Corrupted Bonds
Chapter 111: Soft Erasure

Chapter 111: Chapter 111: Soft Erasure

The world continued to hold Rowan gently—too gently. Mornings began with stillness: golden light pouring through windows, the smell of tea steeping in the mess hall, soft laughter echoing down corridors. Lucian would greet him with a half-smile and a brush of fingers across his back, grounding him in the moment.

Training was focused but never exhausting. No injuries, no alarms. Every team member executed with precision and clarity, and Rowan never had to shout. Mira and Haru debated tactics with light-hearted jabs. Zora teased Jasper during cooldown stretches. Ren occasionally skipped sessions to work on tech, but no one scolded him.

One afternoon, the gym buzzed with anticipation. Lucian and Ari squared off in the sparring ring—grinning like devils. Rowan leaned against the railing, Elias on one side, Quinn on the other.

"Think they’ll actually spar or just trash talk each other to death?" Elias asked dryly.

Quinn snorted. "Trash talking is the spar."

Ari dropped into a loose stance, twin blades already in hand—sleek, black-veined steel that hummed faintly with reactive charge. "Try not to cry this time, Lucian."

Lucian rolled his neck, stepping forward with a smirk as his tetherlight flickered briefly along his knuckles. "Just don’t blink out of the ring again. I’m still sweeping up your last ego trip."

Rowan laughed despite himself, tension melting from his shoulders as he leaned against the railing.

The match opened like a dance of ghosts. Ari lunged, blades flashing in a sharp X-cut, testing Lucian’s reaction. Lucian twisted sideways, deflecting the first strike with a flare of kinetic aura, pivoted, and launched a counter-kick that skimmed just shy of Ari’s ribs.

Blades clashed with tethered sparks. Ari spun low, swept behind Lucian, and released a burst of light from one blade that lit the mat in a swirl of blue. Lucian staggered, caught himself, and laughed. "Flashy as always."

"Effective," Ari snapped, vaulting upward with a knee aimed for Lucian’s collar.

Lucian caught it with a crossblock and threw her—Ari flipped midair, landed like liquid, and drove both blades forward in a spiraling arc meant to box Lucian in.

Lucian slid beneath it, grabbed Ari’s ankle mid-motion, and yanked—sending them both tumbling in a heap.

"Artistry!" Ari declared from the floor, winded but grinning, one blade stuck in the padding like a flag.

Lucian wheezed, face pressed into the mat. "That’s not legal in any martial code."

"Then someone needs to revise the code."

By the end of the round, both were breathless and smiling, sprawled on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and ego.

Rowan looked down at them and shook his head. "Still undefeated in performance grade, though."

"Damn right," Ari panted.

Lucian gave Rowan a wink, still flat on his back. "You should join next time. Just don’t fall in love with me again when I sweep you."

Rowan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling. "Too late for that."

Evenings were slow, warm. Dinners shared under a simulated dusk. Someone always remembered his favorites. Someone always said something that made him laugh.

Rowan began to let go.

It was subtle at first—staying longer at the table after meals, smiling without checking if it felt right, leaning into Lucian’s touch without hesitation. He woke from dreamless sleep and didn’t flinch. He stopped scanning rooms for exits.

There was a strange comfort in the erosion.

He knew, somewhere deep in the core of his being, that this wasn’t real—not the way his world had been—but it didn’t feel false. It felt like a path that had diverged from his pain, grown wild and soft and kind.

The doubt remained, but it dulled beneath the overwhelming balm of peace.

And when he found himself laughing during training, unguarded, lungs full, eyes warm—he didn’t stop.

He was falling.

Not because he believed this world was right.

But because, for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t hurt to stay.

And then the hallway lights stuttered.

Only once. A flicker. But Rowan stopped walking.

He turned.

Nothing.

But the pulse inside his chest beat faster—not fear. Not confusion.

Recognition.

He stepped away from the group without a word, drawn toward a utility corridor he never remembered seeing before. As he passed the bulkhead, his tetherlight pulsed hard once—then went dark. Just for a heartbeat.

Then came the voice.

"Rowan."

Not from this world.

It was real.

Lucian’s real voice.

Rowan fell to his knees. His breath hitched as his resonance field sparked violently, like it had been struck from the outside.

"Rowan—stay with me—this is a projection window—we only have a few seconds—"

The walls around him flickered like corrupted code.

Rowan looked up and saw him—Lucian. Burned, ragged, eyes bright with fury and desperation, reaching through a pulse of resonant static like his soul was burning just to make the connection.

"Lucian?"

"You’re not dreaming. You’re not crazy. You’re trapped. And we’re coming for you."

And just before the recursion closed the window—just before the corridor restored its perfect facade—Rowan’s heart beat fast, whispering one word:

"Home."

The corridor sealed shut like a mouth swallowing truth. The pristine lighting resumed, the hum of the base returned—but Rowan stayed on his knees.

