real, but it did not manifest as an impulsive reaction, but as a contained tension that fueled her need to understand.

If the Elazria could not be confronted, then the problem was not defeating it.

If Valentina was not being destroyed, but restructured, then the process was not a conventional attack.

If that world was outside the fabric of the universe, then solutions that depended on universal laws might not apply.

Each conclusion led to another, each line of thought connected to the next while her gaze remained fixed on the cocoon suspended within the spiritual flow. There were too many unknown variables, but there was also a certainty she could not ignore: if that process continued without intervention, Valentina would cease to be what she was, and whatever emerged from that cocoon would not necessarily preserve the identity they were trying to protect.

For an instant, her mind brushed against another line of thought.

The robots.

The technology they had displayed, the perfect coordination among them, the way they had been able to intervene in an event of that scale. They were not improvised entities nor random forces; they were the result of a structure, of an origin, of an intelligence that operated behind them. Recovering fragments, analyzing them, tracing their origin, replicating their technology; all of that formed within her mind in a matter of seconds, outlining a possible path to understand a future threat that clearly had not ended with its destruction in Narka’s account.

But she discarded that line immediately.

Not due to lack of importance, but due to priority.

None of that mattered at that moment.

Valentina did.

All her attention returned to the pillar.

The immediate problem was not the origin of the robots nor the technological implications of their existence; the problem was the active process that was occurring in front of her, and the window of time they had to intervene before that process reached an irreversible point.

At her side, Virka remained silent.

Her body no longer showed the same fragility it had had after her previous combat; the visible wounds had largely disappeared and her posture had regained that firm stability that defined her presence when she was fully aware of her surroundings. However, what emanated from her was not calm.

It was tension.

Not a dispersed or chaotic tension, but a concentrated pressure that accumulated within her as if something were being contained by sheer will. Her eyes were fixed on the cocoon, and unlike Selena’s analytical gaze, in Virka’s there was no search for answers nor reconstruction of information; there was a direct, simple and absolute intention.

To take Valentina out.

No matter the cost.

No matter the nature of whatever stood in the way.

Her breathing was steady, but each inhalation seemed to carry with it an amount of energy that did not manifest externally, and each exhalation was contained, controlled, as if any release of that internal pressure could trigger a reaction that even she herself was restraining. The presence of the Elazria did not make her step back, but it was not ignored either; it was there, recognized, registered as a threat that could not be confronted directly without consequences that could not be calculated.

That did not mean she was not willing to do it.

It meant she had not yet decided how.

Narka’s Qi spheres rotated around her, maintaining that invisible barrier that separated her presence from the spiritual pressure of the entity before them. Within that protected space, Virka took a barely perceptible step forward, reducing the distance between her and the pillar as if her body were responding to an impulse that did not need to be verbalized. She did not speak. She did not ask. She did not seek confirmation.

She simply moved forward.

Selena noticed it.

Her gaze shifted briefly toward Virka, evaluating not only her position but the internal state that that small action revealed. It was not a loss of control, but it was dangerously close to becoming one. The difference between them was clear in that moment: one analyzed, the other was ready to act.

And yet, both were looking at the same point.

The cocoon.

The flow of spiritual energy continued to rotate around that small suspended form, the violet veins moved in constant spirals while the dark structure of the pillar maintained its stability as if nothing that occurred around it had the capacity to affect it. Within that process, Valentina remained motionless, trapped in a transformation that could not be perceived directly, but whose magnitude had become clear after Narka’s words.

The silence between them was not empty.

It was preparation.

Selena kept her gaze fixed on the cocoon without blinking, not because time had stopped again, but because her mind had reached a point where every relevant variable had already been processed and ordered with absolute precision, eliminating everything unnecessary until only that which could become action remained. She did not need to go over Narka’s account again nor reconstruct what had happened; the information was already integrated, turned into a functional structure where each element occupied an exact position within a system that did not allow errors. The flow of the pillar was not stable in the conventional sense, but it was not chaotic either; there were micro-intervals where the energy reorganized itself, transition points imperceptible to any ordinary perception, but sufficient to create a single real possibility of intervention. “The only option is to intervene at the exact point where the flow reorganizes around the cocoon,” she finally said, her voice low, firm, completely aligned with the internal rhythm of her thoughts, without dramatism or doubt, as if she were describing an operation already calculated. “It is not about opening the entire pillar, but about forcing a localized interruption at the precise point where Valentina is; a minimal opening, just enough to extract the cocoon before the system regains its stability.”

She did not stop.

She did not need to.

Each word already contained the next.

