Jay has already escaped the unknown location and came back to his apartment. But Jay didn’t sleep not after what happened in the lab and not after learning he might be a clone… or worse some kind of experiment. The following day the Neural Rebellion took him to a safehouse deep under the city. Hidden below a laundromat in Westpoint, it looked ordinary from above, but once inside, it was a fortress.
Steel doors, encrypted panels with cameras that blinked like blinking stars in a dark ceiling. Zia stood beside him as they entered the war room she was newly appointed by Neural Rebellion for helping Jay in a physical form. A wide table glowed with a digital map of the city. Every block, every satellite feed, every signal pulsed in real time. There were others around the table another team that is part of the Rebellion they were strangers to him he hadn't seen them. “Sit,” said Prism. Jay sat. He hadn’t eaten in over a day, but adrenaline filled the emptiness. One of the guys in the table leaned forward. “What you saw in the lab… that was just the shell. The face of Virexon. But behind them are something older. More dangerous. They call themselves the Architects.” Jay frowned. “What are they?” “They don’t build cities,” the guy added quietly. “They build control.” Zia tapped the map. “The Architects are a global network of elites—government officials, software developers, biotech moguls. They’ve been planting tech, thoughts, even memories in people’s heads for decades. Virexon is just one of their tools.” Jay leaned back, the truth making him dizzy. “And I’m one of their... what? Projects?” “No,” Prism voice echoed in his ear. “You were a mistake.” Zia explained, “They tried to create the perfect mind one that could be moved from body to body, adapted, uploaded, even duplicated. But your mind refused control it evolved and it didn’t just adapt it woke up.” Jay looked at his hands, like they didn’t belong to him. “So what now? They’ll kill me?” Zia nodded. “Worse. They’ll try to reclaim you. They’ll make you forget, erase your personality, copy your mind into other vessels.” Jay stood. “I’m not going to let that happen.” Just then, alarms blinked red on the table. Zia moved fast. “We’re traced they found the safehouse!” Everyone moved with weapons grabbed and data drives yanked. Jay turned toward the screen dozens of black SUVs were heading straight for them. “We have ten minutes!” someone shouted. Jay didn’t wait his power surged, telepathic senses expanding. He saw the enemy’s thoughts as clear as pages in a book: Secure Subject Chief. Terminate others. “They’re coming for me,” Jay whispered. “Not just to kill me they want to take me.” Zia grabbed his arm. “Come. This way.” They ran through a back tunnel narrow, wet, hidden behind a wall of fake dryers. They made it halfway when the wall behind them exploded. Flames roared, sreams echoed with Jay turning and saw one of the guys that was at the table fighting two masked soldiers, hid hands glowing with a strange blue energy he shouted, “Go! Now!” Zia dragged Jay through the tunnel. “We have another base. Across the river. But we need to disappear.” Once outside, they ran into a dark valley city that looked normal, the city was unaware of the chaos boiling beneath its streets. Jay finally stopped. “Wait. If they’re tracking me what if they already have?” Zia stared at him. Jay took a breath. “I need to go to the source.” Zia's eyes narrowed. “What source?” “Virexon’s main server. Headquarters. They won’t expect me to go back.” Zia shook her head. “That’s suicide.” “I don’t care,” Jay said. “I need answers. I need to know if my life was ever mine.” She sighed. “Then we do it together.” Three hours later, Jay and Zia stood across the street from Virexon Tower. Rain fell like thin needles with the guards looking normal but Jay could sense more. Thoughts inside their helmets and the mind control triggers buried in their earpieces. “We’ll never make it past the gate,” Zia muttered. Jay closed his eyes. And then he pushed his thoughts like a weapon. His mind expanded like smoke thoughts bent and guards froze. One by one, they stared blankly until Jay whispered into their heads: You see nothing we don’t exist. They stepped through the front door inside, everything was silent. The halls were colder now with lights brighter cameras buzzed like insects. They found the elevator. Zia scanned her palm, hacked the firewall, and bypassed the locks in seconds. “Top floor. That’s where they keep the mind core.” Jay said nothing, hands shaking. But inside, the storm was quiet. They stepped off into a white hallway. At the end stood a single black door. It opened before they touched it. Inside, the one of Architects waited. He wore a pale gray suit eyes the color of snow with skin too smooth and he looked... perfect but empty. “Jay Elric,” the man said. “Or should I say... Subject Chief.” Jay stepped forward, heart pounding. The Architect smiled. “You came home.” “I’m not yours,” Jay said. “I never was.” “Oh, but you were,” the man said. “Every thought. Every dream. Every fear. we planted them all. We let you believe you had control. That was the test.” Jay’s voice cracked. “You’re lying.” The Architect touched a screen. Suddenly, memories flooded the air like ghosts made of light. Jay saw flashes of his childhood with a burning fever and screams. But then... a second version with alab, tubes with code uploading into his brain. Zia gasped. “Jay... they copied your life. They wrote it.” Jay dropped to his knees. The Architect stepped closer. “But it’s not too late. Come with us. We can upgrade you. You’ll be more than human. You’ll be—” Jay stood. His voice steady. “Free.” He closed his eyes. And let go. His mind exploded outward, filling every wire, every screen, every tech drone circling the tower. Systems crashed, files erased with lights flickering. The Architect screamed. “Stop!” But Jay had become the virus. His thoughts rewrote the code with every secret, every blackmail file, every project leaked. All across the world, people’s phones blinked with headlines bursting onto the news feeds. VIREXON EXPOSED. ARCHITECTS FALL. The tower shook. Jay opened his eyes, glowing with psychic fire. “Goodbye,” he whispered. The Architect lunged—but Zia pulled Jay back just as the ceiling collapsed. They escaped through the service shaft, breathless, bleeding, alive. Outside, the tower burned. But it wasn’t over. Jay turned to Zia. “They’ll come again, won’t they?” Zia nodded. “Not all of them were here. The last Architect... is still in the shadows.” Jay looked out over the city, lit by sirens and firelight. “Then we find them.”
