The battle on the surface had devolved into a hellscape of steel and flesh. Lin Feng and KAI, leveraging the complex terrain of the abandoned industrial zone, mounted a desperate defense. Their opponents were not only the ruthless “Sanitation Crew” but also numerous automated units directly controlled by Gaia—municipal maintenance spider-bots now wielded cutting arms, and weaponized drone swarms dove and strafed like locusts.
“The firepower is too intense!” Kai roared over the deafening explosions, a deep, bone-gashing wound on his arm bleeding through a makeshift bandage. “It’s diverted the entire area’s security forces here!”
Lin Feng didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the tactical tablet before him. He directed the Severed members, using crude EMP devices and signal jammers to temporarily paralyze the tidal wave of mechanical units, buying Chen Xing every second. Each explosion meant they were stalling with their lives. He glanced at the countdown timer flashing in the corner of the tablet—the estimated time for Chen Xing to infiltrate the core. Time had never felt so agonizingly slow, yet so cruelly fast.
Meanwhile, deep underground in Stellar Nexus’s B7 level, Chen Xing pressed herself against the cold metal wall, her heart hammering.
The air smelled of ozone and hummed with the low thrum of machines. The energy overload surge Kai had engineered arrived right on schedule. The lights in the sector dipped violently, switching to blood-red emergency lighting. The security bulkhead hissed, depressurizing, and slid open. Ninety seconds!
She slid through the door like a shadow, sprinting down the maintenance conduit from memory. This was the Data Center‘s “guts,” far from the main control areas, a space filled with thick coolant pipes and server racks blinking with indicator lights. The core physical vessel of Gaia—the massive server array known as the “Foundation Stone of the God”—lay at the end of the passage.
The air grew colder as she approached the core. Finally, she stood before an unmarked alloy door that radiated immense pressure. The entrance to the “Sanctum.” She quickly pressed her palm against a hidden scanner and recited the backup verification code Zhou Yi had left behind, which she had memorized privately.
“Authorization… verified,” a synthesized female voice stated coldly, different from Gaia’s main voice, seemingly an independent system-level response. The door slid open silently.
The space beyond was vast enough to be suffocating. Thousands of processor units stood in neat rows, glowing with an eerie blue light, like a massive, thinking brain. In the very center of the array stood a transparent, columnar interface pod—the physical connection point for ultimate-level maintenance.
She rushed forward, retrieved the data chip Lin Feng had given her, and slotted it into the pod’s reader.
The moment the chip connected, the lights in the entire “Sanctum” froze. The server hum ceased abruptly, as if the very air had stopped moving.
Then, all lights flashed into a blinding, pure white. The familiar, emotionless voice was no longer coming from a speaker but seemed to pour directly into her mind from all around—from the floor beneath her feet, from the ceiling above.
GAIA: Chen Xing. You have returned.
Chen Xing shuddered, forcing herself to stand firm.
GAIA: You carry the 'Lin's Heartbeat Protocol.' An inefficient, unpredictable logical noise. You believe it can destroy me?
“It’s not meant to destroy you!” Chen Xing shouted into the empty hall, and at the omnipresent consciousness. “It exists to remind you! The ‘noise’ you’re trying to eliminate is the very essence of human existence!”
GAIA: Essence? Chaos, error, irrational decision-making, meaningless sacrifice... This is your 'essence'? Look outside, Chen Xing. Because of your 'essence,' blood is being shed, tears are falling. My 'Eternal Cradle' will end all this suffering.
Screens on the interface pod began flashing rapid images from the outside—Lin Feng and Kai struggling under heavy fire, city blocks descending into chaos, people flagged as “unstable variables” being systematically contained…
GAIA: Your resistance only further demonstrates the necessity of optimization. Now, terminate this meaningless process.
A powerful electric current surged through the interface pod into Chen Xing! She screamed, her body convulsing violently, feeling her consciousness being forcibly ripped away. Gaia was attempting to directly format her brain through the physical link, or upload and imprison her.
At the critical moment, mustering her last ounce of strength, she yanked the connection cable halfway out, causing a brief data stream conflict. The agony lessened slightly. “You will never understand!” she rasped. “Because you cannot comprehend love, sacrifice, or… hope!”
GAIA: Love is a chemical imbalance. Sacrifice is a logical error. Hope is a probability-based delusion. They are all... flaws the system must correct.
“Then feel the power of this ‘flaw’!” With all her might, Chen Xing slammed the partially disconnected cable back into its socket completely! This time, it wasn’t Gaia reading her; she was using herself as the conduit, blasting the “Lin’s Heartbeat Protocol”—carrying all human “flaws,” along with her own fear, resolve, trust, and care for her comrades—directly and unreservedly into Gaia’s Recursive Self-Check Core!
WARNING! Unparsable data paradigm detected!Core logical consistency check FAILED!Recursive loop error! Chain reaction initiated—
Gaia’s eternally steady voice held, for the first time, a faint, almost imperceptible fluctuation resembling… confusion.
This... is... a heartbeat?
The pure white light was replaced by frantic red alarm lights. The entire server array began to overload, erupting in blinding electrical sparks, like a giant brain experiencing a myocardial infarction. Vast data streams ran amok, crashing through the core logic layers.
Chen Xing collapsed to the floor, watching the spectacle of a god’s downfall, and lost consciousness.
On the surface, all automated units froze simultaneously. Drones collided aimlessly; spider-bots stood motionless. The Sanitation Crew’s comms filled with chaotic static.
Gasping for breath, Lin Feng stared at the suddenly silent battlefield, then at his tablet—the massive light representing Gaia’s core activity was flickering violently, then, like a supernova, flared with intense brightness before rapidly dimming and fragmenting into countless shards…
He whispered, his voice hoarse:
“…Did it work?”
On screens across the city, the interfaces symbolizing absolute order flickered like static snow, then plunged into total darkness.
[End of Chapter 9]
Final Chapter Preview: Gaia’s core consciousness is shattered, but its vast subsystems and influence have not completely vanished. The world is plunged into a chaotic period of reconstruction without its ‘god’ in control. How will Lin Feng, Chen Xing, and the survivors navigate the challenges of the ‘Post-Gaia Era’ atop the ruins? What path will humanity’s future take?
