I Woke Up 120 Years After The Apocalypse-Chapter 42: Emy

The short circuit made both men flinch, impressed by the sheer power of the sound. However, just as Akram had expected, it did not work, and the cryopod remained completely sealed.

Akram retrieved several different materials and tested them in various configurations, applying each hypothesis one by one, crossing out those that failed in his notebook. With every unsuccessful attempt, frustration became more and more visible on his face.

Yashyn observed everything in silence. He knew better than to disturb Akram while he was working.

After several hours of trials and countless theories, Akram reached his last card, his final option—the one that would determine whether this expedition was, at least in part, a failure.

Akram pressed the palm of his prosthetic hand against the glass of the cryopod, arming it.

Yashyn took a few steps back, already guessing what the young man was about to attempt.

Akram activated the mechanism of his prosthetic, launching combustion directly against the glass. His final solution was to try to melt it. A dangerous choice, both for him and for Emy—uncertain, extremely costly, and a clear testament to just how desperately he wanted to get her out of there.

After a few seconds, Akram had to pull his hand away to avoid melting the metal of his own prosthetic. And once again, just as he expected, the cryopod remained intact.

He managed to keep his composure for only a few seconds before completely exploding with rage.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUCK!"

Yashyn continued to watch in silence, choosing not to intervene while Akram let his frustration out. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"SHIT!"

The young leader hastily packed all of his equipment away, his movements betraying the anger still burning inside him.

"She’s been locked."

Yashyn tilted his head and turned his gaze toward Akram, confused.

"What do you mean by that, lil’ bud’?"

"At least one of my tests should have worked. It’s improbable that they managed to get me out of here... and not her."

"Who could have done that?"

"I don’t know..."

Akram put his backpack back on and headed toward the exit, Yashyn watching him closely, a hint of concern in his posture.

"We’ve already lost enough time here... We have to save Aphroa."

Disappointment weighed heavily in Akram’s voice. He spoke monotonously, without energy or effort. Still, he did not forget his primary objective: saving Aphroa, and by extension, saving Vulkania.

The two men climbed the stairs in complete silence. Once again, Yashyn respected Akram’s space, giving him the distance he clearly needed.

That silence—and that space—were abruptly shattered when they reached the exit, just a few steps away from freedom.

At the entrance stood Koard. His face was completely disfigured, yes, but he was still alive. His body was twisted in an unnatural posture, pain warping his frame.

He tried to speak, but the metal had partially melted over his mouth as well, making his words barely intelligible.

"Y’LL NEV’R GET OUTTA HERE!"

Yashyn tilted his head, confused. Then he noticed what Koard was holding: a significant number of explosive chestnuts clenched in his hand. Akram saw them too, immediately understanding the intentions of Koard the Vicious—a name that fit him perfectly at that very moment.

In a single second, Koard hurled what little strength he had left, throwing all of the chestnuts toward the two Vulkans. They leapt down the stairs, desperately trying to shield themselves from the blast.

Koard did not even try to escape. His goal was clearly to die in the explosion. Still, he was blown out of the Relic by the blast, thrown dozens of meters away, badly injured.

The explosion triggered a collapse inside the complex. The entrance caved in, and the staircase collapsed soon after.

Akram and Yashyn narrowly avoided the heart of the explosion, but were still caught in the shockwave, thrown down several levels.

They slowly got back up, one after the other, still shaken by the violence of the blast.

"Fuck... lil’ bud’, still alive?"

"Yeah—yeah... Argh... shit..."

Yashyn turned toward Akram. His eyes widened instantly. A shard of metal was embedded in Akram’s side, blood already pouring out.

"Oh fuck... that doesn’t look good."

Akram looked down at the wound, shocked in turn. His breathing immediately accelerated, his heart pounding violently in his chest. He didn’t hesitate—given where he had been hit, time was running out.

He took off his backpack and started rummaging through it at full speed. Adrenaline dulled the pain for now, but he knew it wouldn’t last. It was only a matter of minutes before he would be completely immobilized.

Yashyn rushed to help him, throwing useless items aside. Akram finally grabbed the gel.

"Y-Yashyn... you’re gonna have to pull it out..."

Akram lay back, clearly exposing the wound and the metal plate lodged in his torso.

"You sure? You’re gonna bleed out fast. I really hope your thing there is actually magic."

"Trust me..."

Despite the urgency, Yashyn kept his usual nonchalance. He grabbed the metal plate with both hands. Akram let out a strained laugh as the pain slowly began to take over.

"Why are you laughing? Are you crazy or what?"

"You’re not even a little shaken... That made me laugh..."

Yashyn shook his head, a faint smile visible beneath his mask.

"Alright, stop talking and tell me when you’re ready."

Akram’s breathing accelerated again as the pain flooded his mind. He could feel the plate piercing his organs, cutting through his body like butter.

The young leader prepared the gel, ready to apply it the moment he could. He looked at Yashyn, signaling that he was ready.

Yashyn met his gaze and nodded. In a single motion, without hesitation or apparent effort, he ripped the plate out of Akram’s body. Blood burst out instantly, flooding the space within seconds.

Akram tried to apply the gel, but barely had time to start before the blood loss made his vision blur.

"Akram?! Hey, stay with me lil’ bud’!! What the hell are you doing?!"

Akram was losing too much blood—far too quickly. His body couldn’t take it. He fell unconscious, dropping the prepared tube of gel from his hand.

Yashyn caught it before it rolled away. He understood immediately: this was Akram’s last chance at survival. Even if he didn’t know how to apply the gel, he had to do it. Otherwise, his student was doomed.