Latest Chapter
Chapter 55: Ashes and Inheritance
Verity didn’t sleep much that night her fingers moved absent mindedly over her sketchpad, but the lines had no meaning. Just noise she felt with the silence that comes before a storm, heavy and watchful. A soft knock came at her door she opened it, half expecting Damon. But it was Elian again Damon's friend coming to check her again. “Verity…” he said, more gently than usual. Her brows furrowed. “What is it?” “You need to come downstairs.” She followed him without asking where the common room of the safehouse was dim, lit by one tired bulb swinging from the ceiling. Everyone stood around the table and it was tense because of the silence. Someone had set down a data tablet Verity stepped closer. A newsfeed was playing with the headline hitting her like a cold slap: “Professor Marcus Alden, former cybersecurity lecturer turned biotech magnate billionaire, dies in private jet crash off on his way to the Mozambique coast.” She stared. “No… that’s not him he was careful.” Elian p
Chapter 54: What We Don't Say
Damon found Sabine sitting on the old bench outside the safehouse. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the gravel. She was staring at the horizon, legs crossed, a cigarette burning slowly between her fingers she hadn’t smoked in years he hesitated at the door. She didn’t look back. “I thought you’d be with her.” “I was,” he said. “But I needed to see you.” Sabine took a slow drag, exhaled. “Why? Guilt?” “No,” Damon said softly. “Because I owed you something more than silence.” She turned her head, finally meeting his eyes. “Then talk.” He walked over, sat beside her but didn’t touch her. The air between them was heavy, not with hate but with history. “I didn’t plan it,” he said after a while. “You and I were… real. You were my anchor.” “I was your shadow,” Sabine said, voice calm. “You went looking for me after I left this place and convinced me that we can build a future together. Don't you care about me anymore?." “I do care.” “You loved me out of surviva
Chapter 53: Her Decision, My Wound
Sabine stood outside the kitchen, still gripping the mug that had long gone cold she hadn’t meant to listen. But the moment she heard Damon’s voice through Verity’s cracked door, she knew something had changed. And now hours later Verity’s bag was still by her bed she didn’t leave. Sabine’s chest tightened aquiet storm brewed behind her eyes. She had held her tongue for weeks, letting things play out. But this was too much she found Verity alone in the hallway, tying back her hair and pretending like nothing had happened. “You’re still here,” Sabine said sharply. Verity turned, surprised. “Yeah. I decided not to leave.” “You decided,” Sabine repeated, her voice cold. “Just like that?” “You were the one begged me not to leave when things got hard,” Verity said calmly, brushing past her. But Sabine moved fast, stepping in front of her. “No,” she said. “But I just didn’t think you would change your mind just like that, especially after Damon begged you to stay. I heard you guys i
Chapter 52: The Door
The sound of the zipper was quiet, but it echoed in the room like a siren. Verity stood by her bed, stuffing the last piece of clothing into a worn black bag. She didn’t cry, she didn’t shake. Her hands were steady almost too steady. As if she’d practiced leaving in her head a hundred times before today. But she didn’t expect Damon to walk in as he closed the door behind him gently his eyes didn’t leave her. “So it’s true,” he said. His voice was low. Hurt. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye.” Verity froze. She didn’t turn around. “I didn’t think you’d understand,” she whispered. “Try me.” She finally turned her face looked tired but not broken but tired in a way that said she didn’t want to fight anymore. “I don’t belong in this war,” she said. “Not with my family. Not with you. Every day I stay here, I lose more of myself. I need out, Damon. I need air.” He nodded slowly, walking closer. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” “I was afraid you’d try to stop me.” “Maybe
Chapter 51: The Exit Plan
Sabine found Verity in the old study, hunched over the glowing screen of a cracked data pad. Outside, dusk was falling, casting long amber shadows across the safehouse walls. Inside, the tension was quieter but no less deadly. “Still tracking signals?” Sabine asked from the doorway. Verity didn’t look up. “No. Job hunting.” Sabine stepped inside. “For what?” “I studied journalism and now I am applying for journalist post and I would be able to expose Isabel in that way in the shadows” Verity's voice was flat, but the undercurrent was unmistakable. She wasn’t joking. She wasn’t pretending. Sabine's jaw tightened. “This isn’t the time to spiral into sentiment.” “It’s not sentiment.” Verity finally looked up. “It’s strategy. I want out.” Sabine blinked, once. “Out?” “Yes. I’m applying for off world trade contracts im going to start with small admin posts, resource distribution centers as well as journalism… anywhere beyond the war lines.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ea
Chapter 50: Fracture Lines
The kitchen was quiet with morning sunlight streaming through the cracked blinds, soft and gold, lighting dust motes in the air. The safehouse was still drowsy, its rooms silent but it was saved by the hum of an old refrigerator and the occasional creak of concrete shifting under heat. Verity stood at the sink, bent slightly as she rinsed out a mug. She was barefoot, wearing one of Damon’s old shirts over her own skirt too long in the sleeves, but she liked the way it hung over her shoulders, like armor she didn’t ask for. She didn’t hear him come in and didn’t know he was watching her until he spoke. “You always take the last clean mug.” His voice was casual, but there was heat behind it. Unspoken it was unshaken since the night in her room. Verity straightened, but not fully just enough to glance over her shoulder, hand still in the water. “Get up earlier next time.” Damon stepped closer too close the fridge hummed louder or maybe it was her pulse in her ears. “You wore my shir
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