Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 125: - Medbay Recovery

Chapter 125: - Medbay Recovery

The medbay doors slid open with a hiss as the platform eased down. The moment they stepped in, William appeared—silent, sharp, and utterly calm, like he’d been waiting to catch the sky before it fell.

He moved without hesitation, eyes locking on Lucas’s slumped form with something dangerously close to worry buried beneath discipline. One gloved hand reached for a diagnostic reader.

"Table," he said, but his voice was lower than usual.

Ren nodded. Ava didn’t. She just held on.

They eased Lucas onto the padded surface, Ava gripping his wrist a second too long before she let go. His skin was cold. Clammy. His breath came in shallow puffs, barely sound at all.

The monitor blinked to life.

[Sync Stability: 24%]

[Blood Pressure: Dangerously Low]

[System Recovery Mode: FAILING]

Lucas groaned through clenched teeth, pain dragging him half-conscious.

Ava winced at the sound. "He’s crashing."

William was already moving. He crossed to a secured drawer, keyed in a code, and pulled something from a frost-lined compartment: a raw energy core. Dark red. Unstable.

Ava stepped forward, alarm sharp in her voice. "That’s a wild variant. You can’t use that on him."

William didn’t blink. "He knew the risks. He chose this path."

"And if it tears his system apart from the inside out?"

"Then at least he’ll still have a chance to fight back."

Lucas groaned again, this time curling slightly into himself. The sound scraped at something beneath Ava’s ribs.

William moved fast. The core snapped into Lucas’s bracer slot with a loud click.

The medbay lights dimmed. The machines shuddered. Lucas’s back arched sharply, a strangled, wordless cry escaping him.

Ava flinched.

"Lucas—"

His body glowed faint red, every vein outlined in furious light. His fingers twitched. His jaw locked.

[EMERGENCY OVERRIDE: CORE BOOST ACTIVATED]

[STABILITY: FLUCTUATING]

The glow flared bright—then pulsed. Then stabilized.

Lucas sagged back against the table, trembling, mouth slack, sweat beading along his temples.

[Sync Stability: 61%]

[Recovery Mode: RE-ENGAGED]

Ava took a step closer, eyes wide. Her hands shook, just slightly.

"He’s alive."

William exhaled slowly. "Barely."

She didn’t look at William. Just kept her eyes on Lucas.

"You shoved an unstable core into someone who was already bleeding out."

"Because he left instructions to do so."

Ava leaned against the edge of the table, voice low. "That doesn’t make it okay."

William didn’t argue.

Lucas moaned again—quieter this time. But he wasn’t slipping anymore. He was still.

Not safe.

But still.

She reached out slowly, brushed his soaked hair away from his temple with shaking fingers.

Lucas shifted again, a soft groan escaping his throat as the energy core continued to course through his system. His face was drawn tight, lips parted in pain, but even in his state, something about the way his fingers twitched looked deliberate—like his body was already calculating how far it could push.

Ava watched him, narrowing her eyes. "He’s going to do something stupid again as soon as he can stand."

William didn’t flinch. He was checking the monitor output, voice even. "That’s not a prediction, Miss Zhang. That’s just being Lucas."

Ava sighed, crossing her arms. "He’s barely back from the dead."

William moved to the side of the bed and began disengaging the monitoring lines with professional ease. "Which means he’ll want to prove he’s fine the moment he opens his eyes."

"Or reckless."

"Same coin, different faces," William said.

He checked Lucas’s pulse one more time, then slid one arm beneath his back, the other under his knees. With a grunt that was mostly habit, he lifted Lucas cleanly off the table, draping him across his shoulder like a sack of particularly difficult gold.

Ava blinked. "You’re just—okay. I guess we’re doing it the old-fashioned way."

William walked toward the lift, not even out of breath. "Master Lucas hates stretchers. Calls them ’admissions of failure.’"

Ava followed, falling into step. "He calls everything an admission of failure unless it comes with an escape plan and three backup contingencies."

"That sounds like him," William said mildly.

They reached the elevator and ascended in silence. The manor hall opened before them in warm light.

William didn’t hesitate. He moved down the corridor, turned left at the gallery, and walked through bedroom door like it was a habit born of years.

He laid Lucas down gently on the bed—top layer of blankets turned down, pillow already fluffed by someone who anticipated this kind of thing happening sooner or later.

Ava stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed again. William straightened slowly, rolled one shoulder with a quiet crack, and looked at her.

