"They're coming," the voice whispered, barely audible above the howling winter wind that pressed against the frosted windows of the cramped St. Petersburg apartment. Ice crystals formed intricate patterns on the glass, a delicate contrast to the harsh realities inside.Twelve-year-old Mikhail Volkov looked up from his worn mathematics textbook, meeting his father's intense gaze. Yuri Volkov—former KGB officer, now a shadow of his former self—stood by the window, cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes scanning the street outside with the practiced vigilance of a man who had seen too much."Who's coming, Papa?" Mikhail asked, his voice steady, betraying none of the fear that might have consumed a normal child. The room was a testament to faded glory—Soviet-era wallpaper peeling at the edges, a single hanging lamp casting long shadows, and the smell of cheap tobacco and desperation hanging in the air.Yuri turned, the harsh lamplight casting deep shadows across his weathered face. His KG

Sinaloa, Mexico—Roots of Power"They're coming," the voice cut through the humid night of the Sinaloa desert, sharp as the machete hanging from the weathered truck's gun rack.Carlos Hernandez stood motionless, his silhouette blending with the rugged landscape that had birthed generations of his family. The night was thick with anticipation, with secrets that moved like heat waves across the barren terrain. Generations of Hernandez history were etched into this unforgiving land—each rock, each patch of dry earth a silent witness to a legacy far more complex than simple survival."Who's coming, Papa?" Diego Hernandez, barely fifteen, stepped closer to his father. Unlike most boys his age, he moved with a calculated precision that spoke of years of careful observation. His eyes—dark as obsidian, sharp as the family's reputation—scanned the moonlit desert.Rafael Hernandez turned, his eyes—hard as the ground beneath their feet—surveying the landscape. The dusty compound stretched before

San Francisco, California—The Epicenter of Connection"They're watching," the voice cut through the fog-laden night of San Francisco, sharp as the encrypted communication device hidden beneath layers of technological security.The conference room at Stanford University was more than a simple meeting space. It was a nexus—a point where invisible networks converged, where the lines between academic research and global power blurred into something entirely different.Sophia Packer stood motionless by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her reflection a ghost against the city's technological landscape. Behind her, four communication devices pulsed with encrypted messages—each representing a different network, a different legacy.The room held the four young heirs—Mikhail Volkov from Russia, Antonio Moretti from Italy, Carlos Hernandez from Mexico, and Jack Sullivan from the United States. Each carried the weight of generations, each a living algorithm of power and survival."The networks are co

Zurich, Switzerland - The CrucibleTime fractured in the smoke-filled chamber. Ten identical faces locked in silent assessment—predators recognizing predators."The Protocol lied to you," the golden Sophia said, her voice a perfect echo of the original. "As it has lied for five centuries."The chamber's emergency systems struggled to compensate for the breach, ancient mechanisms grinding beneath stone floors. Warning lights bathed the confrontation in crimson and amber, casting twin shadows behind each figure.Grey moved with unexpected speed, drawing a weapon that seemed to phase between solid and energy. "This is a containment breach. The Counter-Protocol is attempting to corrupt the inheritors."The golden Jack laughed—a sound identical to his counterpart's dangerous cadence. "We're not corrupting anything. We're revealing."Antonio—the original—felt the golden light spreading through his veins, burning like ice beneath his skin. Everything about these doppelgängers screamed danger

Global Network—The Choice PointTime compressed into a singular moment across five continents.In Sicily, Antonio faced Salvador Moretti amidst cloned versions of himself. In Moscow, Mikhail confronted Viktor Volkov within a fortress of Soviet-era protocol technology. In Mexico City, Carlos stood before Alejandro Hernandez in a temple built atop Aztec ruins. In New York, Sophia faced Margaret Packer in a skyscraper of glass and quantum circuitry. In the Swiss Alps, Jack engaged William Sullivan within a bunker carved from a mountain.Five confrontations. One connected consciousness. One spreading corruption.The crimson infection traveled through their golden connection—a genetic kill switch activated simultaneously by five patriarchs who had prepared for this contingency for generations."You believed the Blood Protocol was your salvation," Salvador's voice echoed through Antonio's consciousness, simultaneously heard by all five heirs through their shared connection. "In reality, it