Chapter 78: Sacred Ground

"Your enhancement ports are rejecting the repairs." The tech-priest's voice carried an edge Kasper hadn't heard before. Her fingers moved with practiced precision across diagnostic screens, leaving trails of ozone in the air. "Never seen evolution patterns like this. What exactly happened in that cathedral?"

Antiseptic tang mixed with sacred incense, making Kasper's enhanced senses swim. The medical nanites crawled through his system like ice in his veins, each pulse sending fresh pain through ports that should have accepted standard repairs.

Should have.

Didn't.

The medical bay's blessed machines hummed at frequencies that made his teeth ache. Through reinforced windows, afternoon light cast bronze shadows across art deco halls, painting everything in shades of gilt and tarnish.

"Stop fighting the nanites," the tech-priest murmured. Her own enhancement ports bore traditional markings, properly blessed by the Technological Diocese. Not like the evolving patterns they'd seen at the cathedral. "Your body's trying to reject the repairs."

"Just like it rejected the truth." The words tasted like copper on his tongue.

Across the medical bay, Quiroga's head snapped up from her workstation. Her hands trembled as she manipulated data streams, coming down hard from combat stims. Sweat beaded where neural patches pulsed with dying light, dark circles under chrome-dilated eyes telling their own story.

She hadn't slept since the orphanage bombing.

"The truth?" Her laugh cracked like breaking glass. She rubbed her neck, fingers catching on modified patches bearing underground tech-priests' marks. "Like how The Director turned Sarah?"

Her fingers danced across interfaces despite the tremors, leaving ghostly afterimages in the air.

"Or how they're recruiting kids now?"

The tremors got worse.

"Six dead at the cathedral. Fourteen to sixteen years old. Enhancement ports still wet behind their ears."

Salvaterra's prayer beads clicked softly from his corner, each sound echoing off marble floors. The smell of sanctified incense grew stronger with every prayer, synchronizing with the building's defense grid. Now he paused, studying Quiroga with quiet concern.

"When did you last sleep, hermana?"

"Sleep's for people who don't see dead children when they close their eyes."

Her neural patches flickered red against pale skin. Warning sign.

Metal scraped on marble as Montero returned from the courtyard. His fingers found his old service medallion – a habit from decades of command. Ancient combat protocols hummed beneath the gesture, a counterpoint to the medical bay's machinery.

"Rivera's moving faster than expected." His voice carried weight earned in countless operations. The medallion caught light as his fingers moved. "Three more parliament members found dead this morning. Military command getting purged of cartel sympathizers."

Steam hissed through blessed vents, carrying undertones of machine prayer. Kasper caught Montero's reflection in the copper-fitted windows. The old soldier's enhancement ports bore orthodox Church markings that pre-dated the Reformation.

But something was different.

Evolution patterns that shouldn't exist in traditional hardware.

Changes that shouldn't be possible.

"Think this president will last longer than the last honest one?" Quiroga's fingers never stopped moving. Her voice shook with exhaustion, words slurring slightly. "What was it, three city blocks the car bomb took out?"

"Rivera's different." Salvaterra's whispered prayers guided automated defenses, each click matching the building's defense pulse. Incense swirled thicker around him. "He has real faith."

A pause heavy with meaning.

"And he has us."

"He has more than that." Montero pulled up tactical displays, ancient protocols interfacing with Association systems. His medallion caught light as he leaned forward. "Veterans coming out of retirement. Caribbean branches sending support."

His enhancement cores hummed with grim satisfaction, the sound making Kasper's ports ache in sympathy.

"They're calling it Operation Lazarus."

The medical nanites finished their work, leaving behind a hollow space where Sarah's frequency used to resonate. "Lazarus rose from the dead. This city's been dead a long time."

"Not dead." Quiroga's voice dropped as she accessed encrypted files. Her hands finally stilled, trembling subsided to microscopic shivers. "Evolving. Like those enhancement cores we saw."

She caught her reflection in the screen, neural patches casting sickly light on hollow cheeks.

"The Army isn't just upgrading people anymore – they're rewriting what it means to be human. Making their own version of transcendence."

The medical bay's blessed machines sang soft hymns as Kasper studied his team through enhancement-sharpened senses.

Salvaterra's prayers carried an edge of desperation now, seeking guidance in a war that threatened both flesh and faith. Each bead click echoed like judgment.

Montero's ancient protocols showed concerning adaptation patterns, evolving beyond Church-sanctioned limits. His medallion never stopped moving through practiced fingers.

Quiroga's neural patches bore marks of underground tech-priests – modifications that walked the line between innovation and heresy. Sweat traced paths down her neck.

"We traced the enhancement signatures," she continued, fatigue cracking through her professional mask. Static crawled across nearby screens as her patches flickered. "Same ones from Sarah's lab. Same ones from the orphanage."

Her hands started shaking again, rattling against brass keys.

"The Director's been busy."

"How deep does it go?" Montero's question carried the weight of decades serving the Association. His medallion stilled.

"Parliament. Military. Even some lower-ranking tech-priests." Quiroga's fingers resumed their dance across interfaces, leaving trails of light in their wake. "All feeding enhanced children into Project Lazarus. Building their army one stolen life at time."

Cold air whispered through blessed vents as Kasper closed his eyes. Sarah's final words echoed through neural pathways: *"We're just vessels waiting to be filled with divine machine spirit..."*

She hadn't been lost to madness.

She'd seen this coming.

"Can't fight this conventionally." Montero's enhancement cores hummed with carefully controlled rage, making nearby screens flicker. "Not if they've infiltrated both government and Church."

"Then we fight with faith." Salvaterra's prayer beads clicked with quiet certainty. Incense curled like judgment.

"Faith?" Quiroga's laugh cracked. "Faith got those kids killed. Faith let Sarah—"

She caught herself, glanced at Kasper. Her patches pulsed warning red.

"Lo siento, hermano."

"Don't." Kasper forced himself to meet her gaze, ignoring how the nanites made his vision swim. "She made her choice."

"Like we're making ours?" Quiroga's neural patches cast crimson shadows on pale skin. "Playing soldier in our fancy fortress while they—"

Her hands started trembling violently, knocking against brass keys.

"Dios mío, I need sleep."

"Go." Montero's voice softened. His medallion caught light as he straightened. "We've got watch. Emergency protocols are set."

"Those kids had parents." Quiroga's whisper carried raw pain, static crackling in its wake. "Had dreams. Had—"

She pushed away from her workstation, stumbling slightly on marble floors that reflected her unsteady path.

"Wake me if the world ends."

Through reinforced windows, Costa del Sol's art deco skyline caught the setting sun like a crown of brass and gold. The light made Kasper's enhanced vision paint everything in shades of fire and blood.

Police autogyros swept their endless patterns between chrome-topped spires, brass hulls humming frequencies that made his ports resonate.

Inside these walls, they were safe.

For now.

Kasper watched Quiroga's retreating form, felt the hollow ache where Sarah's frequency used to sing. Safety was just another lie they told themselves.

Some hunters were born to be hunted.

Some wounds never healed clean.

And as his enhancement ports burned with sudden, alien frequency – a familiar touch he shouldn't be feeling – Kasper realized:

Something was evolving inside him.

Something that shouldn't be possible.

Something that felt like Sarah's fingers dancing across his neural pathways.

The war for Costa del Sol's soul was about to change.

And they were all going to evolve.

Whether they wanted to or not.