Jaden and Skylar stepped through the mangled remnants of the doors, the jagged edges of twisted metal and crumbling walls framing their entrance into Wilton's sanctum. The room stretched out before them like the command deck of a futuristic starship. But it wasn't the vastness of the space that unsettled them—it was the overwhelming flood of sensory input.

Every wall was covered in thin, nearly seamless glass panels. Hundreds of screens blinked in and out of focus, their contents overlapping in a chaotic dance of live feeds: distant cityscapes, office rooms, server farms, and endless streams of data. The floor, slick and reflective, mirrored the glowing mayhem above, giving the disorienting impression that the entire room unfolded into infinity, with no clear boundaries. It was less like a room and more like walking into the living mind of a machine, one that never rested.

Skylar's gaze flitted around as the feeds from security cameras, traffic drones, and private conversations all filtered in at once, too many to track. The wall of screens moved in irregular patterns, occasionally scintillating with bursts of code or biometric data—heart rates, neural scans, names of people who were, somewhere, unaware they were being observed.

"What the hell!" Skylar murmured.

In one corner, a cluster of spindly machines hunched over neural interfaces, their delicate, jointed arms tipped with tiny needles. A central workstation spread out before them, a web of black glass and holographic overlays. Bio-monitors pulsed, tracking who-knows-what kind of brainwave patterns or behavioral data in real-time.

Jaden took a slow step forward, the click of his red high-top Converse resounding against the floor. The sound felt out of place, quickly absorbed by the hum of electronics and the steady ticking of unseen systems buried within the walls. As he neared one of the towering glass screens, his reflection appeared distorted, fluttering with digital static as it merged with the shifting images on the surface.

He gasped as he saw them. On the massive screen in front of him, Chase and Dawn were talking—not a recording, but a live feed from their Iron Phalanx division office. The Iron Phalanx logo was visible in the background, and he could see the way Chase's lips moved, his expression serious yet animated as he discussed something important with Dawn. Her arms were crossed, her gaze as piercing as ever, though a slight tension creased her brow.

"W-What is this? Are they... spying on us?" Jaden stammered.

"Yeah... looks like it," Skylar replied, his mind reeling as he scrambled to process what he was seeing. He had known—of course, he had known—that Van Boxtel Technologies was supplying surveillance tech to Heng Qi Island. It was the very reason he had fought so hard against them, determined to free his homeland from the warlord's oppressive grip. But this—this level of intrusion, this pervasive surveillance right here in Veridian City? The thought was unthinkable.

Van Boxtel Technologies wouldn't dare... right?

But how could he deny what was right in front of him? The screens didn't lie. People—ordinary citizens, students, his own friends—were being watched, their lives scrutinized and recorded. Van Boxtel had always claimed to be a pillar of security and progress in Veridian City, a company that kept people safe. But what was safety, really, when no one had privacy? When every word, every movement, was being cataloged and used for purposes no one could fully comprehend?

Jaden pulled out his phone and started recording, sweeping the camera over the room, capturing every screen, every machine, every blip of invasive data. This wasn't just a snapshot of some corporate wrongdoing; it was a window into a conspiracy that reached into every corner of Veridian City—and beyond.

Skylar peered at the silver-haired boy and questioned, "What are you doing?"

"Documenting this whole Orwellian nightmare," Jaden responded. "I am sending it to my mother. This—this is sick. I am going to expose it all. People need to know."

"I wouldn't recommend that."

The voice sliced through the air like a scalpel, cool and measured, but brimming with an undercurrent of menace. Jaden and Skylar stopped mid-motion, the hairs on their arms rising. They exchanged a brief, tense glance before scanning through the tangle of screens and coiled wires sprawling across the room. But no matter where they looked, the voice remained bodiless, as if it had risen straight out of the machines themselves.

Then, promptly, a low hiss echoed from the far corner of the room, and their attention whipped toward it. Out of the shadows, a cobalt-colored containment pod slowly rotated, releasing a thick plume of freezing vapor that spilled across the floor like liquid ice. The hiss grew into a metallic grind, the sound of hydraulics straining as the door slid open with a click. The mist clung stubbornly to the air, veiling the figure that came out from its depths.

For a moment, neither Jaden nor Skylar could breathe.

Then he appeared.

Tall and impossibly calm, Wilton moved with the methodical grace of the sentinels Jaden and Skylar had just fought. His medium-length brown hair, streaked with silver at the temples, framed a face so crisp in its definition it seemed almost sculpted, as if designed rather than born. His beard and mustache were trimmed with mechanical exactness. Forlorn and unyielding, his blue eyes fixed on them with the dreary certainty of a programmed directive, glinting like polished steel.

