The Black Folder
The folder was matte black, slim, and unmarked save for one phrase embossed in silver:
SIGMA PROTOCOL: ASCENSION.
Cole sat at the vault desk, heart pounding as he stared at the sealed case. The low hum of monitors filled the room, showing surveillance feeds, financial graphs, and encrypted files. The cold recycled air made him even more uneasy. The data on the screens faded from his mind. All he could feel was his own apprehension.
The emptiness left by his father's absence was all that mattered, the ache filling the quiet room. Cole opened the folder slowly, bracing himself for something powerful, but not a weapon.
Inside there were four items:
A high-security flash drive labeled "Black Crown."
A hand-drawn global map, marked with assets, encrypted routes, and symbols only Charles knew.
A list of names, some crossed out, others circled in red ink, all coded.
And a single handwritten letter in ink that had bled slightly from age or sweat:
Cole,
If you're reading this, the game has begun.
This is your first move, and you must make it as if your life burns for it. You cannot fight them in the light—they own it. They will try to destroy you before you ever learn their faces. You must become what they fear: invisible, relentless, untouchable. Remember, son, love is a dagger; it can protect or pierce depending on how you wield it. Navigate the shadows wisely.
I've placed assets in hidden channels. A company registered under "SIGMA Psy Holdings," a hidden bank under your mother's maiden alias, and a contact who will only respond to the phrase: Even blades break in silence.
Master the system. Trust Dario. Activate S.I.G.M.A.
And never forget: You don't need to reclaim my legacy.
Forge your own.
—Dad
Cole read the letter twice.
Then a third time.
His fingers hovered over the flash drive. "Black Crown."
He inserted it into the main vault terminal. The interface instantly shimmered to life, requiring a triple-authentication handshake. Retina. Voice. Biometric pulse.
"Cole Alden Vale," he said evenly. "Authorization Sigma-Zero-One."
The screen cracked open into a branching menu of horrors.
He found financial records showing billions of dollars moved into fake accounts, lists of board members linked to criminal groups and spies, and reports of corporate espionage. One folder, Killian-Heart, held surveillance videos, audio files, and transcripts, including the order that led to Elena's death.
Nausea hit him as Cole's eyes locked on the evidence. He gripped the desk, knuckles white with grief. Elena's laughter flashed through his mind, a sharp memory amid the revelations. He kept staring and refused to look away.
At the very end was a segment titled simply "The Algorithm."
He clicked it.
And there, rendered in cold blue lines across the screen, was the S.I.G.M.A. interface.
A neural-adaptive system, voice-synced to Charles Vale. It blinked twice, then spoke in the calm, ghostly voice of his father's AI:
"Welcome, Executor. Protocol Ascension: Initialized."
Cole leaned back, his lungs tight. He struggled to breathe, caught between rage and awe. Inside, he felt something fragile about to break, but underneath, a cold resolve was taking shape. He had no tears left.
All that was left was a sense of purpose, cold and certain.
The jet descended toward a private airstrip over the rough ocean. As the clouds cleared, an emerald island came into view. Most people would see a luxury resort with villas, solar towers, and white beaches. But hidden below was a fortress.
Cole Alden Vale stood next to Dario, silent as he looked through the tinted glass. He was the only heir of a powerful man. At fifteen, grief had made him thin and tired. His eyes looked older than he was, full of heavy thoughts. He wondered if he was ready, or if the weight would crush him. In that quiet moment, he looked both young and burdened by legacy. But a spark of resolve appeared. He would make his own way.
The jet touched down with a hiss of steam.
They were met by a woman in a tailored gray uniform, an AI-linked steward assigned to Charles's contingencies.
"Executor," she greeted with a soft bow. "Your arrival has been pre-cleared. The vault is ready."
Dario glanced at him. "Let's go."
Inside, the facility was sleek and bare. Biometric scanners lit up as they walked by, and hidden turrets lined the walls. Cole took in the new surroundings and focused.
The central vault door was a foot thick, made of layered metal and black glass, designed for maximum security.
A retinal scanner blinked.
"State identity," came the mechanical prompt.
Cole stepped forward, voice clear despite the age of his vessel.
