The snow in Zurich fell in silence.
Beneath the grandiose façade of the Lüderhaus Tower, a fortress masked as a corporate empire, the remaining Board members gathered in a hidden chamber—cold hearts cloaked in suits worth more than countries.
They were nervous.
They had reason to be.
One by one, their best operatives had gone dark. Damien was dead. Adrienne had betrayed them. And the Seraphim prototype—Alethea Vione—was no longer a secret.
She was a weapon unleashed.
---
Inside a black SUV cutting through the icy streets, Alethea adjusted her gloves. Sleek, black leather. A perfect fit.
Across from her, Marco leaned back, still bandaged, still bleeding—but his eyes burned with focus.
"We go in fast. Clean," he said. "We disable security. You extract the list. We burn everything else."
Alethea tilted her head. "And the Board?"
He didn't blink. "No survivors."
Lucien, driving, let out a low whistle. "You've changed, boss."
Marco smirked. "I've remembered who I am."
---
The assault began at 2:14 a.m.
Lucien's EMP device knocked out every signal within a three-mile radius.
CCTV: dead.
Security doors: disabled.
Alarm systems: blind.
Marco led the way, silent gun in hand, precise and brutal.
Alethea followed, every move fluid, exact.
She wasn't just trained.
She was designed for this.
And she was done hiding.
By the time they reached the core elevator, three elite guards were unconscious, one left whimpering with a shattered kneecap.
Marco pressed the code.
"Welcome, Mr. Maxdev," the AI chirped.
"Executive Clearance Granted."
Alethea's eyes narrowed. "You still have access?"
"I built the firewalls before they fired me," he muttered. "I left them a few... surprises."
---
The elevator opened to reveal a black and gold chamber—obsidian floors, marble walls, and a round table of nine chairs.
Four were occupied.
The remaining five had chosen exile.
Cowards.
Alethea walked forward alone.
Heels echoing like a death march.
The men at the table stood—aging faces lined with arrogance and fear.
"Alethea," one of them said, voice trembling. "You don't understand what you're doing. We created you. We can fix this."
"You created a weapon and hoped it would forget," she replied. "But I remember everything."
Another Board member, a tall Russian with a glass cane, pointed at her. "She's unstable. She must be terminated!"
Alethea smiled, cold and slow. "Funny. That's exactly what they said about you, Konstantin, when you killed your brother for control of the Black Arm."
Marco walked to her side, eyes like fire. "It ends tonight."
Lucien entered behind them, carrying a briefcase.
Inside it: an explosive virus—digital and literal.
Alethea tossed a folder onto the table.
"These are the names of every Seraphim experiment you tried to hide. Every child. Every woman. Every man. I'm giving the world the truth."
The Swiss chairwoman, pale with fury, stood. "You'll destroy the order!"
"I'm not here to destroy order," Alethea said.
"I'm here to destroy you."
With a nod, Lucien activated the virus.
Alarms blared. Firewalls crashed. Data streamed live to anonymous accounts across the globe.
Whistleblower archives.
International tribunals.
The world would know.
Gunfire erupted as the Board fought back in desperation—but they were old men with old weapons.
Marco didn't hesitate.
Lucien was faster.
Alethea was brutal.
And within minutes—
Silence.
The Board of Nine was dead.
And the Seraphim program, exposed.
---
At sunrise, as snow continued to fall, Alethea stood atop the Lüderhaus Tower, hair dancing in the wind, the city at her feet.
Beside her, Marco slipped an arm around her waist.
"You did it," he whispered.
"No," she said softly. "We started it."
He looked at her, proud. "Then what now?"
Alethea looked toward the horizon, eyes full of storm and steel.
"Now, we hunt the ones who ran. We burn every piece of their legacy. And when it's all done…"
She turned to him.
"I build something new. Something mine."
And for the first time—
She smiled.
Not as a pawn.
Not as a creation.
But as a queen.
Tokyo at night was a kaleidoscope of neon and secrets.
Rain dripped from the curved edges of steel skyscrapers. Holograms flickered in the sky. Beneath the city's glowing exterior, the underworld pulsed—alive, dangerous, waiting.
Alethea stepped out of a matte black car wearing a silk trench coat over a high-tech bodysuit. Her lips painted a deep crimson, her stare sharper than any blade. The cold Tokyo air kissed her cheek, but she didn't shiver.
She hadn't felt fear in years.
Beside her, Marco adjusted the microchip cuff on his wrist, scanning the crowd. "This is her last known location."
Lucien's voice came through their earpieces.
"Target's codename: Bloodlotus. Real name: Vera Dae. Former Seraphim Alpha prototype. Thought dead three years ago in the Seoul extraction mission."
Alethea's eyes darkened. "She wasn't dead. She was hiding."
Marco nodded. "Waiting. Watching. And now she's moving again."
They entered a towering building posing as an underground tech conglomerate. Inside, walls of shimmering glass masked endless corridors, and the elevator required biometric scans Alethea had already bypassed in her head.
Because Vera had been her mirror once.
Her rival.
And maybe, her only equal.
---
Floor 77.
Red lights dimmed the hallway. Security systems flickered like dying embers.
Alethea moved first.
Every step precise.
She passed body after body—guards with slit throats, smoke curling from their radios.
Marco followed close behind. "She's already here."
"Correction," a voice said behind them. "She never left."
They turned.
And there she stood.
Vera Dae.
Tall. Deadly. Beauty carved in steel. Clad in obsidian armor laced with crimson veins, her hair slicked back like a shadow. A serpent tattoo coiled down her spine.
"You've grown, Alethea," she said, circling her slowly. "But are you ready to die as yourself?"
Alethea didn't flinch. "You always talked too much."
Vera lunged.
It was like watching two storms collide.
Their bodies moved like poetry—lethal, elegant, raw.
Blades drawn. Steel clashed. Sparks flew.
Marco tried to intervene, but Alethea held up her hand.
"She's mine."
The fight spiraled through corridors—glass shattered, lights burst, walls cracked. Vera's style was brutal and unrestrained. Alethea's—disciplined, lethal precision.
But blood was spilled.
Alethea stumbled, her side grazed.
Vera smirked. "You're not built to last."
Alethea narrowed her eyes. "But I'm built to win."
She used Vera's momentum, flipping her into a glass panel and slamming a neural disruptor to her neck.
Screams.
Twitches.
Collapse.
Vera hit the floor, shaking, teeth clenched.
Alethea stood over her, chest rising.
"I don't need to kill you," she said. "I just need what's in your mind."
Vera spat blood. "Then take it."
Alethea placed a memory spike against her temple—and downloaded her intel.
Files. Coordinates. Hidden labs. Names of remaining Board fugitives. A secret being formed in the East called "Project Genesis."
She pulled back just before Vera blacked out.
Marco came to her side. "You okay?"
She gave a weak nod, then whispered:
"They're building another me."
---
Back at their Tokyo safehouse, Alethea looked into the mirror—her reflection bloodied, yet composed.
"Is this who I wanted to become?" she asked softly.
Marco approached, arms encircling her waist.
"No," he said. "But this is the woman who will end them all."
She leaned against him.
Eyes glowing.
Heart still haunted.
But purpose—unshaken.
The war was far from over.
It had just entered its most dangerous phase.
TBC..................