The vast expanse of sky above the tactical spire fractured, not into clouds, but into immense, blocky pixels that swam and dissolved, revealing an empty black abyss. “The terminal,” Veylin barked, pulling him toward the gangway. “The primary bridge terminal is in the middle observation deck.” Crumb dug sharp claws into Jorvan's shoulder, orange fur standing stiff. Jorvan tapped the cat's nose. Two levels down lay an access shaft. “Hold on,” Jorvan muttered, and without waiting for Veylin’s response, he launched them both from the grimy window. Air rushed past, the wind tearing at their clothes as they plummeted. Veylin let out a choked cry, but Jorvan twisted mid-air, a subtle shift in spatial coordinates, and they landed with jarring force on the access hatch to the deck. The hatch's rusted tumbler clicked open under Jorvan’s bypass touch, exposing an iron spiral staircase. [PLANET_OSH-TIRNA.FILE.DELETION IN PROGRESS. ESTIMATED COMPLETION: 00:00:48] The Echo-Core’s voice echoed around them, a constant, cheerful reminder of their impending doom. They scrambled down the steps, the stone shaking underfoot as the purge wave rattled the load-bearing beams. The air tasted of charred copper. On the observation floor, an intruder construct blocked the corridor. A towering, shifting entity of jagged polygons, its silhouette tore through visual reality like broken scanlines. It grated in clipping audio: “UNAUTHORISED. OVERRIDE. DETECTED. ALL. THREATS. ELIMINATED.” His hands, now massive, blocky appendages, reached for them. They flickered with purple light, leaving trails of garbage values that dissolved flagstones into glittering slag. Veylin didn’t hesitate. “Bastion defense grid, full containment!” Veylin snapped. “Lock on the intruder!” From surrounding bastions, auxiliary conduits surged. Arcane projectors fired scarlet beams, weaving a pressurized lattice around the beast. The polygon brute thrashed, shrieking through distorted audio channels as the force cage pinned its limbs. “You can’t crush a purge daemon with brute force, Veylin!” Jorvan shouted over the noise. “It’s an automated routine. It just repairs itself.” He needed to overflow its memory stack, not crack its shell. His eyes darted around the observation deck, seeking inspiration. The master altar stood just past the pinned daemon. Jorvan jammed a hand into his coat pocket, fingers brushing cellophane. The pocket lint packet from three days ago. Literal junk data. Perfect. “Crumb! I need some heat!” Jorvan commanded, holding the bag up. The cat, sensing the urgency in his voice, puffed itself up. Its small chest swelled, and with a surprisingly robust *HRAAAUGH!* Crumb belched a concentrated stream of miniature, searing dragon-fire directly into the bag of lint. The lint didn’t burn; instead, it superheated into a glowing, jittering clump of iridescent slag. [PLANET_OSH-TIRNA.FILE.DELETION IN PROGRESS. ESTIMATED COMPLETION: 00:00:35] “This is going to be messy,” Jorvan muttered, gritting his teeth. Jorvan sprinted around the perimeter, ducking beneath the flailing polygon limbs. He slid to the rim of the containment grid. “Jorvan, what are you doing?!” Veylin cried, maintaining her focus on the containment. The strain was evident on her face, but her grip on the defense grid remained unyielding. “Feeding it garbage!” Jorvan shoved the scorched mass directly into the entity's chest lattice. The field flared red, allowing the payload through before snapping shut. The daemon froze. Its chassis shuddered in rapid stutters. Purple light sputtered along its joints, frame tearing into noisy static. “ERROR. UNEXPECTED. INPUT. UNABLE. TO. PARSE.” With a sharp crack, the construct collapsed inward, scattering into cyan particles that dissolved against the stone floor. Absolute silence dropped over the deck. [THREAT NEUTRALIZED. PATH TO FINAL ADMIN NODE CONSOLE CLEARED. PLEASE ENTER FINAL PASSWORD. HINT: YOUR FAVORITE DRINK.] Jorvan wiped sweat from his eyebrows. The pedestal hummed peacefully, waiting for input. His favorite drink. Classic past-Jorvan security negligence. [PLANET_OSH-TIRNA.FILE.DELETION IN PROGRESS. ESTIMATED COMPLETION: 00:00:05] Five ticks before Osh-Tirna dropped out of memory. Jorvan leaned over the stone slab, typing out a single word.

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