"Cole Alden Vale."
There was a pause. Then:
ACCESS GRANTED.
Inside, lights shimmered on the curved ceiling. The chamber looked part-throne room, part-machine, with screens showing files, protocols, training material, financial data, and his father's logs.
The vault wasn't just a panic room.
It was a place for revenge and a chance to start over, full of both hope and danger.
In the center stood a pedestal.
A sealed black briefcase.
Cole approached slowly. He didn't hesitate. He pressed his thumb to the lock. The case opened with a hiss.
A single folder sat within.
SIGMA PROTOCOL: ASCENSION.
He opened it.
Inside were technical documents, designs, equations on interdimensional energy, soul-mapping charts, and a final handwritten letter.
Handwritten.
Cole,
If you're reading this, you somehow, somewhere survived. Or someone like you did. Either way, this is my final contingency.
SIGMA Protocol is more than escape. It's a rebirth.
My soul is embedded in this device, imprinted and encoded from the moment the protocol was created. When an authorized executor activates it, my fragment binds with the system's AI, seeking a compatible host across space and time, not on Earth, but in a realm with new rules, where power is earned differently.
I will arrive in a vessel barely holding on, a weak or dying soul. Override it. Inhabit it. Rebuild from nothing.
Reach the Celestial Realm. Transcend space and time. If I succeed… I will even have the choice to return and to change the past.
You don't have to reclaim my legacy.
Pave your own.
Always,
Dad
Cole read the letter twice, his hands steady.
His gaze drifted to the neural key drive embedded in the case wall.
He lifted it.
Dario's voice broke the silence. "It's time."
Cole nodded.
The vault lights dimmed as the screen lit up. Dario placed Charles' preserved body at the center chamber.
"Welcome, Executor," said the AI. "SIGMA Protocol: Ascension...Initialized."
And the man who had been Charles Vale, no longer in his world, no longer in his body, stared into the storm of destiny as the system activated its final directive.
A flash of light surged from the vault's core, bathing Charles' body in a pulse of dimensional energy. His body collapsed.
But his soul had already gone.
Echoes in the Machine
The moment Charles's preserved physical body collapsed in the vault, a surge of energy pulsed through the chamber. Screens flickered wildly. Core systems recalibrated. A sphere of pure soul resonance encased the neural key, humming like a living heart.
Back in the island control tower, red alerts blared. Automated defenses went on standby. Systems recognized the ascension event as an authorized transfer.
Inside the vault, Charles's neural imprint with encoded memories, combat instincts, economic models, psychological thresholds, and even vocal inflections, was injected into the AI core. SIGMA didn't merely copy Charles Vale.
It became him.
[Executor Signature Verified.] [Initializing Interdimensional Protocol: Project Rebirth.]
The chamber grew still.
Then a sphere of violet energy burst outward—silent, unseen by the world. A ripple in the very fabric of reality tore open, folding Charles's soul into a thread of energy no longer bound by space or time.
The vault sealed behind him.
Hours later, the backup AI confirmed: Project Rebirth Success.
In another world, the whisper of Charles Vale's will surged through the cosmos. It sought a host. It scanned weak souls, those on the brink of death. A dying boy, buried in the forgotten wing of a noble manor, flickered into view.
[Compatible Host Found. Initiating Transmigration…] [Binding Dominant Soul: Charles Alden Vale]
And across universes, a fallen titan prepared to rise again.
The Legacy Protocol
In a lower facility level, behind a meter-thick metal wall, quantum-cooled servers processed and stored sensitive data.
The lights dimmed, then flickered alive in a rhythmic pattern, as new instructions surged through the secure Quantum Channel, one tethered directly to Charles Alden Vale's genetic encryption.
[Backup Subroutine Activation: SIGMA Legacy Layer Initialized.]
The system's voice was activated, but it wasn't the cold intonation of some lifeless AI assistant. It spoke with his voice, Charles's voice, precise, charismatic, woven with intellect and ambered with a fire that had never quite gone out.
"Legacy is not set in stone or signatures. It's written in what you leave behind… and who's willing to bleed for it."
