As Kano lost contact with the crystalline strand behind her, a multicolored pulse of light erupted from her body. The light itself was harmless, dying away after a moment. But Kano felt new strength flowing through her. She activated her force field, which now shone in the same colors as the light.

Virtur stepped back, frowning. “Why do you insist on continuing? You’re merely delaying the inevitable.”

“Well, that’s life for you, isn’t it?” Before he could respond, she put her hand straight through his chest and tore it apart. It was only enough to stop him for an instant, the time it took for him to heal, but she didn’t let up. He formed a dizzying array of appendages, each trying to break through her force field. Regardless of their form, none of them broke through. She barely noticed his feeble attempts at defense—killing him was the only thing on her mind.

Filled to the brim with newfound energy, she ripped and tore until all that was left was a bloody mess. Losing all track of time, she kept going. Her limbs grew heavy and her vision blurred, but she ignored her body. There was no joy or hatred involved, no emotion whatsoever; she was just doing what needed to be done.

Only after she’d snuffed his life out hundreds of times did the mass of flesh that remained finally stop moving. Caked in blood from head to toe, she staggered to her feet. She was victorious, but it was a hollow victory.

Killing him hadn’t fixed anything. But at least it was done. At least she could say she’d done one thing right. Her lips quirked upward into a self-deprecating smirk. Even then, it had only been possible with Thirty-Six’s help. Someone she should help rather than the other way around.

“Are you all right?” Yon asked, the sole spectator of the bloody battle.

Kano shrugged. All she knew was that she was still standing. Her body and mind were a tangled mess of pain she’d rather examine later. “I’m alive.”

“Does your force field still work after all that?”

Kano gave it a try. The generator didn’t react at all, and she shook her head. “I think it’s broken.”

“I see.” The necromancer put her hand on Kano’s arm, and it went numb. It came as a relief. She hadn’t realized how sore she was until the pain faded. Her relief lasted until Kano realized she couldn’t move her arm at all. The numbness spread through her body with alarming speed.

“What—” was all she managed before the paralysis spread to her vocal cords. Rendered helpless, all she retained was her senses and ability to think.

“A convenient little trick, don’t you think?” Yon asked. “Unfortunately, it only works on someone of your… unique nature. You’ve done well protecting the network, this relic from a bygone age.” Yon stood with her hands behind her back, speaking smoothly as if reciting a well-rehearsed speech. “But I can’t allow you to jeopardize my plans. For you see, as a result of what Thirty-Six did, I have discerned a way to utilize the network. If her synthetic soul could control the network, if only for a short time, then all I have to do is create more like her. Souls that can be inserted into the network, each with a different directive. This way I can have it do whatever I want. Though it pains me to admit I can’t reproduce what the humans built, it would be a terrible shame not to use it.”

The necromancer looked away, the hood of her robes hiding her face. “You can wait there and enjoy a hard-earned rest. You deserve it. I’ll let you go… once I’ve got things working. Then it will be too late for you to influence the outcome.” She reached out and closed Kano’s eyes.

A sudden wave of drowsiness hit Kano. She tried to resist, but she didn’t have the energy. With a silent scream, she fell into a deep sleep. The dream was different this time. Rather than being drawn into the dream, she was aware she was dreaming. Her previous dreams, of which she’d remembered very little, came back to her in perfect clarity. It wasn’t like the others—this one was more real. Like she was truly there. She could feel the tile floor beneath her feet and smell the strong chemical odor that filled the air. Had she any control over herself in the dream, she would have gagged.

All she could do was watch as she walked through the workshop. She found a certain grim humor in that even here she was helpless to influence what was happening. After having failed so completely, it felt fitting.

Stopping to check each vat of organic matter in various states of maturity, Kano realized what she’d become. She was working for a necromancer to create new minions. Or her past self had. How could she abandon everything she believed in after working so hard to help humanity? How had she gone from the pawn of a necromancer to her current self?

But the dream offered no answers. Just more questions. She cut small pieces from a few of the homogenous lumps of flesh within the vats. Carrying the samples, Kano finished with her work and left the room.

Each of the specimens was in a separate, sealed container, and she put them down on a bench in front of a dark-robed man. The same necromancer who’d given her the ultimatum to work for him or perish.

“The vats seem to be functioning properly,” Kano said. “There was nothing out of the ordinary to report, but I figured you might like to see how far the growth of the older ones has come.”

The necromancer sniffed. “I’ll look over them later. Is there anything else?”

“There’s just one other thing: I wanted to ask you about the prisoners.”

“What about them?”

“Did you consider my suggestion? That we could retain them as test subjects?”

The necromancer blinked, rubbing his rheumy eyes. “Ah, yes.” From his tone, it was clear he’d forgotten all about it. “I considered it and ultimately decided that there was no sense wasting resources on keeping those who refuse to be useful.”

“But they can still be—”

He raised his hand and cut her off.