"He’s your problem now," he said simply.

Then William turn and walked out as Lucas stirred. His eyes opened, they weren’t golden.

They were dark black murky, unfocused—still stuck somewhere between system override and consciousness. He blinked hard once. Twice. And then, like someone had flipped a switch, the gold returned. Dilated. Bright. Alive.

He turned his head. Saw her.

"Hey," he rasped, voice raw.

Ava stood up fast. "Don’t move."

He grunted, half a laugh. Then winced as something deep in his side spasmed.

"Okay," he croaked. "Moving. Bad idea."

"You think?" Ava moved to the side of the bed, already scanning his vitals on the bracer panel. "You fried half your system with a variant core. You almost didn’t make it back."

Lucas blinked at her, eyes soft despite the pain. "But I did."

"Barely."

He shifted again and let out a sound that was half groan, half laugh. "Feels like my blood’s made of razors."

"That would be the core still integrating."

"Huh." He licked his lips. "Tell it to be nicer."

She rolled her eyes and adjusted the blanket around his legs. "I tried. It doesn’t take bribes."

Lucas frowned, struggling to prop himself on an elbow.

She reached out instinctively. "Don’t push it."

Too late.

His arm gave out, and he tipped sideways—directly into her.

Ava caught him, but not gracefully. He landed half in her arms, half across her chest.

"Lucas!"

"Sorry," he murmured. "Gravity’s rude."

She tried to adjust him, but his arms were already around her, loose but firm.

And then, with a surprising amount of strength, he pulled her down with him.

"Lucas—"

"Just stay," he said.

It wasn’t flirty.

Ava froze.

His head rested against her shoulder now. His breath was still shallow, but warm against her neck.

"You’re high," she said softly. "From the core."

"Probably," he agreed. "I feel like my skin’s vibrating."

"That’s because your nervous system is."

"Cool." He closed his eyes. "Can you make it stop?"

"No."

"You’re mean."

She sighed, shifting just enough to get her elbow under her.

"Lucas, I need to monitor your vitals and check the integration pathways. That requires you not cuddling me like a stuffed animal."

"You’re warm."

"You’re impossible."

His hand found hers. Threaded their fingers. Held tight.

"Not impossible," he murmured. "Just... not simple."

She paused. Watched his face.

He wasn’t teasing. Not this time.

The burn in his eyes had dulled, but not disappeared. His lips parted slightly with each breath, the corners still upturned like he was daring her to pull away. But there was no performance.

She looked down at their hands.

His thumb moved slowly across her knuckles.

"This is the core talking," she muttered, voice too soft.

"Maybe," he whispered. "Maybe not."

She blinked. "Lucas—"

He gripped her hand tighter, his voice suddenly clear despite the ragged edges. "It worked, Ava. The core—it worked. It was dying or this."

"That doesn’t mean—"

"It means we’ve been wrong. About recovery. About power. Eating the core, absorbing it—it’s the only way to survive out there."

She stared at him. "That could’ve killed you."

"It didn’t." His eyes burned now, gold flaring brighter. "And next time, I’ll need more."

"Lucas, you can’t just shove—"

"Learn it. Build for it. Make it safe. That’s your job now, Beauty."

She hated how steady his voice had gotten.

"You’re asking me to replicate what almost liquified your insides."

He gave a weak, crooked smile. "Exactly."

Then his whole body jerked once, violently. His breath hitched—eyes wide, pupils blown.

"Lucas?"

No answer.

He arched, back muscles seizing, then collapsed into her fully.

His weight hit all at once—dead-heavy.

"Lucas!"

She gripped him, panicked now. His head lolled against her shoulder, breath shallow, body trembling.

The gold in his eyes dimmed.

Still breathing. But only just.

She reached for the vitals monitor, fingers shaking.

"Stupid," she whispered. "Reckless, impossible idiot."

Her voice caught halfway through the last word. She pressed her palm flat against his chest—not because she needed to, not because it would help—but because she had to feel it. The faint rise and fall. The stuttering heartbeat.

Still there.

Barely.

"You’re not built for this," she murmured, her brow pressed to his temple. "You’re not some shifter. You can’t keep pushing past the line like it doesn’t exist."

He didn’t respond.

The only answer was the strained sound of breath dragging in, like his lungs were filled with glass.

Ava swallowed hard. Her hand moved to the side of his face, fingers trembling as she brushed away sweat-soaked strands of hair. His skin was burning up now.