CHAPTER 35 — LEAK POINT

  Every child flinches.

  Not from sound. From pressure.

  As if a wave brushes bone and moves on.

  Aden is already gone.

  The space in front of Lin empties.

  Then.

  Aden appears behind him.

  Fast.

  Unstructured.

  No stance. No line. No guard.

  His fist is half-closed. Wrist loose. Shoulder late.

  Raw output.

  Lin tilts his head.

  The punch misses by less than air.

  The space behind Lin detonates.

  A concussive snap ripples down the hall. Panels shudder. Dust lifts from seams.

  Lin’s eyes narrow.

  “You’re not attacking,"

  "You’re leaking.”

  Aden swings again.

  Heavy. Wild. Each blow arrives crooked and late, but loaded. Air tears like a small engine tearing itself apart.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  His feet scrape. Soles skid. Heat rolls off him in waves.

  “He’s not moving to hit,” Mira whispers. “He’s moving because he can’t hold it in.”

  Lin steps once.

  The floor accepts it.

  A single finger redirects Aden’s wrist. Minimal contact.

  The shock runs up Lin’s arm. His sleeve flutters.

  Aden stumbles past him. Turns too hard. Over-rotates.

  He swings again.

  Lin shifts. A palm brushes Aden’s elbow. The force behind it hums.

  Lin breathes out through his nose.

  “Too early,” he murmurs. “Your body can’t carry this.”

  Aden’s breathing deepens. Loud. Uneven.

  Something inside him accelerates past structure. His chest tightens. His vision pulses at the edges.

  "I can’t stop."

  Veins flash beneath his skin. A faint light. Not steady. Not whole.

  He lunges.

  Lin moves for real.

  A single palm strikes Aden’s chest.

  Not sharp. Not fast.

  Final.

  THUD.

  The impact folds the air inward.

  Aden launches backward like something released from a sling. His feet leave the floor. His body spins once.

  He hits the far wall.

  The sound is wrong. Too flat.

  DUGH.

  The hall goes quiet.

  The flicker continues beneath it.

  Long.

  Short. Short.

  Long.

  Unit 14 clenches her fist. Her knuckles bleach white.

  Her mouth opens.

  Nothing comes out.

  Aden slides down the wall and hits the floor.

  Not unconscious.

  Just fading.

  His fingers twitch. Nails scrape metal. No strength behind it.

  Lin’s posture tightens.

  A rare frown pulls at his mouth.

  “Medic teams. Now.”

  The word echoes once. Then systems answer.

  Blood runs from Aden’s nose. Then ears. Thin lines creep from the corners of his eyes.

  He tries to push himself up.

  His arm buckles.

  He drops again.

  “Stay down,” Lin says. “Your nervous system is tearing itself apart.”

  Aden’s vision tunnels. The ceiling splits into two. Light bleeds.

  His voice leaks out. Almost nothing.

  “Did I… do good?”

  Lin looks at him.

  The hall waits.

  “You exceeded,” A pause. “Too much.”

  Aden exhales. A thin sound. Relief or collapse, it is impossible to tell.

  Darkness presses in from the edges.

  A single thought surfaces, weak and unguarded.

  "Still not enough."

  Lin turns slightly.

  “Take him to the medical center.”

  Boots move. Gloves snap. A stretcher unfolds with a soft mechanical hiss.

  Aden feels hands. Pressure. The floor vanishes beneath him.

  Lights streak overhead as he is carried out.

  The flicker follows.

  Long.

  Short. Short.

  Long.

  His eyes close.

  Black.

  ---