Into the yawning, twelve-hundred-half-mile deep gap torn open by Titus and Grimm, Vesper plunged like a falling shard of silver ice.
The White Tiger of Slaughter didn’t roar, nor did she display the bone-shaking moving fury of Titus or the savage, bone-crushing violence of Grimm. Vesper moved with the silent, high-born grace of a ghostly surgeon. Her sleek, snow-white fur was charged with millions of tiny arcs of silver spatial mana. Her amber eyes were dilated into razor-thin upright slits of pure, lethal focus.
Beneath the shattered spinal hard shell, twenty miles deep within the titan’s chest cavity, rested the heart of the infection: the Endothermic Core Organ.
It was a huge sphere of bio-crystal-clear total-zero ice, one hundred and twenty miles in width, pulsating with an unnatural, sickly violet soft glow. Streaming from its surface were thirty-six main cold-matter blood-vessel branches, each one thick as an earthly canyon, funneling liquid helium-three and tightly packed dark-matter catalysts to the leftover four eye drain tubes.
Through the soul-sync link, Arthur’s magnifying glass interfaced directly with Vesper’s sight field.
“Look at the left coronary branch, three hundred meters down from the main valve arch,” Arthur’s voice whispered into Vesper’s mind, calm, precise, and fully empty of doubt. “That’s the main heat-drawing inflow channel. If you slice it perpendicularly, the blood-vessel pressure will drop by eighty percent. That kept the heart from triggering a self-destruct freeze. Sever the thirty-six anchor roots in set.”
