Monroe's body, which had been sitting in a daze, suddenly jolted awake.
He sprang to his feet, then immediately slumped back down, defeated.
His expression was one of utter bewilderment.
"I've tried everything. Played every trump card."
Hunching forward, he curled up in the round chair, muttering in despair:
"So this is it? I'm just supposed to sit here and wait for death?"
He was drowning in hopelessness, no longer daring to face Seraphine.
Not even a sliver of courage remained.
"Only one option left..."
With great effort, Monroe forced himself upright, dragging his feet step by step out the door.
He didn't bother gathering any of the important technical documents, nor did he retrieve the holy spirit armor hidden in the secret vault.
None of it mattered anymore.
After living this long, he realized he still didn't want to die.
So now, all that was left was to find a way off Earth.
Even if it meant resorting to his most desperate, yet most certain, method.
A few minutes later, Monroe arrived at a modestly sized laboratory.
Nearly half of the room was consumed by a massive, tangled machine.
Wires, cables, and parts were strewn across the space in complete chaos.
At the heart of the setup stood a three-meter-long, two-meter-wide reinforced iron coffin.
It bristled with cables and conduits.
This crude-looking apparatus had only one mission: to flawlessly replicate and upload a digital copy of Monroe's consciousness, including his emotional modules and memory data.
The entire system only functioned in conjunction with his consciousness digitalization superpower.
The replication process would take more than a full day to complete.
Once finished, the machine would compress all the integrated data into a single information packet and transmit it via radio waves to a hidden location in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter.
There lay Monroe's final escape mechanism: a hyper-miniature spacecraft, designed to store only electronic data.
Just enough to house the entirety of his consciousness.
Though tiny, it contained everything necessary: self-repair modules, external resource acquisition, even basic defense.
Once transmission succeeded, Monroe's physical body and soul would enter a long dormant state, completely defenseless.
That little ship would then travel at sub-light speed, leaving the Solar System behind and drifting into the vast unknown of deep space.
Monroe was afraid, utterly terrified.
He had no faith that he could truly escape Seraphine's infernal grasp in flesh or spirit.
This base, this body, and this soul, he was ready to give them all up as a temporary tribute for being allowed to live.
As for Earth? Let whoever wants it have it.
With a long sigh, Monroe lay down inside the iron coffin.
He activated the consciousness-replication sequence, and slowly drifted into a deep slumber.
...
At the same time, night had fallen over Beaconreach's capital city.
Inside the Grand Museum's main reception hall, Leader Tom stood center stage, passionately delivering a pre-written speech.
Down below, rows of impeccably dressed nobles and top officials looked on with elegant smiles.
The mood was tranquil, refined, and ceremonious.
Meanwhile, far from the reception, deep within the museum's artifact evaluation wing, two scholars stood chatting idly while inspecting an ancient coffin.
One was a folklore and antiquities expert. The other, a naturalist.
"Mr. Holst."
The elderly scholar of legends, Gulliver, was carefully studying the inscriptions on the coffin.
Without lifting his gaze, he spoke softly:
"Are you familiar… with vampires?"
The naturalist, Holst, glanced over. "Of course. I've read "The Twilight Saga"."
"Oh?"
Gulliver gave him a sidelong glance. "I didn't take you for someone who reads books meant for teenagers."
The latter pushed up his glasses and grunted, "I don't consider myself old, you know. But Gulliver, what are you getting at?"
The folklore scholar paused, pinched the bridge of his nose, and said slowly:
"Have you ever thought about where vampire legends actually come from?"
Holst shrugged, replying casually, "Sure. Count Dracula, Bram Stoker's "Dracula", "Interview with the Vampire", I've seen them all."
Gulliver smirked.
"Dracula is certainly one origin. But the idea of bloodsucking entities predates him by quite a bit."
Still flipping through a set of documents, Holst replied idly, "Cain, then?"
"Hmph, Cain does share many traits with vampires. You could call him a mythic precursor. But the idea of Cain being the first vampire? That's a modern invention from a video game."
"No kidding?" Holst blinked, finding that oddly amusing.
Gulliver continued: "Mentions of vampire-like beings in the Holy Scripture were most likely inspired by Egyptian mythology. But the concept has existed for millennia."
"In Mesopotamian, Semitic, Hebrew, ancient Greek, and Roman cultures, you'll find tales of soul-sucking demons. They're considered the true progenitors of the vampire mythos."
"That's not right." Holst frowned. "Vampires drink blood. What does soul-sucking have to do with it?"
"In ancient belief systems," Gulliver explained patiently, "the soul and blood were often seen as one and the same. It was believed that to drain someone's blood was to consume their soul."
With that, he raised his hand and pointed to the massive stone coffin beside him.
