The morning has a grey streak across the sky as Miley stepped into the Duke of Glamorgan’s study, feeling like she was holding herself together with much difficulty. She didn't even flinch to stop or explain why she was there. Instead her spine was made of steel. She was standing confidently, looking like the true heiress of the Duke. Aurelia was walking in step with her, her lips pressed into a thin line. In her life, she had seen way too many wars, but this trail was the most difficult one of her life. Duke Morgan looked up from his desk, brows drawn, with his own worries and exhaustion buried under layers of nobility and responsibility. “You found something.”Aurelia stepped forward before Miley could speak. “He’s alive. We have triangulated the frequency, and the signal is bouncing through shielded terrain. It has military grade shielding, so clearly, they have no shortage of funds.”The Duke frowned. “That would put him in one of the old Black Zones. Off-grid territories.

Inside the flagship light of the containment chamber, Julius’s body spasmed, locked between unnatural power and synthetic paralysis. But in his mind, there was another war raging on. A war that was far worse.He saw himself standing in the middle of a burning city, while ash fell like snow around him. As far as the eye could see, skyscrapers collapsed in silence. Smoke curled upward like mourning veils, and civilians screamed in a language he didn’t understand. He looked around in confusion, but he could barely understand anything that was going on. He looked down at his own hands, which were partially mechanized, and covered in silver armour. But what caught him off guard was how monstrous they were… all his limbs were dripping with blood.“This is what you were made for.”The voice echoed across his skull, like a cold reminder. The Winter Lily director, who was long dead… he was standing in front of him, his face hollow and eyes glowing red in the hallucination.Julius roared

The fluorescent lights of the Whitewing Medical Center buzzed faintly, humming over the polished marble that reflected nothing but cold efficiency. It smelled like bleach, iodine, and a quiet tension that clung to the walls.Julius sat in the private ward’s recliner, his frame still recovering from the mountain collapse and neural trauma. A faint IV line dripped sedatives into his bloodstream, dulling the fire that always simmered under his skin.The nurse entered briskly, scanning her tablet. “Colton, Julius. Room 4B. Huh.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought they would at least keep you somewhere more… fitting.”He looked up, calm, unreadable. His vitals beeped steadily behind him.The nurse, Clara, as her tag read, smirked. ““You look familiar. Weren’t you the one always waiting in the Nolan estate’s back halls? You were their dog, right? The blood donor, who was forced to donate so much blood that his own body went into shock? Hmm, I've heard about you.”Julius didn’t resp