"Put the phone down." His voice, though quiet, carried an authority that sent a shiver down Jaden's spine. It was the voice of someone who had commanded others for so long he didn't need to raise it anymore. "You don't know what you're getting into."

Jaden swallowed hard, his throat dry. He felt the surface of his phone slip slightly in his grip, his heart thrumming in his ears like a war drum. He had faced enemies before, but Wilton—Wilton was different. There was no anger in his expression, no emotion. Just a calculated control that made the boy's blood run cold.

Beside him, Skylar's eyes were wide, blank with an unspoken fear. He had seen Wilton before, always from afar, but never like this—never close enough to feel the intensity radiating from him. Now, standing mere feet away from the man who had razed Heng Qi Island, the anticipation of charging in and tearing him apart evaporated. Why did his pulse quicken? Where was the fury? Instead, panic simmered beneath his skin, spreading like a stealthy infection.

"I'd reconsider that next move if I were you," Wilton warned. "You've seen things you weren't meant to. That always comes with consequences."

Jaden scowled, gripping his phone tighter. "Yeah? And what would be your consequences if the Federation knew about your Big Brother operation here?"

He barely finished the sentence when Wilton's fingers twitched, and the lights flickered. Jaden's phone vibrated erratically, and then, without warning, the screen flashed bright white. Heat surged through the metal casing, and startled, Jaden yanked his hand back, dropping the phone. It clattered to the floor, and before he could react, a crack split the air as the device exploded into shards, spraying sparks across the floor.

Wilton remained still, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I think you'll find the consequences don't quite apply to me."

A shimmer of golden chi ignited around Skylar, soft and spectral in the subdued light. It clung to him, flaring like embers caught in a shifting breeze, marginally concealing the tension winding through his body. His grip tightened around his staff, his knuckles paling as he wrestled with the creeping specter of fear. "You're not untouchable, Wilton!" Skylar's voice rang out.

Jaden's eyes widened in alarm. "Skylar, don't—" he started, but his words were drowned out by the spike in energy.

Too late. Skylar had already surged forward, driven by the might of chi coursing through him. His staff swept through the air, cutting an arc that sizzled with golden light. The chi crackled along the weapon, like lightning hardly held in check, the room shrinking into a singular focus—the point of impact, inches from Wilton's chest.

Wilton didn't so much as blink. His hand twitched again, and abruptly, a chunk of metal whizzed across the room, slamming into his chest just before Skylar's strike could land. The impact rang out, metal against staff, a deafening clash. Wilton's smirk broadened. Before Skylar could recover, more pieces of metal hurtled from the shadows. They wrapped him in a form-fitting exoskeleton, each piece clicking into place until he stood encased in a power suit that gleamed with embedded circuitry.

Wilton's hand snapped forward like a steel piston, gripping Skylar's staff with ironclad vigor. In one fluid motion, he yanked Skylar forward, their breaths mingling in the scant space between them. Wilton's eyes locked onto the younger man's with disquieting poise. There was no time to process the moment as his fist drove into Skylar's cheekbone. The world tilted—not from stars, but from a dull, disorienting blur. Skylar staggered, tasting iron as blood welled in his mouth, his fingers loosening around the staff as if it suddenly weighed too much to hold.

But Wilton didn't hesitate. The technokinetic ultra-tellurian raised his arm, the lines of his exoskeleton glinting under the room's lights. The glove on his hand buzzed with power, teal-colored energy fizzing along his fingers before coalescing into a beam that fired straight toward Skylar.

Skylar's body reacted on its own, years of training sharpening his senses in an instant. He planted his feet firmly and raised his hand, channeling the chi from deep within. A luminous construct materialized before him—a translucent Buddha's palm imbued with ancient energy. It intercepted the beam with a low, melodic vibration. The collision sent tremors through the ground beneath Skylar, but his Buddha's palm held strong.

"Skylar!" Jaden yelled as he was ready to charge into the fray.

But Wilton glanced at the silver-haired boy, and his eyes glowed with a sinister teal light. At that moment, the dormant drones strewn around the room jolted into motion, their frames shuddering as electrical arcs danced across their surfaces. They rose into the air like robotic falcons, and without warning, beams of concentrated energy erupted from their tech-enhanced guns, shooting straight toward Jaden.

Jaden flung himself backward, his sneakers scraping against the scorched floor as a searing line of light sliced through the air, vaporizing the spot where he'd stood moments before. The heat stung his skin, but there was no time to dwell on the close call. A mechanical whirring cut through the havoc—three more drones zoomed toward him, their blades angled like predatory talons, eager to carve through flesh and bone.

