Deep within the heart of the Carpathian Mountains, Alaric stood before a reinforced glass window, his hands clasped behind his back. Beyond the glass, his creations—Ascended soldiers—trained in synchronized combat. Their movements were precise, unnaturally fast, their bodies strengthened beyond human limits.
A smirk played at his lips.
Everything was going according to plan.
A soft chime sounded behind him as the heavy doors slid open. A woman in a pristine lab coat entered, her expression unreadable. Dr. Iliana Voss, his chief geneticist and one of the few people in the world who truly understood the science behind Project Ascension.
"Sir," she said, her voice measured. "The strike team has reported back. They engaged the targets."
Alaric didn't turn. "And?"
She hesitated. "They failed."
Silence.
Then, a slow exhale. Alaric finally turned, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. "Failed?"
Dr. Voss shifted slightly. "Sebastian and his team managed to escape. They eliminated the first Ascended operative."
Alaric studied her carefully. "And the others?"
"They're in pursuit. But…" She trailed off, choosing her words carefully. "The test data suggests they won't be enough. Kane and his people are too experienced. If they regroup, they'll retaliate."
A flicker of amusement crossed Alaric's face. "Of course they will."
He stepped forward, pressing a hand against the glass, watching as two Ascended sparred—one of them moving so fast that his opponent barely had time to react before he was slammed into the ground.
"Let them think they have a chance," Alaric murmured. "It makes the end so much more satisfying."
Dr. Voss hesitated. "Sir, we should consider activating Phase Two. If we bring the new prototypes online—"
Alaric raised a hand, silencing her. "Not yet."
His gaze remained fixed on the combat floor. "Phase Two is for after I've broken them. After they realize that no matter what they do, no matter how hard they fight, they cannot win."
His voice darkened.
"They need to understand their place first."
A Meeting in the Shadows
Across the facility, in a dimly lit chamber, a figure waited. He was tall, clad in black, his face obscured by a hood. The air around him was heavy, charged with something unnatural.
The moment Alaric stepped inside, the figure spoke.
"You lost men today." His voice was smooth, like silk over steel. "The great Alaric Raizel, outmaneuvered by an ex-soldier and a handful of fugitives."
Alaric smirked, unbothered. "I lost pawns."
The figure tilted his head slightly. "And when pawns fall, the board shifts."
Alaric approached the table in the center of the room, where a single metallic case rested. With deliberate ease, he opened it. Inside, nestled within custom padding, was a small vial containing a dark, swirling liquid.
The figure's eyes gleamed. "You're finally ready, then."
Alaric lifted the vial, watching it catch the dim light. "Sebastian Kane has no idea what he's really up against."
He turned the vial slowly between his fingers. "This… this is evolution."
The figure chuckled. "Then let's begin."
Alaric's smirk widened.
Yes. Let them fight. Let them think they stood a chance.
Because soon, they would learn the truth.
And by then, it would be far too late.