NOVEL WEB Chapter 63: Chapter 51
The emergency lights flicker, casting jagged shadows along the metal-paneled walls. The air is thick with tension, the silence broken only by the distant hum of machinery.
Alexander strides forward, boots echoing against the cold floor. His jaw is set—focused."Split up. Find all of them."
Six, Griffin, and Freya exchange a glance, nod, and disperse—each vanishing into different corridors like shadows.
Suddenly—A DOZEN MOGADORIANS round the corner ahead, their black armor gleaming under the cold fluorescent light.
Their eyes with no pupils or irises, completely black. They have circles around their eyes lock onto him. A tense beat.
Then—THEIR BLASTERS HUM TO LIFE.
FWOOOSH! FWOOOSH!
Lances of searing red energy streak toward Alexander.
But—he doesn't dodge.
Instead—the blasts connect.
And reality fractures.
The blasts connect, but instead of tearing through him, his body fractures into overlapping afterimages, each one slightly out of sync with reality.
Distortions ripple outward, as if time is stuttering.
His form lags behind, then snaps forward in an instant.
His form fractures and reassembles, like a distorted film reel.
The Mogadorians hesitate. Confusion flickers in their alien eyes.
The Mogadorians hesitate—confused. Their weapons lower just slightly.
Alexander moves.
He lunges forward, the stored energy detonating outward as his first punch lands with the force of every absorbed blast.
A Mogadorian is sent flying, his armor cracking midair before he slams into the wall.
Another enemy fires—point-blank.
Alexander twists, his fractured afterimages momentarily outpacing him, and the plasma bolt veers off-course, striking one of their own instead. He pivots, his body still flickering in and out of sync with time.
A final Mogadorian tries to strike him with the butt of his blaster—
Alexander is already behind him.
His hand crackles with stored energy before he unleashes it point-blank—sending the soldier hurtling backward like a ragdoll.
Silence.
The echoes fade. Alexander's form stabilizes.
He exhales, the faint hum of absorbed energy still radiating beneath his skin. His eyes flick up, sharp, focused.
He talks to everyone through his telepathy link."Hallway's clear. Moving forward."
As Alexander senses another squad approaching, his eyes narrow—his body momentarily phasing in and out of focus as if attuned to the shift in the air.
Then—he simply raises a hand.
From his palm, a shimmering distortion erupts—not light, not energy, but pure molecular rearrangement.
Air particles coalesce, rapidly assembling into a thin, undulating stream of molecules, vibrating at a high-frequency resonance.
The molecules sharpen into shimmering, translucent blades, appearing like liquid metal suspended in the air, refracting light in chaotic patterns.
Micro-pulses of energy ripple along their edges, warping the space around them.
The blades hover, vibrating like tuning forks, before launching forward in a controlled arc.
The Mogadorian Vatborns round the corner—weapons barely raised before—
SHIIINK.
The blades slice through the air, moving faster than the eye can track.
The first Mogadorian's head detaches cleanly, his body still mid-step before crumpling.
SHIIINK. SHIIINK.
More blades zigzag through the squad, severing heads with surgical precision, leaving no wasted movement.
The final blade stops midair for a fraction of a second—
Then flickers forward at hypersonic speed, cleanly finishing the last soldier.
Silence. The air still hums from the molecular disturbance.
The blades disassemble, dissolving back into the atmosphere—as if they were never there.
Alexander lowers his hand, his face impassive.
Then—he continues forward, without a second thought.
The room is bathed in a dim, sterile glow from flickering holographic screens. Monitors hum, their displays casting a pale blue light over the Mogadorian commander, who stands rigid in the center—alone.
His black, pupil-less eyes lock onto Alexander as he enters. The commander's ashy white skin and jagged teeth are unmistakable, the tattoos on his head signifying his rank as commander.
A tense beat.
Then—he raises his blaster.
Before the commander can fire, his body seizes up. His muscles lock, his finger frozen over the trigger.
The air around him distorts subtly, as if space itself is resisting his movement.
His expression shifts—first confusion, then pure fear.
His chest trembles, his breath shallow as his own body betrays him.
Alexander doesn't even spare him a glance.
He walks past him—calm, deliberate.
Security feeds flicker as he approaches the console. With a simple wave of his hand, the monitors rapidly cycle through footage—until he finds it.
Number Five. Accompanied by the former greeter, Ethan, approaching the base.
Alexander mutters under his breath:
"So he has turned."
A flick of his fingers— Streams of data pulse outward from the consoles, flowing directly into his PDA.
The screens glitch violently as data is ripped away at the speed of thought.
Then—a final surge.Every file. Every trace. Erased.
The screens flash red, then go dark. A low hum resonates as the entire system wipes itself clean.
Alexander turns back to the frozen Mogadorian.
The commander's eyes are wide with horror, his breath ragged.
Alexander simply smiles—then reaches out. His fingertip touches the Mogadorian's forehead.
Then— A whispering, crackling sound as the Mogadorian's skin turns to dust, veins breaking apart at a microscopic level.
Spreading outward, his entire body disassembles—molecule by molecule.
His features dissolve, collapsing in on themselves in a silent, irreversible unraveling of matter. The dust drifts to the floor—and the Mogadorian is gone.
Alexander lowers his hand, satisfied.
Without another word, he turns and walks out—leaving only empty silence behind.