Her gaze flicked up, pinning him. "You felt it, didn’t you? When you were down there."
He didn’t answer imdiately. "...You were watching?"
"Every room in this building has a feed." She folded her arms. "It responded to you, Everhart. It pulsed when you stepped near it. We ran diagnostics all night trying to replicate that interaction, nothing. Not with anyone else."
rlin’s heart beat once, twice, slower than before. "And what are you implying?"
"That Kael will want to exploit it," she said bluntly. "And that you, willingly or not, might beco his key."
Her words hung between them, cold and heavy.
rlin’s mind ran through the implications. In the novel, the world he’d read and now lived, Invoke had never created sothing called the Lazarus Directive. It hadn’t existed. aning this was new. Sothing branching from his presence.
He hid that thought behind calm eyes. "You think I should vote against the project."
Regina t his gaze evenly. "I think you should vote for oversight. Force Kael to submit Lazarus to external evaluation. The board won’t like it, but it’s the only way to slow him down."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you’ll be helping him build sothing that might not stop at obedience."
rlin exhaled softly, gaze drifting back to the shard. "You’re certain it’s dangerous?"
"I’m certain it’s curious," Regina corrected. "And curiosity, Mr. Everhart, is more dangerous than hatred when it belongs to sothing that can’t die."
He studied her in silence. Regina wasn’t pleading; she wasn’t emotional. Just calculating, the sa way she studied schematics. But beneath the precision, there was fatigue. Fear, maybe.
He broke the quiet. "You’re the only one who knows this?"
Her mouth tightened. "Officially, yes. Unofficially... Damien might suspect. He always does."
"The quiet one?"
"The one who never misses a pattern." She stepped back toward the glass, resting her hand lightly against it. "If he finds out you know, you’ll beco a variable he’ll want to control."
rlin’s tone remained steady. "And Kael?"
"Kael believes control is an illusion. He doesn’t restrain power, he seduces it."
rlin let the words sink in. Then he smiled faintly. "I can see why you wanted to know all this."
"Because you’re not afraid of him," Regina said.
"Because you need soone who isn’t."
For the first ti, her expression softened, just slightly. "Maybe."
She turned toward one of the consoles and tapped a few commands. A holographic projection filled the space between them, the full model of the Lazarus Core, rotating slowly in white light.
"This is what we’re dealing with. Every strand here is a containnt algorithm woven into the mana lattice. See the fractures along the left hemisphere?"
He leaned closer. "Looks like stress points."
"Not stress. Expansion." She enlarged the model; the cracks glowed faintly. "It’s growing. On its own. And the more energy it receives, the more the structure reorganizes itself, as though it’s... reaching for balance."
rlin frowned. "You an it’s evolving to survive."
"Exactly."
The hologram dimd, leaving only the glow of the shard in its cylinder.
Regina’s voice dropped low, quieter now. "When Kael says it can rewrite dependency, he’s not lying. The Lazarus Core could remove the need for human maintenance. It could power weapons indefinitely, heal infrastructure, even run entire cities without fuel. But if it decides humans are inefficient components—"
"Then it stops listening," rlin finished.
She nodded once. "And Invoke becos its first test subject."
Silence again. The hum of machines filled the void between them.
rlin glanced at her. "You said you think it’s already evolving without human interference."
"I don’t think, Mr. Everhart. I know."
She gestured toward a side monitor displaying data logs. "Yesterday, between 02:00 and 03:00, Unit Seven emitted a burst of non-coded energy. No mana fluctuation, no external trigger. Yet the pattern it produced—" She zood in on the waveform, the lines forming symtrical peaks and valleys. "—matches a biological rhythm. Like a heartbeat."
rlin’s chest tightened slightly. He rembered that pulse. The way it had mirrored his own.
He masked his reaction. "And you haven’t told Kael?"
Her gaze hardened. "Would you?"
"...No."
"Then you understand."
Regina stepped closer, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. "If you value this company, or yourself, vote for external oversight tomorrow. Delay the Directive. Buy us ti to understand it."
rlin t her eyes. "You’re assuming it can be understood."
"That’s all science is," she said. "Assuming the universe plays by rules. Even when it doesn’t."
He studied her, the sharp lines of her face, the exhaustion hidden behind calm precision. She wasn’t lying. Everything about her posture, her tone, scread desperate honesty.
Finally, rlin nodded once. "I’ll think about it."
Regina gave a short breath that was almost relief. "That’s all I ask."
By the ti he left Lab C-12, the day had stretched high above the city. The tower’s top floors glead under sunlight, clouds drifting like bruised silk across the horizon.
rlin paused in the elevator, running a hand through his hair. Kael’s conviction. Regina’s fear. Two sides of the sa blade.
He stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall.
Golden eyes, faint shadows beneath them.
He muttered under his breath, "You people are playing with gods."
But deep down, he wasn’t sure whether he ant them or himself.
When the elevator opened into the lobby, a familiar voice greeted him.
"Mr. Everhart."
Damien Cross stood there, unassuming as ever, simple suit, faint smile, eyes too calm.
rlin masked his surprise instantly. "Mr. Cross."
"I hear you’ve been making friends." Damien’s tone was light, conversational. "Busy morning?"
rlin returned the smile. "Getting familiar with the building."
"Oh, I’m sure you are." Damien’s gaze didn’t waver. "Be careful, though. So of our labs... bite back."
The air shifted. It wasn’t a threat, not openly, but the ssage was clear.
rlin tucked his hands into his pockets, voice steady. "Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind."
Damien inclined his head politely. "Do. The board eting tomorrow should be... enlightening."
He walked away, footsteps fading into the hum of the lobby.
rlin exhaled slowly, the faint pulse still thrumming beneath his skin.
He had a feeling tomorrow wouldn’t just decide a project.
It would decide what kind of world they were about to build.
And for the first ti since stepping into this story, rlin wasn’t sure he knew how it ended.
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