“It must be done within a window of time of less than a second,” she continued, without taking her eyes off the spiritual flow, her attention focused on that which could not be seen directly, but inferred from the behavior of the energy. “Open, extract and exit the Veil before the flow reacts; any delay implies that the structure will close in on itself and the attempt will fail immediately.” She was not proposing an uncertain possibility, she was defining an exact procedure, a sequence that, under normal conditions, would be executable with sufficient precision.

But that was not a normal condition.

Selena knew it.

And she did not hide it.

“And even so... it is not viable,” she added without changing her tone, without breaking the continuity of her analysis, as if that conclusion were not a defeat, but simply the logical result of incorporating the last variable. “While the manifestation of the Elazria is observing the pillar, any attempt will be detected before it is completed; it does not respond to speed, nor to technique, nor to execution; there is no margin where it can be surpassed, because its perception is not limited by the time that we measure.” Her gaze did not move, but the firmness of her voice made it clear that this was not an estimate, it was a certainty. “It is not a problem of capability; it is a problem of hierarchy.”

The weight of that conclusion did not need to be reinforced.

Narka understood it the very instant it was spoken.

The guardian remained silent for a few seconds, not because he needed to reflect, but because he was verifying, from his own experience, that there was no contradiction within that reasoning. His golden eyes remained on the pillar while his consciousness evaluated not only what Selena had said, but what he himself had witnessed in the previous confrontation. When he spoke, his voice was grave, contained, free of any intention to soften reality. “It is correct,” he affirmed with an absolute simplicity that left no room for alternative interpretations. “Even if the execution is perfect, even if the point is found without error, its presence makes it impossible to complete the process.” It was not a personal limitation. It was a fact.

That statement was the point where Virka’s restraint stopped holding.

The tension that had remained accumulated within her, contained by sheer will since they had arrived at the park, broke at that instant without turning into chaos, but into something more dangerous: a directed, intense emotion, incapable of accepting the conclusion that had just been imposed. “So we’re not going to do anything?” she let out, her voice loaded, without adornment, without apparent control, but still sustained by a will that did not allow her to completely lose balance. She did not look at Selena. She did not look at Narka. Only at the cocoon. “We’re going to stay here... watching how they transform her... while we do nothing?” she repeated, and this time the pressure in her words was not a question, it was a denial trying to break the logic that had been imposed on her.

Her body moved forward just one step, minimal, but enough to show that her instinct was beginning to impose itself over any calculation.

It was not irrational.

It was direct.

It was dangerous.

The energy within her did not release, but concentrated, tensing every fiber of her presence as if she were one instant away from acting without waiting for a response.

Selena did not stop her.

Narka did not either.

Because both understood that intervening at that moment would not change Virka’s state.

And then it happened.

There was no transition.

There was no warning.

The voice appeared directly in the minds of the three, at the same time, without passing through the air or generating any vibration, as if it had been placed inside their consciousness without the need for a medium.

“Selena... is right.”

The voice was weak.

But impossible to confuse.

Narka did not move, but his attention focused completely.

Selena did not speak, but her analysis stopped immediately.

Virka went still.

Sebastián.

The presence of his voice did not fill the space nor alter the surroundings; it did not carry the weight of a released power, but the strain of someone who was holding something that he should not be able to hold in his state. Even so, every word was clear. “At this moment... it is impossible to take her out of the pillar,” he continued, confirming what had already been established, without trying to soften it, without offering immediate comfort, but without stopping there. There was a brief pause, not dramatic, but necessary, as if each word required passing through a constant resistance before forming. “But... with all of you here... exactly as you must be... it is possible.”

The meaning was not explained.

But it was enough.

Selena did not interrupt.

Because she understood it was not a hypothesis.

It was a precise condition.

“I know how to deal with the manifestation... thanks to Him,” Sebastián added, and that last word was not developed, it did not need to be at that moment, because its weight did not depend on its definition, but on the certainty with which it was spoken. “Everything... is happening... as He said.”

The silence that followed was not empty.

It was expectant.

The point where something was about to change.

Sebastián’s voice did not dissipate after breaking into the minds of the three, but neither did it expand; it remained contained, sustained by a will that clearly operated at the limit of what his state allowed, as if each word had to pass through a constant resistance before forming clearly. There was no emotional urgency in his tone, but there was an undeniable pressure that did not come from fear, but from the time that continued advancing without stopping within the process that was taking place in the pillar. His body remained anchored to that flow, in a meditative position, with his hands connected to the spiritual energy while the seven red seven-pointed stars rotated around a black vortex that absorbed and reorganized the essence that passed through it; from that point, where his existence was held in unstable balance, was where he spoke from, not as someone proposing an idea, but as someone executing something that had already been defined before that moment.