"This sarcophagus, excavated from beneath the Pyrenees Mountains, may contain one of the earliest figures in the vampire mythos, Mattu Erice."
"An ancient Greek general," he continued, stepping closer to the stone, "who descended into madness and became a bloodthirsty tyrant."
He pressed his palm against a faint emblem carved into the surface and let out a soft sigh.
"Legend says Erice practiced a form of malevolent soul-theft sorcery. He could hijack the bodies of ordinary citizens at will and commit acts of slaughter simply for amusement."
"Supposedly, some of the more infamous execution rituals, [Rat Form], [Impaling Form], [Molten Gold Form], [Human Candle], and the [Blood Eagle], were invented by him."
Hearing this, Holst grimaced. "Now that's a demon."
"A demon?"
Gulliver turned to face him, voice lowering.
"According to the legends, the people of that era, consumed by horror and revulsion, gave him a name…"
"Primordial Demon."
He continued with a grim tone:
"The stories say that when the ancient Greek city-state reached its breaking point, they sent emissaries to gather a team of over a dozen warriors, each possessing extraordinary talents.
After losing half their number and paying a dreadful price, they sealed Erice inside this very coffin, aided by a hero from the distant East."
Holst raised a brow.
"This Eastern hero, any records?"
Gulliver thought for a moment, then replied in halting Emberlight dialect:
"Human face, tiger's body, tiger teeth, leopard tail. A roar that splits the sky, and hair shaped like the head of a bird."
Holst blinked.
"That sounds like a bad Hollywood fantasy movie."
"Speaking of movies..."
Something occurred to Holst, and he smiled.
"I heard that after the speech ends, our celebrity leader is planning to visit the staff backstage."
"Oh?!" Gulliver's eyes lit up.
"Leader Tom is coming here?"
"Should be."
Holst shrugged, returning to his documents.
"Well then!" The old scholar straightened his coat.
"My nephew is a huge fan. I must get an autograph for him."
"You're not joining us?"
Holst shook his head.
"No. I need to finish transcribing the coffin's inscriptions for the archives."
"Suit yourself. Just don't take too long."
Gulliver gave a quick nod and stepped out.
"I'll go check if he's arrived."
"Bye~"
Holst waved lazily as the heavy door shut, leaving him alone.
Just then, the carved emblem on the ancient coffin began to shimmer with a subtle light.
It shifted, morphing into a savage visage with tightly shut eyes.
The humanoid face began to stir.
Its eyes opened, glowing with an ancient, bone-chilling malice.
HUM~~
From within the sarcophagus, a sinister, primeval Mental Power stirred, awakening after an eternity of slumber.
...
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP~~
In a quiet corridor behind the Grand Museum, the sound of crisp applause echoed.
Gulliver turned a corner and saw a round, suit-clad man with styled blond hair, surrounded by an entourage.
Gulliver's eyes lit up.
He quickened his pace, weaving through the crowd toward the man with the complex hairstyle:
Beaconreach's Grand Leader, Tom.
"Hmm~"
Tom glanced over and asked his assistant, "Who's this fellow?"
The balding man with glasses replied enthusiastically:
"This is Professor Gulliver, a renowned scholar of ancient civilizations and mythology at Apollo University.
He is also the museum's chief advisor on archaic studies."
"Ahh~~"
Tom nodded, an affable smile spreading across his face as he extended a hand.
"An honor, esteemed archaeologist Mr. Gulliver. I've heard much about your work."
Gulliver hesitated but decided not to correct the title.
He stepped forward, gripping Tom's hand with both of his.
"It's a great honor to meet you as well, Leader Tom!"
"Mmhmm~"
Tom's lips curled into a smirk.
"We should talk sometime. No one knows archaeology better than I do."
"Ah, yes, of course." Gulliver forced a laugh.
Just then, the short man noticed someone behind Gulliver and turned to Tom excitedly:
"Leader, I would like to formally introduce someone to you!"
"Oh? And who might that be?"
The man gestured toward the person approaching.
"Dr. Holst, former chief curator and head of the Emberlight Cultural Heritage Division."
He leaned in closer, whispering:
"He also holds senior clearance in Area 51 and is a leading authority on human biology."
"Ah~!"
Tom's eyes widened. He scanned the figure with interest and extended his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Holst."
Gulliver blinked in surprise as Holst stepped up.
"Wait, didn't you say you weren't coming?"
Holst offered a smile that felt strangely unfamiliar.
"I changed my mind."
With an uncharacteristic laugh, he clasped Tom's hand tightly.
"Haha! Delighted to finally meet you, Leader!"
As Holst's hands closed around his, Tom's frame convulsed. His pupils contracted, his body stiffened, and his vision blacked out.
Less than a second later, his eyes flared open, faint rings of white glowing at the edges.
He grinned wildly, glancing around with sudden, manic energy.
