Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: My Cheap Husband is So Handsome**

Boom!

With a deafening crash, the cargo hold door burst free from its hinges, sending a jarring echo throughout the dimly lit space.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the metallic scent of blood, an odor that clawed at the senses and made the stomach churn.

Back when the world had crumbled into chaos, Sylvara had learned to mask her nose during confrontations with the undead—an instinct born from the nauseating stench of blood and rotting flesh that was simply unbearable.

Now, as she stood in the cargo hold, she realized this was the worst smell she had ever encountered on the entire spaceship. Without hesitation, she lifted her skirt, ripped off a portion of the hem, and fashioned it into a makeshift mask over her nose and mouth.

Casting a quick glance over her shoulder at the soldiers trailing behind her, she barked, “What are you waiting for? Didn’t I just kick that door open for you? Get moving!”

Carlos, positioned directly behind her, caught her words and shouted back, “We’re soldiers of the Troya Empire! No retreat! Charge!”

A few soldiers, jolted into action as if struck by a bolt of lightning, surged forward into the cargo hold, laser guns raised and ready.

The moment they entered, the air erupted with the crackling sounds of laser fire, illuminating the darkness with flashes of light.

Sylvara followed closely behind, her focus sharp as she swiftly harvested energy crystals from the chests of the Swarmborn hosts, which lay motionless after being shot in the head.

However, to her dismay, there were far more Swarmborn hosts than they had anticipated, and they seemed to be evolving, their grotesque forms transforming as the bugs nestled within their skulls grew stronger over time.

The newly evolved Swarmborn hosts lurched toward Sylvara, even with their heads blown off, their gurgling sounds echoing through the hold as if they were pleading, “Smells good… so hungry… let me bite.”

Disgusted, Sylvara sniffed herself; the blood from the Swarmborn hosts had splattered onto her, and the stench of rot and decay clung to her skin. There was nothing “good” about it at all.

The soldiers soon realized that every single Swarmborn host they had shot was staggering toward the same spot, drawn by some unseen force.

In an instant, Sylvara’s instincts kicked in, and she understood that she couldn’t merely stand back and collect energy crystals while the danger loomed.

She had to act. She couldn’t allow the soldiers to notice that the Swarmborn hosts were fixating on her, hungry for her flesh.

The chain in her hand suddenly felt sharper than any laser gun. With every swing, she sliced through the headless Swarmborn hosts, her movements fluid and precise.

She was quick. By the time any soldier aimed their laser, her chains had already struck, cutting down the enemies with ruthless efficiency.

Even in an age dominated by firearms, Sylvara wielded her cold weapon with deadly grace.

The soldiers exchanged glances, their eyes wide with astonishment. In that moment, they recognized that there was someone within the Troya Empire as lethal as Mr. Vaelor himself!

Once Sylvara joined the fray, the tide turned.

In mere moments, more than half of the Swarmborn hosts in the cargo hold lay destroyed, scattered across the floor.

Sensing the danger, the remaining evolved Swarmborn hosts began to retreat, their instincts screaming for survival.

But Sylvara was resolute; she was determined to eliminate every single one of these creatures that dared to think she was a delectable meal, no matter how long it took.

Channeling immense mental energy, she charged the metal chain, extending it to ensnare all the Swarmborn hosts within the cargo hold.

With a deft tug, the hosts were pulled together, their bodies colliding in a chaotic heap.

In a flash, Sylvara expertly bound them together with her chain, creating a bundle of over ten Swarmborn hosts, writhing and struggling against their restraints.

Carlos, eager to assist, rushed forward with his laser gun aimed, but Sylvara had other plans.

With a swift kick, she struck the spaceship’s wall.

Clang!

A gaping hole appeared, and air whooshed in, creating a rush that threatened to pull anyone unsteady into the void of space.

Carlos quickly grabbed a nearby railing, his face paling as he fought to maintain his balance against the sudden gust.

Sylvara stood firm by the opening, clutching the bound Swarmborn hosts, ready to hurl them into the abyss when a military warship materialized outside the breach.

A deep, emotionless voice resonated from the ship, commanding, “Keep the Swarmborn hosts. Bring them to the lab.”

Startled, Sylvara’s hand slipped, and a handful of Swarmborn hosts tumbled into the infinite darkness of space.

Carlos’s expression turned ashen as he dashed over, disregarding the peril. “Why didn’t you keep the Swarmborn hosts? Mr. Vaclor ordered us to retain them!”

Mr. Vaclor?

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