"Luce stellarum!" Jaden shouted, thrusting his hand forward. An orb of rainbow starlight magic swirled with prismatic energy and shot forth, hitting one of the drones dead center. The impact was immediate—an explosion of light and debris as the drone disintegrated, scattering metal fragments across the room like burning confetti.

However, victory was fleeting. Before the debris had even settled, six more drones swooped in, their movements fast and erratic. Jaden's adrenaline inundated his veins as he spun around, dodging another laser blast. The room was alive with destruction—streaks of light, spinning blades, the acrid smell of charred circuits.

"Skylar, be careful!" Jaden said, his voice quivering with desperation.

Across the room, Skylar was still locked in combat with Wilton, their forms blurred by the energy clashing between them—Skylar's palm of chi construct blazing like an ethereal shield against the technokinetic's ceaseless assaults.

"Don't worry about me. I can handle it!" Skylar's voice was firm, but Jaden could hear the strain beneath it.

The drones shifted again, this time moving in from all directions, their movements too coordinated—like a swarm that had learned to hunt. Jaden's nerves prickled with irritation. They weren't just machines; they were pests, unremitting and unnerving.

"Luce stellarum!" Jaden chanted once more, his magic bursting against the ground with a crackling roar. The force sent him rocketing upward, soaring above the drones like a comet breaking free of gravity. The air sparkled around him, saturated with iridescent hues as his mana gathered to full power.

At the peak of his ascent, he twisted gracefully through the air, twirling like a celestial dancer. His hands arced outward. With blinding speed, a storm of rainbow-hued orbs spewed from his hands, spiraling in perfect synchrony, homing in on the drones like fragments of a shattered constellation. They struck with dazzling flashes of light, ripping through metal and circuitry in explosions of vibrant color. One by one, the drones crumbled into smoking ruins beneath him.

Jaden landed in a crouch. His breath came hard and fast, but his eyes burned with fierce determination, already seeking the next move. He needed to help Skylar.

Before he could move, Wilton drove his boot into the ground with a thunderous stomp. A serrated wave of teal electricity snaked across the floor, rushing toward Jaden. With a crack, the floor erupted beneath him, and thick, wiry cables shot upward like venomous serpents. They coiled around Jaden's ankles, yanking him off his feet. The world spun as the cables flipped him upside down, then slammed him against the wall. His back hit with a thud, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Shit! Jaden!" Skylar yelled, panic threading through his voice as he sprang out from behind the shield of the Buddha's palm. Without wasting a second, he hurled his staff with a practiced flick of his wrist.

A crunch resounded through the room as the staff pierced through the armored glove of Wilton's power suit. Sparks exploded from the damaged components, blue arcs of electricity skittering wildly across the gauntlet. The laser sputtered, then died, leaving Wilton snarling in frustration, his weapon rendered useless, smoking at his side.

But the danger wasn't over. Just as Jaden struggled against the cables wound around his ankles, a living wire—seething with electricity—whipped toward him. Before the deadly current could hit, Skylar threw himself between Jaden and the wire, taking the full brunt of the electric shock. His body convulsed from the jolt, but he gritted his teeth against the pain. Summoning every ounce of his resolve, he unleashed a blast of chi from his hand, sending it racing through the wire. The cable screeched and twisted before vaporizing in a burst of energy.

Skylar dropped to his knees, panting, his limbs still shaking from the shock. But shortly, he lunged for the cables tangled around Jaden's legs and worked to unravel them. His hands moved with desperate speed, the metallic strands twitching as he fought against their grip.

Wilton, however, wasn't done. He ripped Skylar's staff from his armored glove, the metal whining as it tore through the plating. Glowing embers spat from the puncture, quickly dying into darkness. Something dark oozed out—whether blood or coolant, it didn't matter to him. His face remained stony, unflinching. His eyes shone with malicious intent as he raised his hands, feeling the pulse of technology surrounding him. The cables slithered to life, animated by his command.

Just as Skylar managed to free Jaden, the cables lashed out again—fast and brutal. They struck with bone-rattling ferocity, knocking the two of them across the office. Every inch of the room throbbed with Wilton's control, his hands orchestrating the frenzy as the cables writhed. Before Skylar and Jaden could rise, the metallic tendrils dashed forward, wrapping around their bodies like the bindings of mummified prisoners. Within seconds, they were lifted off the ground, suspended upright, and utterly immobilized.

