As the rain poured down, the vehicle sped toward Caledron Manor.
Inside the car, the smeel was thick with the stench of narcotics.
Rowen was slumped on the back seat, shirtless, his skin riddled with injection marks and bruises.
His gaze was dark, but his smile remained — wide, laced with deranged satisfaction.
He was chewing on a fentanyl lozenge, a trail of foamy saliva dripping from his chin.
He raised his hand and tapped the tablet screen. Four names appeared :
Dante Godwin – Helena De Souza – Jophiel Godwin – Annabelle Edwin.
— "Send the bounty... and... dope the last two. Don't kill them — not yet. I want to see them beg for their own euthanasia. Let them rot slowly... slowly, like I did."
His men remained still, visibly uneasy. But none dared disobey. He still held power over them.
— "Jophiel and his mutt of a mother...make them mine."
He chuckled, sniffed, then leaned toward the box at his feet.
Inside were pills, syringes, vials. He plunged his fingers in like a child reaching into a jar of candy.
He pulled out a small vial of brownish liquid and injected it straight into his carotid artery without so much as a flinch.
Panting, he felt invincible.
At least until Caledron Manor rose in the distance, perched on the cliffside.
That's when he understood.
He wasn't walking back out.
He thought he was a player.
But as the heavy gates of Caledron Manor shut behind him, Rowen felt something die.
Him. A piece of him died right then, in that metallic clang.
He trembled in the car, pupils dilated from the drugs, hands shaking.
Sweat beaded heavily on his forehead.
He wanted to believe he was still in control, that he would survive the confrontation, that his bluff was stronger than ever.
But his body betrayed him.
Memories of past humiliations surfaced — the scornful sighs, the averted gazes, dinners where no one sat beside him.
He had always been the misfit child, the one tolerated but never loved.
And now, he was returning as a traitor.
He tried to flee. Opened the car door, hurled himself out, and ran toward the cliff, screaming, ready to end it all.
But the guards' arms were faster than death.
He was dragged back in, like a beaten dog, into the manor.
In the meeting room, a grand table stood in the center, surrounded by peoples.
The Caledron's.
They were all there, except those who are dead.
Tristan, the patriarch.
Sybille, the goddess-bodied heiress.
Lorenth, the brain — arms crossed, silent and scornful.
Doc C, seated in the place of honor, his black mask marked with a goldenX, chuckling.
Rowen was thrown to the floor like a rotting fish.
He remained on his knees, unable to speak.
Tristan stood up, slowly.
— "You've disgraced us."
His voice cracked like a whip. He didn't raise it, he didn't need to.
— "You created a foolish game. Recruited strays, degenerates, madmen... to 'compete' with the Caledrons ? Without informing anyone ? You are... a disgrace."
Rowen opened his mouth. No sound came out.
Sybille laughed.
— "Is he crying ?"
Lorenth sighed, disgusted.
— "He's no traitor. He's just acting like his junkie mother — willing to do anything for a fix. He, for a scrap of recognition."
Rowen felt his throat tighten. His tongue was thick.
He desperately searched for a shred of dignity, a word, an excuse... but there was no mask left to hide behind.
He lifted his head, one eye swollen shut from a bruise.
— "I've always hated you, so much. You saw nothing. That was just a prelude."
— "You speak like you can write your own tragedy."
— "You know what you are, Rowen?" Doc C asked softly. "A joke. You had potential, a taste for chaos but too weak. Too narcissistic to ever be free. You thought Spiral was your game? You never controlled anything."
He pulled a small bag from his pocket.
— "Here. One last favor. With this, you'll get all the recognition you crave."
Rowen reached out without thinking. He no longer wanted to feel. Just to disappear. Just... become something else.
He opened the bag. A creature awaited inside — a black centipede, bristling with red spikes.
It lunged, climbed up his arm, and burrowed into his throat.
The pain was instant.
Rowen screamed. His body convulsed, he fell to his knees, drooling black blood, fighting against something unseen crawling beneath his skin.
His ribcage heaved and half-exploded under the pressure of mutating organs.