"Gentlemen! I must say, what a glorious age to be alive! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He burst into raucous laughter, clapping enthusiastically at his own words.
The staff and officials stood stunned by the bizarre outburst.
They quickly forced smiles and began clapping along, exchanging uncertain glances.
Even Professor Gulliver and Dr. Holst joined in.
Leaning closer, Gulliver whispered:
"You copied all the inscriptions already? That fast?"
Holst cracked his neck and spoke in a flat tone: "It's done. Everything is done."
Gulliver scanned him from head to toe, hesitating. "You... why do you feel off somehow?"
Holst's face remained expressionless. "I'm fine. Perfectly fine."
Just then, a burly man in a black suit approached Tom and whispered: "Leader, there's something going on at the Hexagon building."
"Oh?"
Tom gave him a calm, indifferent glance. With a gentle smile, he turned back to the group. "Gentlemen, brilliant minds all, unfortunately, something urgent has come up."
The short old man quickly said, "Of course, Leader. Duty comes first."
The others nodded in agreement.
Old Tom gave a polite nod, then turned and followed the man in the black suit.
As the Leader's figure disappeared, Gulliver felt a strange sensation. The current Tom gave him the impression of a figure from an ancient Greek fresco, awkwardly dropped into modern society. A jarring dissonance.
"Ancient… Erice…"
The old professor frowned, glancing at Holst's dazed expression before looking in the direction Tom had left. Suddenly, a terrifying thought struck him.
"Erice! soul-stealing witchcraft!"
His whole body jolted. His eyes flew open as he instinctively stepped forward, blurting out: "Uh!"
Tom, already dozens of meters away, abruptly turned his head. A mysterious, cruel smile crept across his face.
HUM~~
Before Gulliver could finish the name, an ancient and malicious wave of mental power surged forth, shattering his fragile consciousness. The professor's body went rigid. His face froze, empty and lifeless, no different from the vacant-eyed Griffin beside him.
Tom saw it all. His expression turned cold once again. Without another word, he turned and exited the museum swiftly alongside his bodyguard.
...
Beaconreach.
The Hexagon Building.
Inside a military-grade weapons lab.
From behind thick blast-resistant glass, Leader Tom stood with narrowed eyes, silently observing the enormous electromagnetic weapon glowing with a fierce, blue light. He could feel the tendrils of his mental power being worn down, even corroded, by the weapon's extreme electromagnetic field.
He muttered to himself: "I didn't think mental power could be damaged by man-made weapons. Haha, these fragile humans always manage to come up with something interesting."
At that moment, a familiar voice rang out behind him.
"Leader. It's been far too long!"
Tom turned his head. Striding toward him was an old general, Benede, stern-faced and unmistakably military. A smile bloomed on Tom's face. He stepped forward, extended his hand warmly, and said: "Indeed, General Benede. Far too long."
Benede's sharp gaze faltered for a second. Then, a mechanical, deferential smile spread across his face.
"Your will… is my only purpose."
Tom chuckled softly, spotting the approaching crowd of high-ranking military officials behind Benede. Eagerly, he strode forward, shaking hands with each one. With each touch, he quietly activated his soul-stealing, mind-controlling ability.
HUM!!
A faint, but profoundly wicked force of mental energy began to twist through the laboratory hall. With every fleeting contact, the power radiating from Tom grew stronger, seeping deeper. Looking into the lifeless expressions and glassy stares of the generals, Tom let a wicked grin spread across his face.
"Now this, this is what it means to be king. Checks and balances, hah, what a joke."
He turned his head under the fervent stares of everyone present and cast his gaze toward the reinforced glass. A low chuckle slipped from his lips.
"Primitive society. Slave society. Feudal society. Industrial society. Machine guns. Black powder. Cruise missiles. Hydrogen bombs. Steam engines. Radio. The internet."
Tom's mouth stretched open unnaturally wide, all the way to his ears. Yellowed teeth crammed his jaw in a grotesque grin as he went on: "Cities beyond counting. Billions of naive little humans, warm, clothed, well-fed. Everything so peaceful. As if it could last forever."
He slowly shut his eyes, sensing unseen currents flowing through the world.
"Blood. Suffering. Death. Disaster. Chaos. These, these are what give me power."
Tom's eyes snapped open. He bared his teeth again, laughing quietly: "Boring. It's all so boring! I want to see devastation! I want to see… rivers of blood!"
...
Emberlight Empire.
Sapphire Research Institute.
Selene and Serena were descending in an elevator. Bright white lights lit the interior. Selene, who once wore layers of machinery, now looked almost human. Her silver twin pigtails remained, but only luminous bluish cracks etched across her face and neck marked her cybernetic nature.