The rumble of approaching footsteps reverberated down the corridor. A couple of minutes later, a tall figure appeared, pacing over the rubble with a sense of urgency. Platinum-blonde hair gleamed under the harsh lights of the wrecked entrance, and despite the turmoil around him, his appearance remained pristine. His suit was tailored to perfection, every seam in place, a stark contrast to the devastation that littered the floor.

"Mr. Van Boxtel, are you alright, sir?" he called out.

Trailing him, a squad of security guards flooded into the room, their entrance precise, as if rehearsed for such a breach. Dressed in black tactical armor, their faces obscured by mirrored visors, they fanned out, rifles raised and ready. They moved as one, flanking Weston like an impenetrable wall of force.

Wilton's eyes flicked to the group from behind a pile of wreckage, irritation darkening his features. The room dwarfed them, its towering walls lined with shattered glass screens and massive steel beams jutting out like broken ribs. The warble of malfunctioning machinery echoed, amplifying the cavernous silence that now engulfed the once-bustling command center. "I'm fine," he huffed, his clipped tone carrying through the enormous room. "Why are you here?"

"The alarm was triggered. We thought—"

"You thought?"

Wilton strode out from among the rubble and toward the doorway, the space between them so vast that his footsteps barely registered until he was closer. He let out a short, derisive laugh, as though the sheer absurdity of their concern amused him more than it should have.

From where the group stood, the office seemed to go on forever, rows of darkened screens and workstations lost in the distance, broken up by the occasional column of blinking lights or sparking wires.

"Let me remind you, Weston, your little team of grunts is not needed here," Wilton declared before he stopped at the entrance, facing the group with a sneer. "My sentinels are more than capable of handling anything that happens in this sector. This wing—this entire level—is off-limits. Not even your clearance gets you in here."

"We're only here to ensure your safety, sir," Weston responded evenly.

"Do I look like I need protecting?" Wilton seethed.

Before Weston could form a reply, a weak voice caught his ear. "Weston..."

He turned, scanning the dim, stuttering light on the far side of the room. Amid the debris, hardly visible behind the gnarled cables and bent steel, he spotted the familiar figure—silver hair dulled by grime, eyes set in a frozen grimace. Steel filaments wrapped securely around his torso, suspending him like a trapped insect in a web, thrashing yet unable to break free.

"Jaden?" Weston's voice faltered, shock rippling through his composed demeanor, as he hurried toward Jaden. "What's going on here?"

Wilton's brow lifted, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "You know this boy?"

Weston swallowed, his voice catching. "Y-Yes, sir. He's Jaden Troublefield, the son of August and Evelyn Troublefield. He was supposed to meet me today in my office. But I was... delayed in a meeting. He must've slipped out."

Wilton tilted his head, scrutinizing Jaden with renewed interest. "August and Evelyn Troublefield? Why do those names sound familiar?"

Weston nodded, choosing his words carefully. "Six years ago, when we began integrating our advanced AI systems into autonomous drones and combat algorithms, the U.S. Senate formed a subcommittee to assess the ethical implications of our technology—AI-driven warfare, automation in combat zones, the potential for international law violations. I was called to testify."

Wilton strolled forward, stopping just inches from Jaden. His lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes swept over the boy, lingering longer than necessary, as though appraising some hidden truth. A gradual, serpentine smile crept across his face as the memory dawned. "Ah, yes... the Troublefields," he mused, his voice rich with implication. "We brought your parents on board, didn't we? The brilliant minds who argued that military AI could revolutionize global security."

"That's correct, sir," Weston confirmed.

Wilton's smile vanished, replaced by a steely edge. "So, what possessed you to break into my command center, boy?"

Before Jaden could speak, Skylar shouted, his voice defiant. "He didn't break in—I did! He just followed me."

Wilton's eyes slid over to Skylar, his expression unreadable. "And who, exactly, are you?"

"Skylar Song," Skylar replied.

"Should that name mean something to me?"

Skylar bitterly chuckled. "Of course, you wouldn't know. To you, I'm just another faceless casualty of your insidious Operation Wanshi—the one where you arm Supreme Leader Xiong Jianpei with AI-powered weapons, robotic sentinels, surveillance systems, and drones that monitor every breath we take on Heng Qi Island."

Wilton impassively stared at Skylar. The quiet between them didn't just linger—it swelled, as if the air itself had weight, pushing in from all sides. Weston shifted uncomfortably, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. What had he just walked into? What was this young man talking about? Operation Wanshi? He had come across that name before. The ninja who had attacked him had been searching for the same information. He'd looked into it afterward, but all he could uncover was that it was some shadowy overseas project linked to Van Boxtel Technologies. Nothing more.