Screens across the chamber lit up. They mapped Earth's secret power players: energy companies, defense firms, information cartels, and pharmaceutical giants, all highlighted in red and blue. But the system was not just watching; it was controlling their routes.
It was rerouting them.
One by one, hidden investment pipelines shifted. Shell companies reactivated. Disavowed satellites stirred in orbit. Deep-black accounts long believed dormant and forgotten across six continents resurfaced, their balances quietly pulsing to life under pseudonym cryptonyms: Alpha Ember, Aegis Phantom, Hollow Crown.
[Stage 1: Sigma Rebirth Investment Tree Launched.]
Meanwhile, in the command deck above, Dario stood before the holoprojection of cascading data, arms crossed, jaw set in the quiet way of men who'd seen too much.
"He's still moving the board," he murmured.
Behind him, the door hissed open.
Cole entered.
Older now.
Weeks had passed since the transfer. The boy who once staggered under grief now carried the weight of purpose. He was lean, his black combat vest fitting a body shaped by training. His hands were calloused, his stance steady. Though his eyes were focused, they sometimes revealed doubt, a brief flicker that showed the boy he used to be, wondering if this path was his to choose.
His eyes were no longer wide. They were sharp. Focused.
"He left it all for me, didn't he?" Cole asked quietly.
Dario didn't answer immediately. He turned to look at the boy, or rather, the heir, and slowly nodded.
"Not just wealth," he said. "Infrastructure. Blueprints. Secrets. A thousand traps already sprung and a thousand more waiting for someone to misstep."
Cole stepped closer, gaze fixed on the growing map of Earth's resurging power structures.
"And if he succeeds… in that other world?" he asked, voice tight.
Dario's eyes glinted beneath the artificial light. "Then Earth won't just remember him as a legend," he replied. "He'll be a myth across two universes."
Silence settled between them. Heavy. Inevitable.
But below them, beneath the weight of legacy, the system moved without pause. Algorithms danced. Firewalls adapted. Cryptographic decoys misdirected every trace. And at the very heart of the protocol, an encrypted subroutine pulsed awake:
[Executor Neural-Shadow Interface Activated]
A central console extended from the server bank like a reverent offering. A new display screen shimmered to life, revealing the spectrograph of Charles' last recorded vocal patterns now refined, now alive, synthesized into an adaptive interface. It wasn't just imitation. It was present.
The terminal spoke again, Charles's voice, reconstructed from emotion, breath, cadence, and intent.
"Hello, Cole."
Cole's breath hitched. Even now, even here, the echo of his father struck like lightning under his ribs.
A side tab on the console blinked open:
[EXECUTOR'S POSTMORTEM LOG – SESSION 01]
Cole… if you're reading this, then I've already made the jump. What's left behind is more than contingency. It's a doctrine. Rule one: Never reveal everything. Rule two: Never trust those who once profited from your silence. Rule three… make them regret ever underestimating you. Above all, ask yourself, what will you sacrifice first?
Cole leaned in. There it was again, that voice. That mind. Calculated and cutting, but always reaching toward something more.
The log expanded into dozens of modules, manuals on cybernetic stealth protocols, underground communication networks, re-engineered tech, corporate espionage, and even detailed case studies of betrayals he'd never known about. Every tool for war, seeded in shadow.
But this wasn't just a manual.
It was an indoctrination.
One forged in the crucible of betrayal, survival, and vision.
Charles hadn't just prepared Cole to inherit. He had prepared him to ascend.
To make the system fear him.
Suddenly, red warning lights pulsed once in the core chamber. The system didn't halt, no. It transitioned. Elevated. And a new string of code was deployed across the display.
[Final Directive: Monitor Dimensional Resonance Fluctuations. Establish Temporal Return Beacon. Await Verification of Subject Reemergence.]
Because the SIGMA Protocol hadn't just sent Charles's consciousness to another world.
It had left a thread behind.
A beacon.
Waiting for the day his soul amplified, reshaped, reborn, might tear a hole through space-time itself and find his way back.
Cole stood still for a long time, fingers hovering above the console.
Then, finally, he touched the panel.
"Legacy received," he whispered.
And far beneath the sea, the system accepted its new executor.
Not a replacement.
An evolution.
A legacy not of memory but of will.