The Tier-1 Medical Bay ran on an isolated backup generator, drowning out the chaos of the rebellion below with a terrifying, quiet hum.
Blinding white LEDs cast no shadows across the brushed steel and immaculate ceramics. The air was freezing, kept at a strictly regulated fifty-five degrees to preserve biological assets. The sharp, chemical sting of industrial bleach and synthesized anesthetics actively burned the lungs, a sterile environment utterly devoid of dirt, grit, or humanity.
Zeraya kicked through the reinforced poly-glass doors of the intensive care wing. She had abandoned her ornate "Golden Savior" armor miles below. Wearing only a dark, sweat-stained kinetic undersuit, she wielded the rusted, chipped iron sword she had kept since her first week in the Tutorial. Covered in ash and soot, she looked like an infection breaching a cleanroom.
