The Retroactive Wave

My index finger strikes the validation key. A sharp click. Axiom Zero's source code injects into the arteries of Paris-Eurythmia, returning the first Dissolved magistrate to the world. On the screen, thousands of contracts, filiations, and existences cascade into annulment. My skin temperature drops. The Perflubron flows faster through my veins, sweeping away the final remnants of Marga Volkov.

"Major security alert," Vassili announces via the encrypted link. Her words snap. "The Seven Who Reign are deploying the amputation protocol. They are cutting the relays."

The gangrene must burn, ATHENA.VICTIS dictates at the base of my skull. Protect the transmission.

The heavy vault doors open with a metallic crash. Six armed Guardians flood into the room. They ignore me entirely. Their thermal rifles align on the Alpha Register servers to sever the root of Truth.

I leap. Twenty-eight meters per second. The white marble of LEX.STATUA coats my forearms. The first shooter pulls the trigger. I activate CASSATIO. The retroactive decree strikes the weapon, annulling the action at its genesis. The energy surges backward, melting the barrel. My heel strikes the second attacker's knee. A clean joint rupture. A clinical fact, devoid of guilt.

"NEME.SYS, bandwidth is collapsing!" Vassili warns. "They are isolating the sector!"

The remaining shots rain down. I interpose myself, forming a shield of judgment in front of the data banks. The impacts gouge my cuirass. The nervous system of the Law registers structural damage. I block the line of sight, forcing the jurisprudence to rise toward the surface.

The shockwave reaches the upper level. But the squad leader steps away from the group. He presses a gravitational detonator against the load-bearing vault, right above the master cables. The digital timer lights up. He stares at me, his hand hovering over the trigger.