His resonance sparked erratically now, the calm golden pulse fractured with jagged strands of violet and white.

Footsteps echoed behind him. Lucian—the other Lucian—appeared at the far end of the hall, concern sculpted carefully into his face.

"Rowan? What happened?"

Rowan looked up slowly, his voice hoarse. "I saw him. I saw you."

Timeline Lucian knelt beside him, gently touching his shoulder. "You’re just tired. You’ve been pushing too hard."

Rowan didn’t pull away—but he didn’t lean in either. "Don’t. Don’t talk to me like he does. You can’t fake it anymore."

The world behind him shivered. For a moment, Rowan felt the recursion trying to knit itself back together. Soothing. Lulling. Reasserting peace.

But something inside him had broken free.

He stood, breath shaking. "You can build a paradise out of everything I ever loved—but it’s not mine. And I’m not yours."

Lucian—the false one—didn’t argue. He rose as well, stepping close, expression caught between affection and sadness. "Maybe I’m not the one you started with," he said softly. "But I’m the one who stayed. Let me help you remember why you wanted this."

He extended a hand. Rowan hesitated.

And took it.

A mistake?

The following days blurred into something sweeter. Rowan was surrounded by sensations he’d long forgotten how to crave: the citrus bloom of the training courtyard after rain, the warmth of Lucian’s fingertips tracing lazy lines along his back while they lay in bed, dusk turning the compound windows rose-gold while quiet music played on an old analog speaker.

He laughed more. Slept deeper. And even when the flickers came—shadows across mirrors, voices on the edge of dreams—he pushed them away with ease.

One evening, after a long day of sparring and laughter and no pain at all, Rowan leaned back into Lucian’s arms by the firelight. The synthetic hearth crackled low, scented with cedar and old memories. Lucian kissed the edge of his jaw, slow and reverent.

"You don’t have to be anything else here," Lucian whispered, breath warm against Rowan’s skin. "You can just be."

Rowan turned toward him, kissing him softly at first, then deeper—longing rising like a tide that couldn’t be stopped.

Clothes loosened. Hands learned again.

"You’re so damn beautiful," Lucian murmured, his voice low and rough, as his fingers traced the curve of Rowan’s collarbone. The firelight flickered, casting shadows that danced across their skin, and the scent of cedar filled the air, warm and intoxicating.

Rowan shivered, not from the cold but from the way Lucian’s touch seemed to ignite something deep within him. "You say that like you didn’t just spend the whole day trying to knock me on my ass," he teased, though his breath hitched as Lucian’s lips brushed against his neck.

"And yet here you are," Lucian replied, his voice a soft growl, "still standing. Still mine." His hand slid down Rowan’s chest, fingers splaying over his ribs, and Rowan felt his body respond instantly, heat pooling low in his stomach.

It felt like it’s been awhile since they’d been this close, a long time since they’d allowed themselves to be vulnerable with each other. But now, in the quiet of the evening, with the fire crackling softly and the world outside forgotten, it was as if no time had passed at all.

Rowan turned in Lucian’s arms, their faces inches apart, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

Then Rowan closed the distance, his lips meeting Lucian’s in a kiss that was both familiar, new and a little wrong.

It started slow, almost tentative, but quickly deepened, their mouths moving together with a hunger that had been building for far too long.

Lucian’s hands were everywhere—tangling in Rowan’s hair, sliding down his back, gripping his hips—and Rowan couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, the sound swallowed by Lucian’s mouth.

He pressed closer, his body arching into Lucian’s, and felt the hard line of Lucian’s arousal against his thigh.

"God, I’ve missed this," Lucian breathed when they finally broke apart, his forehead resting against Rowan’s. "Missed you."

Rowan didn’t trust himself to speak, eyes glazed with need.

Instead, he reached for the hem of Lucian’s shirt, tugging it up and over his head in one swift motion.

The sight of Lucian’s bare chest, muscles taut and skin glowing in the firelight, made Rowan’s mouth go dry.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the center of Lucian’s chest, then another, trailing his lips lower until he reached the waistband of Lucian’s pants.

Lucian’s breath caught as Rowan’s fingers worked at the button, and when Rowan finally freed him from the confines of his clothing, he let out a low groan.

Rowan didn’t hesitate; he wrapped his hand around Lucian’s length, stroking him slowly, reveling in the way Lucian’s hips jerked forward into his touch.

"Fuck, Rowan," Lucian muttered, his voice strained. "You’re going to kill me."

Rowan smirked up at him, his eyes dark with desire. "Not yet," he said, before lowering his head and taking Lucian into his mouth.

The sound Lucian made was almost feral, his hands gripping Rowan’s shoulders as Rowan worked him with his tongue, teasing and tasting until Lucian was trembling beneath him. Rowan loved this—the power he had over Lucian in this moment, the way he could make him come undone with just his mouth.

He hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, and felt Lucian’s fingers tighten in his hair.

"Rowan," Lucian gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I can’t—I’m not going to last if you keep doing that."

Rowan pulled back just enough to look up at him, his lips slick and swollen. "Then don’t," he said simply, before taking Lucian deep again.

This time, Lucian didn’t hold back. His hips bucked forward, driving himself deeper into Rowan’s mouth, and Rowan let him, swallowing around him as Lucian came with a strangled cry. He stayed there for a moment, letting Lucian ride out the waves of pleasure, before finally pulling away and sitting back on his heels.

Lucian looked down at him, his chest heaving, and there was something in his eyes—something raw and unguarded—that made Rowan’s heart ache. "Come here," Lucian said, reaching for him, and Rowan went willingly, letting Lucian pull him into a kiss that was softer now, more tender.

But it didn’t stay that way for long. As their bodies pressed together, Rowan could feel the heat building between them again, and when Lucian’s hand slipped between his legs, he couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips.

"You’re so fucking perfect," Lucian whispered against his mouth, his fingers working Rowan open with a practiced ease that made Rowan’s head spin. "I want to feel you. All of you. I can’t let you go anymore"

Rowan nodded, unable to form words as Lucian added another finger, stretching him gently but insistently.

The sensation was overwhelming—pleasure coiled tight in his stomach, threatening to snap—and when Lucian finally withdrew his fingers, Rowan felt almost bereft.

But then Lucian was there, pressing into him slowly, inch by agonizing inch, and Rowan’s breath caught in his throat. It felt like coming home—like every nerve in his body was alight with the rightness of it.

"Lucian," Rowan gasped, his hands clutching at Lucian’s shoulders as he bottomed out. "Please."

Lucian didn’t need to be told twice. He began to move, his thrusts steady and deep, and Rowan arched into him, meeting him stroke for stroke. The firelight bathed them in a golden glow, and the sound of their breathing mingled with the crackle of the flames.

It was too much and not enough all at once—the way Lucian filled him, the way their bodies moved together, the way every touch seemed to set him on fire. Rowan could feel himself unraveling, pleasure building with every thrust until he was teetering on the edge.

"Look at me," Lucian commanded, his voice rough with need, and Rowan obeyed, locking eyes with him as Lucian reached between them to take Rowan in hand.

That was all it took. With a cry that was half Lucian’s name and half a wordless plea, Rowan came apart, his body shuddering with the force of it. Lucian followed him over the edge moments later, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside Rowan.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, their bodies still joined, their breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Finally, Lucian pulled out gently, collapsing beside Rowan and pulling him into his arms.

"Stay," Lucian murmured, his lips brushing against Rowan’s temple. "Just... stay."

Rowan didn’t answer. Instead, he curled closer to Lucian, letting the warmth of the fire and the steady rhythm of Lucian’s heartbeat lull him into a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years.

And for that night, the recursion gave him what he had always feared he didn’t deserve:

A moment where he wasn’t fractured.

Just loved.

Whole.

Still... somewhere deep beneath the warmth, something watched.

Waiting for him to let go completely.

Scene Shift — Zarek HQ

Lucian staggered back from the interface, smoke rising faintly from his hands. His resonance field was wild now, flaring too brightly to be stable. Ren and Vespera rushed forward.

"Feedback surge," Ren said, grabbing a stabilizer module. "You punched through."

Lucian’s eyes were wide, wild. "He heard me. I know he heard me. He said ’home.’"

Mira exhaled, stunned. "That’s confirmation. A live identity echo. We have a tether lock."

Vespera steadied Lucian. "Then we build a way in. A projection route. But Lucian—if you keep pushing like that—"

"I don’t care," he said, voice shredded. "We’re not stopping now."

He turned from them, pressing both palms to the wall as if trying to breathe through the ache clawing through his ribs. "He’s fading. Every minute we wait... I feel him drifting further. Like he’s choosing that place. Like he’s starting to forget us."

His voice cracked, and the resonance field around his wrist flared violently.

Ren stepped back, adjusting the interface quickly as Lucian’s vitals spiked. "He’s burning too hot. We need to anchor this."

"But we know more now," Mira said. "Based on the last spike, he’s not just inside a recursion field. He’s in a recursive stasis stream—something adaptive, reactive. The environment isn’t fake. It’s... another timeline. A probable continuity, stabilized by emotional feedback."

Quinn nodded grimly. "So the more at peace he feels, the harder it’ll be to break through. It’s self-sustaining."

"We need an emotional override," Vespera said. "Something that destabilizes the harmony of that loop without destroying it. Something that brings him back to who he was."

Lucian looked up, eyes burning. "Then give me the projection link. I’ll drag his memory back from the edges myself."

The team stood around him, battered but burning.

They had touched him.

Now they would tear the recursion open to bring him back.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.