He could see the ruined continents slowly beginning to rebuild. He could see the survivors stepping out of their bunkers, blinking up at the actual, uncorrupted sun.
And he could see Sanctuary.
He zoomed in, his vision bypassing the heavy titanium walls of his Citadel, sinking straight down into the medical ward.
He saw Valerie.
The death-lock was gone. The Spite Protocol was deleted. She was no longer trapped in the translucent block of hard-light magic. She was lying on the Resurrection Altar, breathing softly, her torn azure robes slowly knitting themselves back together as her normal, localized health regeneration finally kicked in.
A profound, heavy warmth filled the swirling static of his chest. It wasn't a programmed emotional response. It was the last, enduring spark of his humanity, perfectly preserved inside his terrifying new shell.