HUM~~
After descending a hundred meters, the elevator stopped at a massive laboratory. The two women stepped out, facing an enormous cylindrical biochemical nutrient tank. The tank was colossal, fifty to sixty meters in diameter and rising more than five hundred meters high.
Inside the slow-churning yellow nutrient fluid, a vague silhouette floated in suspension.
A brain.
A massive, grotesquely oversized brain, at least forty meters across.
Its pale, bloated tissue was studded with thousands of precision-engineered electronic modules embedded directly into the folds of its flesh. Fiber optic cables and thick wire bundles were connected across every surface, feeding into the pale matter like veins and arteries.
Two silvery metallic pipes, each three meters in diameter, extended from either side of the nutrient tank, piercing through the thick glass and tunneling directly into the brain itself.
Selene and Serena stepped closer, curious.
They noticed that both iron tubes had staircases spiraling upward, allowing technicians to ascend to the pipe openings situated dozens of meters above the floor.
Serena, clutching a folder of documents, tilted her head and murmured in slight astonishment, "This design: it really looks like it's meant for someone to enter that brain."
"You're not wrong, Director Serena."
A calm voice cut in.
Seraphine, now clad in a pristine white lab coat, had appeared quietly beside them. Hands in her coat pockets, she stood gazing up at the massive brain floating in the tank.
Her tone was cool, almost serene:
"This is the [Jade Resonator] Sentience Realm Transducer. It'll be a key component in our next research phase."
She turned her head slightly and glanced at the folder in Serena's hands.
"Have the investigator assignments been finalized?"
No sooner had she spoken than her form shimmered, splitting cleanly into two identical figures.
One remained behind, continuing the conversation.
The other gave Selene a light pat on the shoulder, motioning for her to step aside.
"The three-ring criteria Your Highness set: after much effort, we've only managed to find fifteen candidates. We'll need to wait for the final round of testing over the next few days."
Serena handed over the document folder, her expression tense with frustration.
Mental Power must not be too strong;
They need acute perception;
An unshakable mind, calm in crisis;
Advanced investigative instincts;
Cognitive frameworks vastly stronger than the norm;
And most importantly: born with extraordinary luck.
She shook her head and sighed quietly. "Your Highness, each of those six traits alone is rare enough: but to find someone with all six? That's nearly impossible."
Seraphine took the folder, casually flipping through its contents. "The Sentience Realm is far too chaotic. Without all six of these base conditions, entering it won't just mean death: it'll be far worse. No need to rush. The right ones will come."
Not far away, Seraphine glanced over at Selene, who was still standing silently. "Regarding the hidden stronghold of the PsyBro Syndicate: Vale has already led a sweep. They're operating out of a place called BlackRock City, in Eliondra."
At the mention of that name, Selene's entire body tensed. She dropped to one knee, her voice clear and resolute:
"Selene understands Your Highness's intent. But as Your Highness's blade: no matter how deep my brother's blood-debt runs: I cannot place it above Your Highness."
Seraphine chuckled lightly. "Haha, you still remember what I once told you? That I would give you the power to take revenge with your own hands."
She eyed Selene with faint curiosity. "Are you comfortable with the virtual-space Armament Box and the upgraded engine?"
Selene nodded firmly. "Selene feels excellent."
Seraphine nodded in approval. "Good. There's nothing urgent here. Go. Seek your revenge."
Selene, suppressing the burning storm within her, gave a deep bow: "As Your Highness commands. Selene won't take long."
She was about to rise and depart when Seraphine suddenly added:
"Judging by your expression: were you planning to go in and slaughter your way through?"
Selene tilted her head slightly, surprised. "Huh?"
Seraphine gave a soft nod. "You may be unmatched now with the 2.0 enhancements. But PsyBro is a different enemy. They move fast. They're shadow-based and mobile. There are definitely high-tier spatial manipulators among them. A frontal assault will only tip them off."
She raised a finger and lightly tapped the air in front of Selene's forehead.
HUM——
A torrent of data surged into Selene's mind.
[...BlackRock City...]
[...The Port...]
[...Fu'an Gang... operating from 13th Street to 17th Street...]
[...Gang is currently serving as PsyBro's temporary asset extraction base...]
[...Only one man: Wu Fu: knows the precise location...]
[...Elusive, highly mobile target: known to vanish at will...]
Selene's golden-red eyes flickered open, glowing faintly as the streaming data reflected within.
She understood immediately.
"Your Highness wishes for Selene to act with precision. So that Lucian cannot escape."
Seraphine gave a faint smile. "The intelligence is yours now. The revenge is yours too. How you carry it out is entirely up to you."
Selene gave a solemn nod. "Yes."
"No time to waste."
Seraphine clapped her hands once.
HUM——
The Real Number Channel tore open beside them, its edges shimmering with alien code, and in an instant, swallowed Selene whole.
She vanished.