Oblivion's Throne-Chapter 86: Convergent

Valeria's gaze remained fixed on the data stream, her voice measured but laced with something unreadable. "Your Xenothalamus was never meant to stabilize—not like this. Not while interfacing with the Pythia System."

Orion's fingers curled slightly against his palm as he placed a hand against his chin, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "Could my age be a factor? Could that be why this is happening now?" His voice was low, almost as if he were voicing a thought that had only just surfaced.

Valeria didn't look at him yet. Her mind was elsewhere—on the implications, the anomalies. With a flick of her wrist, the scan deepened. A larger display materialized: a breakdown of mutation efficiency, Hekatryon synchronization, Gensis markers.

There.

An anomaly. A signature hidden within the layers of his DNA, something beyond the expected interference of the Genesis strain. Valeria's pupils dilated just slightly, the closest she ever came to surprise.

Valeria's breath hitched—a rare break in her composure. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing as if the data might change under scrutiny. "Impossible..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with something between awe and unease.

Varun stepped closer, his gaze flicking between Valeria and the data, reading the tension in her expression before speaking. "What exactly are we looking at?" His voice was calm, measured—but there was an edge to it, a rare trace of unease.

She exhaled through her nose, not in frustration, but in something closer to fascination. Orion's genetic sequence was adapting. Adjusting dynamically.

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Valeria exhaled slowly, her gaze sharp it finally landed on Orion. "By all logic, the Pythia System should have rejected you," she said, her voice measured, yet carrying an undercurrent of something almost reverent. "And yet... it didn't just stabilize your mutation—it accepted it. Integrated it. Instead of shutting down your Xenothalamus, it adapted to it."

Ren's brows drew together, her voice quieter now, laced with suspicion. "And what exactly does that mean?"

Valeria's expression didn't change, but Orion caught the flicker in her eyes—the gleam of discovery, of raw scientific intrigue. It was rare to see his mother truly captivated by something she hadn't accounted for.

She turned back to the data, her voice thoughtful, almost distant. "The Pythia System was never meant to adapt like this... It operates on pattern recognition, aligning what it encounters with what it already understands. But this—" she gestured at the screen, eyes narrowing, "—this isn't just stabilization. It's rewriting its own parameters to accommodate something new."

Her fingers flicked through the projections, pulling up the comparative sequences. She isolated the point of deviation, magnifying it until it filled the entire holo-display.

Orion leaned forward, his gaze locked onto the spiraling helix, a thread of unease weaving into his voice. "What exactly am I looking at?"

For a fraction of a second, Valeria hesitated.

Valeria's gaze lingered on the spiraling helix for a moment longer before she spoke. "It's a convergence," she murmured.

Varun let out a slow breath, his gaze sharpening. "Meaning what, exactly?" His voice held more than just curiosity—it was a need for real answers.

Her gaze flicked to Orion, her voice soft but filled with a sense of amazement, like she was seeing something for the first time. "Your body is forging a path neither side of this war ever foresaw." She turned back to the screen, eyes narrowing. "It's not choosing between them—it's weaving them together into something entirely new."

Ren stiffened, her voice hushed yet edged with something unreadable. "You're telling me... he can wield both?"

Valeria's lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line as she exhaled through her nose. Her gaze flickered over the data, but her mind was elsewhere—mapping out consequences, weighing possibilities. What this meant for the Pythea System, for the very foundation of everything she had devoted her past five years to unravel. A shift like this... it wasn't just unexpected. It was paradigm-shattering.

Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter now, almost reverent.

"It's not just that he can wield both," she murmured, her gaze locked onto the spiraling helix. "It's that he embodies them—both forces fused into something never accounted for."

Varun exhaled, stepping away from the floating data projections. Varun's sharp eyes darted to Orion, studying him with a quiet intensity, not just seeing. "We were focused on Sensoria," he said, his voice low, deliberate. "But I think It's time to set it aside."

Orion blinked, his expression caught between confusion and intrigue. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Varun crossed his arms, his gaze steady as he met Orion's eyes. "You heard me," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Forget Sensoria. You need to train in Hekatryon instead."

Valeria's gaze shifted to Varun, her curiosity evident in the slight tilt of her head. "I agree," she said, her voice thoughtful yet laced with caution. "But do you truly believe he's prepared for such a change?"

Orion frowned, his gaze shifting between them, searching for an explanation. "Why?" he asked, his voice edged with uncertainty. "Sensoria has always been what I excel at."

Varun tilted his head, his gaze steady as he studied Orion. "True. That has always been your strength," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "But things changed now."

He tapped his own chest lightly, as if to emphasize the point. "You're not just human anymore, Orion. Your body is already changing."

Ren's voice cut through the air, still laced with tension from earlier. "You mean the bestial DNA he's going to integrate with."

Varun nodded. "Exactly." He turned back to Orion. "Think about it. Sensoria enhances the body—makes you stronger, faster, more efficient. But with your genetic structure? That's already going to happen naturally."

He gestured toward the holo-display where his genetic adaptation had been outlined. "Your body is built for change. You don't need Sensoria to push you past human limitations."

Varun continued, his tone shifting—less lecturing, more insistent. "But Hekatryon? That's different." He stepped closer, eyes locked onto Orion's. "If you can wield it, it'll give you the edge you've been looking for."

Varun's smirk was sharp, almost wolfish. "Because Hekatryon doesn't just enhance the body—it bends the world around you." He tapped the air, emphasizing the words. "Speed, strength, endurance? You're going to get all of that whether you train Sensoria or not. But controlling external forces? Shaping the battlefield itself? That's what Hekatryon does."

Valeria observed quietly, but Orion could tell she was listening closely.

Orion's mind raced. Wielding Hekatryon and Sensoria had been his idea at first, but the time in the forest had changed him.

He had learned how fragile humans were—how fragile he was. The forest had stripped him of illusions, forced him to confront the limits of flesh and bone. Even with Sensoria, he had barely survived.

Fighting from a distance, leaving himself open, relying on fleeting advantages—that wasn't his style. The forest had shown him the brutal truth of survival.

There was no room for hesitation, no second chances. He needed something solid, something that let him take control of the battlefield rather than merely reacting to it.

He had to dictate the flow of combat, to turn every movement into a calculated assertion of dominance. He couldn't afford to be on the defensive anymore. If he was going to survive—no, if he was going to win—he had to become the kind of fighter who shaped the battlefield itself.