“It’s too late to argue; they have already been disposed of. I don’t wish to hear of this matter again. Focus on your own work.”

Kano lowered her head, tears forming in her eyes as she left the necromancer’s presence. Perhaps she’d misjudged her past self. It seemed she’d still tried to preserve life. Drifting out of the dream, Kano wondered if that had been her mistake. So long as the necromancers existed, there was no hope of humans or ghouls being anything more than disposable pawns.

Yes, that had been the mistake of her current self as well. She should have killed Yon the first time she met her. Then none of this would have happened. Thirty-Six would still be alive. She woke up. It was clear what she had to do. As to how she would accomplish it, she wasn’t sure, given that she still couldn’t move. But she intended to find a way. She had to.

Using every iota of willpower she could muster, she willed her eyelids to move. They didn’t so much as twitch. Her eyes were closed, but her ears still worked. There were voices coming from nearby, engaged in a heated discussion. She recognized Rovon and Yon.

“You can’t seriously intend to put us in there,” Rovon was saying. “You know very well what happened to the other humans when they joined the network. Whatever you’re trying to achieve, this is not the way to go about it.” He sounded remarkably calm, despite his presumed predicament.

“Were I planning to do what your predecessors did, then I would agree with you. Though the process may appear similar, there’s one crucial difference: Rather than putting in souls with a will of their own, I’ll use those that have been bound to follow my directions. I don’t expect them to carry out my orders for long, just enough to get the network to do as I wish.”

Kano heard soft footsteps as Yon moved closer and continued. “It’s possible there’s a way to do so without crippling your mind, but quite frankly, I don’t have any desire to find out. You won’t retain the ability to think for all that long in terms of real time, and my patience is running out.”

Yon’s words only reinforced the conclusion Kano had reached. That Yon and all the other necromancers should be destroyed before they could cause any further harm with their mad ambitions. She concentrated, searching for some way to change what was happening.

Delving deeper into herself than ever before, she found something. Something hidden within herself. There was a tiny seam inside her, visible in her mind’s eye. She willed it to open, and bit by bit it widened. Progress started slow, accelerating until it felt like she was tearing in two. And then she did. She split into two halves. One was her, and the other she caught only a glimpse of as it broke into pieces. The other her looked exactly as she had in her dreams.

And then they were gone, absorbed by her true self. The paralysis went with them. Though she could move again, she found herself rooted to the spot. What had just happened? She felt like she’d lost an important part of herself, yet she didn’t feel any different. Maybe… No, now wasn’t the time to think about it. It was time to stop Yon and put an end to this insanity. Or at least, the insanity going on outside her own head. She chuckled; her sense of humor was unaffected.

Yon spun around to face her, mouth agape. Before she could utter a word, Kano had her by the throat.

For the first time, Kano looked into Yon’s eyes. Truly looked. They cycled through dark shades as Kano watched, but the emotions they conveyed remained constant. Yon was surprised, outraged, and most of all, she was afraid. Afraid of dying, afraid of never achieving her dream.

For the first time, Kano understood what it meant to take a life. The weight of it. Yon, herself, the humans, even Thirty-Six, they all shared the same basic nature. She was tired of all of this. Tired of killing.

She wished there was some other way, but Yon was too dangerous. And if Kano had learned anything, it was that necromancers couldn’t be reasoned with, couldn’t be trusted. With a sigh, she tightened her grip around Yon’s throat until the necromancer was no more.

Dropping the limp body on the floor, she searched for Rovon. A crude golem of steel was holding him tight. It took a considerable amount of strength on her part and squeezing on his part, but she freed him.

“Thanks,” he said, adjusting his clothes. “What do you plan to do now?” He glanced at the strands that made up the network.

“I’m going to destroy it. I was content to let it be, but now I see that nothing good can come of it. Destruction is the only responsible course of action.”

Rovon sighed. “It seems like a terrible waste.” Kano narrowed her eyes at him. “But I think you’re right,” he continued. “Allowing it to continue existing seems like too large a risk. Especially if we plan to keep living here.”

Relieved to hear someone speaking sense for once, Kano nodded. “Good. I hope you all manage to make a life for yourselves here after I’m gone.” She’d meant it as a mere pleasantry, but she was surprised to find that she really did hope things went well for them. Maybe some good would come of this after all.

“Thanks again. Do you need any help with that?” He gestured toward the network.

“I can handle it. Just… go. We probably won’t see each other again.”

“All right.” Rovon proffered his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation Kano took it, and they shook hands. “I can’t say I particularly relish our association, but it was interesting. I suppose I owe you for freeing me.” He paused by the door on his way out. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your loss.”

Kano, her eyes fixed on the network, heard the door close behind him.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, then went to work tearing the delicate crystalline strands apart. It was hard work, but she didn’t mind. If anything, she relished the opportunity. It stopped her from thinking, even if it wasn’t for long.

After dismantling the whole thing, she took one last look back before leaving. It was probably only her imagination, but she thought she heard her farewell echo back to her.