“I am going to use an artifact,” he said without detours, integrating his words with the same precision with which Selena had constructed her analysis, without adding unnecessary details that would not change the execution, “it does not belong to this world, nor to its rules, and it also cannot be used more than once without consequences.” He did not explain its origin, he did not describe its form, because that was not relevant within the margin they had; the only thing that mattered was what it could do. “That artifact invokes a power that will enclose the manifestation of the Elazria for five seconds.” The statement was not adorned nor exaggerated; it was direct, limited, aware of what it implied. “It does not destroy her, it does not weaken her permanently; it only contains her.” There was a minimal pause before adding what truly defined that move. “When those five seconds end, she will be released... and the interference will be perceived as a direct aggression.”

No one interrupted.

There was no space to do so.

“If at that point the plan has not been completed,” he continued, maintaining the same firm tone despite the evident strain behind each word, “there will not be a second opportunity; the manifestation of the Elazria will respond as an enemy... it will destroy our souls.” The way he said it was not metaphorical nor exaggerated; it was literal, and the weight of that statement settled on the three of them without the need for further explanation. “There will be nothing left that can be recovered.”

The plan did not stop there.

“To activate that power I need two seconds,” he added, and that figure was not presented as a wide margin, but as a critical point where everything could fail. “During those two seconds, the manifestation will feel the threat; it will not react with processing time like us... it will know in the instant it begins.” It was not a warning; it was a condition. “At that moment, I will interfere with its core... not to destroy it, but to force it to focus its attention on me and not on the pillar.” That was not a direct attack; it was a controlled provocation that could only be sustained for an instant.

The next part of the plan was assigned without hesitation.

“Narka,” he said, and his voice did not call, but defined function, “at the exact moment the artifact activates, you will have to take me out of here; I cannot remain connected to the pillar after starting the process.” He did not explain why; it was not necessary. “It must be at the precise instant... neither before, nor after.” The precision was not a recommendation. It was mandatory.

Then, without breaking the flow, he continued.

“Selena, you will calculate the milliseconds,” he indicated with absolute clarity, without raising his voice, but hardening the weight of the instruction, “not seconds... milliseconds; the exact point at which the activation occurs and the moment in which Narka must intervene; any error will break the synchronization of the process.” He added nothing more. There was no need. “You cannot fail.”

The last piece was placed.

“When the manifestation is contained and the pillar begins to collapse, you will have five seconds,” he said, now directed at Virka, without softening the harshness of the limit, “during that interval you must enter, take the cocoon and exit; there will be no repetition.” The clarity of that instruction eliminated any doubt. “Narka will accelerate your movement using his domain of time, in the same way he does in combat, altering the relationship between your action and the environment; Selena will adjust that interval... you execute.”

The plan closed.

But the limit that defined everything still remained.

“Listen to this carefully,” he continued, and this time the pressure in his voice became more evident, not due to emotion, but due to the proximity of the point where there would be no return, “to execute the plan... you have five minutes to initiate it.” The difference was not minor. It was absolute. “If you do not begin within that margin, the process will be completed, and when that happens, Valentina will no longer be able to be recovered... because she will no longer be the same.”

The silence that followed was not doubt.

It was assimilation.

Sebastián did not allow that moment to drift.

“You will doubt,” he added, anticipating that before it took form, “not of me... but of this... of where this plan comes from, of how it is possible that I have this information.” The clarification was precise. “It is not something I have deduced here... this was given to me.” The pause was brief. “He gave it to me.”

He did not explain more.

It was not the moment.

“There is no other option in this state,” he concluded finally, without imposing, without insisting, because he was not presenting alternatives, “either we do it... or we lose her.”

Selena did not respond with words, but her gaze changed; the analysis stopped searching for possibilities and began to organize execution. Narka inclined his head slightly, not in doubt, but in acceptance of the action he had to carry out at the exact moment. Virka did not speak, but the tension in her body ceased to be containment and became direction.

The decision had already been made.

Selena did not speak again immediately after the decision was made, not because there was doubt, but because everything that had to be done had ceased to be a possibility and had become a process that demanded absolute precision. Her gaze remained fixed on the pillar, but she was no longer observing its external form nor the intensity of its energy, but the internal patterns of the flow that sustained it, the way in which the energy reorganized itself in cycles that could not be perceived directly, but could be anticipated through the minimal variation in its behavior. She was not seeing the pillar; she was reading its structure. Each oscillation, each change in density, each transition within that flow became a point of reference within her mind, where time ceased to be a continuous measure and fragmented into increasingly smaller intervals, until the difference between a second and an instant ceased to have meaning and only that which could be executed with exactitude remained.