His eyes rolled back, bones cracked, black veins burst along his neck. His skull reshaped, horns began sprouting inside his eyes.
Doc C bowed theatrically.
— "Ladies and gentlemen... from Rowen Caledron to Rowen the Worthless."
The Caledrons stared at him without an ounce of compassion.
Tristan simply turned his head, emotionless.
— "Record this in the archives. Rowen Caledron died today."
Doc C burst into laughter.
— "But the beast... oh, the beast was just born." He let out a long, sadistic laugh. "My family will fall tonight — and with it, so will Kovalia!"
---
Lexie lay in a crater of ashes. Around her, corpses.
Some no longer looked human. Others still had their eyes open, staring at a sky blackened with soot.
She tried to move — a sharp pain tore through her side, but something kept her alive.
A cold, metallic hand against her skin.
— "You're lucky to still be in one piece," said a flat voice.
A man was leaning over her. The left side of his body was no longer flesh — cables ran from his neck, and a red light flickered in his right eye.
He wore no uniform, just a bloodstained suit. On his chest plate : M.PAYNE.
A liquid slid into her wound. She screamed briefly, then the pain vanished.
— "You should be able to walk. Get up."
Lexie stared at him, confused.
— "I... where...?"
— "The city's done for. That's all you need to know. SPIRAL dug a hole so deep, even the rats are climbing out to bite."
He helped her up. Before them, the city's main avenue was collapsing into chaos.
Flames devoured buildings, sirens wailed in the distance. Silhouettes ran in all directions, others crawled.
— "I need you," Payne said. "Jophiel Godwin and Annabelle Edwin have been taken. If they're still alive, we need to find them now."
She wanted to protest, to say she didn't understand. But he cut her off :
— "And there's a bounty on Dante and Helena's heads. You want to save them ? Then follow me."
---
They drove in an armored vehicle stolen from a response unit.
Lexie watched the city crumble. The streets were reduced to fire and screams.
At every intersection, a horror scene.
Gutted civilians, rampaging corrupted, children curled up behind corpses.
— "The Heresy Inquisitors are already here," Payne said.
A man in a black robe, wearing an iron mask, crushed the skull of a corrupted with a spiked mace.
He didn't even flinch when Lexie screamed.
— "They're cleaning, even the innocent. They call it 'purging the emotional faultline.'"
— "Why are you helping me ? What's your connection to Dante's family ?"
— "He saved mine, I'm returning the favor."
He handed her a photo : several children with animal traits gathered around him, smiling toothlessly.
— "That's my family."
Lexie was deeply moved — a man so cold, whose features and implants suggested Yorkshine ancestry, a nation known for its violent men.
— "And why should I trust you ?"
— "I saved your life with an Alpha-7 compound. Maybe I should be the one answering that."
A man was crossing the road, hopping on one leg. Max slammed the brakes.
Lexie recognized him instantly. His left leg was a mechanical prosthesis.
— "Nash ?!"
The young man turned his head. His face was scarred by burns.
Lexie jumped out of the vehicle.
— "Nash! You're alive!"
He raised his hand—not to wave, but to stop her.
— "Don't come any closer."
She froze.
— "Nash, I…"
— "You betrayed everything we stood for. SPIRAL ? That was your idea, wasn't it ? Sure, Rowen pulled the strings, but you were right there with him. And this—" He motioned to his leg. "this is what I got for trying to save you."
Lexie lowered her gaze. Nothing she could say would undo what she'd seen—or allowed to happen.
Nash let out a long sigh and climbed into the vehicle without another word.
— "I'll help you," he said at last. "Not for you. To fix the mess we made. And for Dante… our hero."
He plugged a few chips into the vehicle's console.
The screens flickered to life, displaying city communications and surveillance feeds.
— "Got them. East, near the old sorting station. We're twenty minutes out."
Lexie, relieved by her old teammate's skills, ran her hand quickly through his hair with a grin.
She turned to Payne.
— "We're going to save them."
He gave a nod as if to accept.
— "Or die trying."