​The first forty-eight hours after the "Death of the Hero" were a whirlwind of performative grief and cold, strategic expansion.​Liya Chen sat in the high-backed leather chair of the Chen Group’s executive office. Before her, three of the family’s top lawyers and the head of security stood in a line, their eyes fixed on the floor. The air in the room was heavy, vibrating with the residual frequency of her Authority (Lv. 1).​"The Zhang Clan’s properties in the industrial district," Liya said, her voice like cracking ice. "Have the acquisition papers been finalized?"​"M-Miss Chen," the lead lawyer stammered. "The Zhangs are protesting. They claim the seismic activity during the... incident... was caused by our equipment. They're demanding an international inquiry."​Liya didn't blink. In her mind’s eye, a HUD flickered to life, filtering the lawyer’s heartbeat and pupil dilation.​[INSIGHT (LV. 1) ACTIVE: TARGET IS HIDING FEAR. TRUTH PROBABILITY: 98%.]​"The Zhangs will not be protes

​The white fluid finished coalescing. It didn't form a monster or a soldier in armor. It formed a man in a pristine, white bespoke suit, mirroring the one the Architect had worn at the auction. His face was symmetrical, handsome, and terrifyingly devoid of pores or sweat.​He stood between Liya and the vault door, his hands clasped casually behind his back.​"Please, Mrs. Chen," the Architect said, his voice resonating from the walls rather than his lips. "There is no need for crude violence. We are civilized beings. Builders. Creators."​Liya gripped the handle of the heavy briefcase in one hand and the silver pistol in the other. Her knuckles were white.​He’s blocking the signal, Zane’s voice warned, sounding distant, as if he were shouting from the bottom of a well. I can’t cycle the Veil’s combat mode. He’s dampening the Spark.​"You want the bones," Liya said, her voice steady thanks to Authority (Lv. 1) suppressing her biological fear response. "Step aside, or I will test if yo

​The helicopter—a matte-black Chen Logistics VTOL, stripped of its corporate logos and retrofitted with military-grade plating—cut through the screaming winds of the Northern Tundra.​Inside the cabin, the temperature was a comfortable sixty degrees, but Liya Chen felt the chill deep in her bones. She sat strapped into the jump seat, checking the seals on her new environment suit. The Widow’s Veil was gone, replaced by the Polaris mk.I—a bulky, white-and-grey armored exosuit designed by the System and printed by the Sanctuary’s drones over the last seventy-two hours.​"Three minutes to the drop zone, Ms. Chen," the pilot’s voice crackled over the comms. He was a former PMC mercenary on the Chen payroll, paid triple his usual rate to ask zero questions. "The weather radar is... wrong. It’s showing a blizzard, but I can see the stars."​"Ignore the radar, Pilot," Liya said, her voice filtered through the helmet’s modulator. "Fly by line-of-sight. The storm isn't meteorological; it’s ene

​Seventy-two hours after the Northern Rift expedition, Liya Chen stood in the penthouse elevator of the Golden Lotus—the city’s most exclusive, and most illegal, high-stakes club.​She was not wearing armor. She wore a tailored crimson silk suit that cost more than the average citizen made in a year. Her hair was slicked back, her makeup severe. She looked every inch the ruthless CEO of the Chen empire, newly inherited and aggressively expanded.​But beneath the silk, the Widow’s Veil was active, a second skin humming with latent power. And beneath the makeup, her eyes scanned the elevator’s biometric sensors with the cold precision of Insight (Lv. 2).​"Are you sure about this contact, Zane?" she murmured, checking her reflection.​Madame K is neutral ground, Zane’s voice replied, sounding stronger now that they were back in the city's energy field. She’s mortal, but she’s been fencing Scion tech and brokering mercenary contracts for twenty years. The Architect uses her banking syste

​Liya leaned against the damp concrete wall of the contestant locker room, her chest heaving. The 800 units of bio-energy she had just absorbed felt like a ball of liquid lead in her sternum, heavy and radiating heat.​You’re shaking, Liya, Zane’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. The energy harvest isn't just data. It’s the raw, chaotic lifeforce of a Scion-infused monster. Your heart is struggling to process the intake.​"I’m fine," she whispered, though her vision blurred. "I just need a minute before the next round."​[CURRENT BIO-ENERGY: 800 / 10,000][WARNING: HOST VITALITY AT 65%. BIO-ENERGY OVERLOAD DETECTED.]​The door to the locker room hissed open. Liya’s hand went instinctively to the silver pistol, but she didn't draw.​Standing in the doorway was a woman she recognized—not from the arena, but from the high-society galas she used to attend. It was Vara, the Scion Infiltrator she had fought in the Faculty Lounge (Chapter 11). She looked different now: her high-fashion s