The environment did not change.

But her perception of it did.

The movement of Narka’s Qi spheres, the constant pressure of the manifestation of the Elazria, the apparent stability of the pillar, all of that was relegated to the background while her mind reduced reality to a sequence of synchronizable events. The margin that Sebastián had given was not wide, it did not allow rehearsal nor correction; it was a single execution, and it had to be perfect. The point of activation of the artifact, the instant in which the attention of the Elazria would shift, the exact moment in which Narka had to intervene, the window in which Virka could move without being intercepted; everything had to align into a single line of action where no desynchronization existed.

Her breathing stabilized even further.

Not due to calm.

Due to control.

Time began to compress within her perception.

Not externally.

Internally.

Seconds ceased to be complete units and fragmented into increasingly precise divisions, where each millisecond acquired its own value within the sequence she was constructing. The position of the cocoon within the flow was fixed as the central point, and from there everything began to organize: Virka’s distance, the most direct trajectory, the time it would take to pass through the collapse of the pillar, the expected response of the environment when forced, the minimal deviation that could be allowed without compromising the extraction. Nothing was left out. Nothing could be left out.

Narka did not interrupt.

He did not ask.

But his attention changed.

He was no longer observing the environment.

He was observing Selena.

Not out of dependence.

Out of synchronization.

He knew that his intervention would not depend on his strength nor on his speed, but on his ability to act at the exact point where reality would allow that action to have effect. His domain of time was not a technique that could be applied without reference; it required a precise moment where his intervention did not break the sequence, but completed it. His posture did not change, but his presence became denser, more contained, as if all his capability were being concentrated into a single instant that had not yet arrived.

Virka did not speak either.

But her body stopped advancing.

Not because the tension had disappeared, but because it was now being directed.

Her muscles were not relaxed, they were ready.

Her breathing was not irregular, it was contained.

Her gaze remained fixed on the cocoon, but no longer from the desperation that had arisen before, but from a determination that did not need words to sustain itself. She was not thinking about the plan as a complete structure; she did not need to. There was only one part that belonged to her, and all her focus concentrated on that single moment: enter, take, exit. Nothing more.

The pressure in the environment did not decrease.

But it changed in nature.

It was no longer only the presence of the Elazria.

It was the accumulation of something that was about to happen.

Selena closed her eyes.

Not to disconnect.

To eliminate the unnecessary.

The image of the pillar remained in her mind with more clarity than if she were seeing it directly, and within that representation, each variation of the flow became a signal. The pattern was there. It had always been there. She only needed to align it with the rest of the variables. The instant where the flow reorganized itself enough to allow a minimal opening appeared within her perception as a microscopic fracture within an apparently continuous structure.

That was the point.

But identifying it was not enough.

It had to be synchronized with everything else.

The start of the artifact.

The reaction of the Elazria.

Narka’s intervention.

Virka’s movement.

Everything.

The margin of error was nonexistent.

Time continued advancing.

Not in a perceptible way.

But it was advancing.

Selena opened her eyes.

Her gaze did not seek confirmation.

She did not need to.

Everything was already in place.

“The window appears at irregular intervals, but there is an underlying pattern,” she finally said, her voice low, firm, completely aligned with what she had constructed, without hesitation or doubt, “the next coincidence with the activation point will be in less than thirty seconds.” It was not an estimate. It was a closed calculation. “When it occurs, the activation must begin exactly at that instant; not before, not after.” Her gaze shifted slightly, not to ask, but to confirm that both were ready to act within that margin. “Narka, your intervention will be at the moment when the activation signal reaches its maximum point; not when it begins, not when it ends; at the peak.” The precision of that instruction left no room for interpretation. “Virka, you will have five real seconds... but within the acceleration they will be perceived as more; do not stop, do not adjust, do not look back; enter, take the cocoon and exit.”

She added nothing more.

There was no need.

The flow continued.

The pattern was approaching.

The pressure in the environment increased.

Not because of the Elazria.

Because of the point that was approaching.

Selena did not take her eyes off.

Narka did not move.

Virka did not hesitate.

And then, when the instant aligned with everything that had been calculated, Selena spoke one last time, without raising her voice, without dramatism, with an absolute precision that did not allow error.

“Now.”

_____________________________________________

END OF Chapter 84

The path continues...

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