‎Nothing stayed buried after tonight.‎Prime’s warning lingered in the fractured executive corridor long after the words ended.‎The sterile Sector lights continued flooding the ruined floor with cold white illumination while the ancient elevator remained open before them, waiting. Patient.‎Like it knew Adrian would eventually return, not as CEO, not as Adrian Voss. As Subject Zero. As inheritance.‎The thought should have unsettled him. It didn’t.‎That frightened Elena more. Because Adrian looked calmer now. Not relieved. Not resolved. Worse. "Certain."‎The elevator waited.‎The system repeated softly: "Subject Zero authorization accepted."‎Victor stared.‎“…I genuinely hate when buildings talk.”‎No one answered.‎Because everyone’s attention remained fixed on Adrian.‎He stood motionless for several seconds. Then his gaze shifted toward Prime. One movement. Enough.‎The giant remained tense, chains hanging from scarred wrists while something close to dread lived behind his ruin

‎The empty one always came before devastation.‎Prime recognized it immediately.‎His visible eye sharpened beneath ruined tissue, chains hanging from scarred wrists while something close to dread settled over his damaged expression.‎Because years ago, long before Blackstone, long before Adrian Voss, long before War God, Subject Zero used to become quiet before entire rooms stopped breathing. And Prime remembered too well.‎The corridor remained frozen after the execution broadcast ended.‎The dead screen reflected sterile white Sector lights.‎Smoke from damaged infrastructure still drifted faintly through fractured windows.‎Outside the city burned but Inside, something colder was unfolding.‎Nobody spoke first. Not Victor. Not Elena. Not Marcus through static communication lines. Not even Lila.‎Because the message wasn’t directed at them. It never was.‎"Come claim your throne." The sentence lingered. Wrong. Heavy. Personal.‎Adrian stood motionless near the ancient elevator. His

‎The war had finally become personal.‎Silence remained in the shattered executive corridor long after Roland Voss’ voice disappeared from Blackstone Tower’s systems.‎No one moved immediately because the invitation carried too many meanings.‎"Come home." Not a welcome.‎A summons.‎A challenge.‎A declaration.‎And now, the entire city would watch what Adrian Voss chose to do next.‎Outside Blackstone Tower, rain began falling harder across the city.‎Thunder rolled above skyscrapers while emergency sirens echoed through financial districts already collapsing into panic.‎News helicopters crossed the skyline.‎Police barricades formed around burning streets.‎Private security forces openly exchanged fire near corporate compounds.‎The city no longer looked civilized. It looked occupied.‎Victor Kane checked the latest reports flooding his tablet. His expression worsened every few seconds.‎“…The funeral is already trending globally.”‎Marcus groaned through static communication chan

‎Before dawn arrived, the entire city would witness the return of the War God.‎Rain hammered against Blackstone Tower as the convoy prepared below.‎The city lights blurred beneath sheets of water, transforming the skyline into a sea of reflections and distant sirens.‎Everything felt suspended.‎Balanced on the edge of something inevitable.‎Inside the executive level, final preparations moved quickly.‎Victor coordinated security teams.‎Marcus maintained communication channels from the Vale district.‎Damien monitored underground movements despite his injury.‎Elena handled emergency directives for Hale Group.‎Everyone was moving.‎Everyone except Adrian.‎He stood near the shattered window overlooking the storm. Silent. Watching. Thinking.‎The dangerous kind of thinking.‎Prime noticed immediately. Of course.‎The giant remained near the ancient elevator.‎The Sector lights reflected off old scars and broken chains while his visible eye never strayed far from Adrian.‎Watching.

‎For the first time in five years, Adrian Voss stepped onto Voss soil.‎Rain crashed against the estate grounds.‎Lightning split the sky above ancient stone walls while hundreds of floodlights illuminated the sprawling property.‎The moment Adrian's polished shoes touched the wet pavement... Everything stopped. Not literally but it felt that way.‎The reporters stopped shouting.‎The security teams froze.‎The crowds beyond the barricades fell strangely silent.‎Even the rain seemed quieter.‎For years, Adrian Voss had existed as a rumor.‎A missing heir.‎A disgraced son.‎A ghost.‎A man who vanished after the collapse of the old Voss family.‎And now, the ghost had returned.‎Camera flashes exploded across the entrance. Thousands of them, one after another. Blinding. Relentless.‎The media surged forward immediately.‎Questions flew through the storm.‎"Mr. Voss!"‎"Are you the War God?"‎"Did you return for the funeral?"‎"Is Blackstone involved in the recent attacks?"‎"Are rumo