An extreme whiteout blizzard suddenly erupted with blinding intensity. Ferocious winds howled across the frozen wasteland, dragging thick curtains of swirling snow through the air and forcing visibility to plummet to absolute zero. In the blink of an eye, the boundary between the night sky and the frozen earth vanished completely, merging into a single expanse of deadly white that could kill any living creature caught within it.Deep inside the warm hover capsule encased in reinforced glass, Elias let out a strained, raspy groan. Every blood vessel in his remaining right eyelid bulged until it looked ready to burst, while the bluish tint spreading across his face reflected unimaginable physical agony. His brain was being forced to endure the freezing feedback transmitted simultaneously from the fifty corpse hosts under his control.Yet in stark contrast to Elias' suffering, Kael Thorne stood outside the capsule with a savage grin stretching across his cracked lips."Our visibility is

The air along the steel corridor felt stiflingly warm, dry, and sterile. It was a jarring, painful contrast to the bloody horror that had just unfolded behind the reinforced double blast doors now sealed tight behind them.Kael Thorne crept down the long metal corridor, his footsteps completely silent. He held his breath as long as he could, trying to stifle the frantic pounding of his heart, which was racing from the adrenaline surge. Beads of cold sweat mixed with fresh blood dripped from his temple, tracing down his tense jawline. Using what little strength remained in his good left hand, the former detective kept Elias’s hover capsule gliding soundlessly across the polished metal floor.They moved with absolute caution, weaving through gaps in a network of massive industrial pipes that hissed bursts of hot steam into the air at regular intervals. In this inner sector of Tartarus, Kael found no sign of human guards on routine patrol, a realization that offered his chest a brief mom

PRANGGG! CRAAASSSHH!The shattering of the fifty giant glass tubes sounded like a minor apocalypse inside the assembly hangar. Millions of liters of synthetic amniotic fluid swept across the steel floor, creating an ankle-deep green flood that carried razor-sharp shards of glass.In the middle of the deluge, fifty pale human figures rose to their feet. The medical cables plugged into their spines and heads tore free with a sickening squelch of ripping flesh as they stepped forward.They were naked, wet, and fragile. Yet their white eyes radiated the madness of a single, absolute consciousness. The Ghost of Saint-Bastian.The three Overseers, massive machines clad in black steel armor, spun their red optical lenses, shifting their targets from Kael Thorne to the wave of living corpses."Biological anomaly detected. Slaughter protocol activated," an emotionless, mechanical voice echoed from the chests of the Overseers.DOOOM! DOOOM! TRATATATATA!Double-barreled rifles and submachine gun

TING.The executive elevator doors of titanium steel parted with a smooth, near-silent hiss, revealing a vast room whose atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the rest of the industrial architecture inside the Tartarus Facility.Silas Vancroft’s throne room occupied the highest floor of the colossal ice dome. The layout of this sector bore none of the characteristics of a military factory or a cold experimental laboratory. The floor was laid with polished black marble that reflected images with mirror-like perfection, while the back wall was dominated by a curved expanse of bulletproof glass, offering a direct view of the howling Arctic blizzard outside. A piercing chill bled through the seams of the structure, but a concealed heating system kept the ambient temperature stable.With both hands raised to his shoulders, his body covered in burn marks and tears from shrapnel, Kael Thorne slowly stepped forward, pushing Elias’s hover capsule out of the elevator compartment.Right in the c

BZZAAP-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!The echoes from the detonation of Sloane’s homemade electromagnetic pulse slowly began to fade from the air, leaving behind a suffocating stillness that felt heavy, silent, and freezing.The throne room, perched on the hundredth floor of the Vancroft Tower, was plunged into absolute darkness. Every fluorescent tube and emergency light fixture in the ceiling had shattered into pieces. Security monitor screens and main computer consoles died instantly, leaving not a single glint of power behind. The automated room heaters, which had previously hummed with a constant drone, died simultaneously, allowing the extreme chill of the Arctic blizzard outside the curved glass walls to rush in, creeping through pores slick with cold sweat.Upon the cold black marble floor, a dozen killing machines from the Elite Lazarus ranks collapsed in various heaps like a pile of wooden puppets whose strings had been violently severed. Every microchip circuit embedded inside their stee