Weston had even approached the Chief Intelligence Officer, his usual chain of command, only to be stonewalled. The CIO had told him to forget it, that it wasn't his concern. But Weston was the Director of Digital Security—surely, he should have had access to something like this, right? And yet, here he was, in the dark.

"Sir..." Weston's voice interrupted the oppressive silence, laced with confusion. "What is he talking about? What is Operation Wanshi?" His eyes flitted nervously between Skylar and Wilton, searching for answers.

"You don't know?" Jaden mumbled. It was less a question and more a sigh of relief. Relief that Weston wasn't complicit in something so monstrous.

Weston shook his head, his scrutiny fixing on Wilton. "Sir, what is Operation Wanshi?" he repeated his question.

"It's the natural evolution of security and governance," Wilton eventually spoke, his voice unnervingly calm, each word precise, almost clinical. He turned to Weston. "Remember when I interviewed you, fresh out of Silver Den University? I asked you why you wanted to work for Van Boxtel Technologies, and you said you believed in our mission—that technology was the ultimate solution to humanity's problems." As his gaze rested on Weston, the hard contours softened, if only for a second. The ghost of warmth appeared as an inkling in his eyes, a paternal glimmer, as though he were seeing more than just an employee—something closer, like a son. "That's why I hired you on the spot, Weston. Because you were right."

The words pulled Weston back in time, flashing to that moment more than ten years ago. He had been just 21, a level-D ultra-tellurian with cyberpathy—far from the impressive technokinesis of others who could manipulate any machine at will. His powers were limited to interfacing with digital systems and navigating cyberspace. He couldn't even hack encrypted data without effort. But Weston had supplemented his ability with hard work, mastering coding and cybersecurity.

When he applied to Van Boxtel, it wasn't just a job—it was an aspiration to work for someone who shaped the future, someone like Wilton Van Boxtel. Weston had always believed in the Great Man Theory, the idea that history was forged by a few extraordinary individuals. And in his eyes, Wilton was one of those rare figures, destined to leave an indelible mark on the world. Wilton had taken a chance on him despite his limitations, and Weston had been grateful ever since.

But now, as Wilton continued speaking, that admiration curdled into something uneasy.

"The real key to lasting peace isn't waiting for chaos to unfold—it's stopping it before it starts," Wilton muttered. "That's what Operation Wanshi is: the Ten Thousand Eyes omnipresent surveillance network. An experiment, a proving ground for a new world order. We're testing how effective constant surveillance, data control, and predictive security can be. If we can prevent crime, rebellion, and unrest, we'll know the system works. And then, it's only a matter of scaling it globally."

A new world order? A strange sensation bloomed inside Weston, a muted dissolution, as though the words had disturbed some inner balance. His hand drifted to his collar, fingers brushing the fabric like he was searching for something to anchor him. He'd always been a proponent of technology's promise. Civilization was built on it—technology was the manifestation of human ingenuity, the answer to humanity's greatest challenges.

Starvation? We created the Green Revolution. Darkness? We lit the world with electricity. We mastered heating and cooling, tamed disease with vaccines, connected continents with the Internet. Technology had always been the spearhead of progress, the tool to uplift and solve. So, if conflict and unrest were the next great problem, shouldn't technology be the solution for peace?

But hearing Wilton now, those ideals felt hollow. Was this truly the next phase in human progress? A subtle dread gathered beneath his ribs, but he said nothing. He just listened.

Skylar, however, felt none of that silence. As Wilton's detached rationale tumbled out, his stomach churned with revulsion. The callous logic, the way he reduced human lives to mere variables in some grand equation for peace—it was infuriating. Was this the vision that had cost his father his life? A deluded fantasy where control replaced freedom, all in the name of some psychotic version of "world peace"?

Through clenched teeth, Skylar growled, "Is that what you tell yourself? That you're the savior of the world? Are you even human anymore, Wilton, or have you hollowed yourself out to make room for your machines? You talk about peace like it's some equation to solve, but all you've done is turn your tech into chains. My father is dead because of you—because of this obsession with control."

"I am human, Skylar. I've just evolved past humanity's flaws. True peace isn't free—it requires sacrifice. And if people like me don't take the reins, society will tear itself apart. What I've built here, what your father fought against, is a system that prevents that self-destruction. Call it control if you like. I call it order. The only way to bring stability, to guide the world toward survival and progress, is through precision and eliminating chaos."

Skylar's muscles strained violently against the restraints, veins bulging under his skin as he fought the bindings with raw, unspent fury. His chest rose and fell like a caged animal, eyes bore into Wilton with an intensity that could scorch through iron. "What kind of mental gymnastics is this? You're not saving anyone."

Jaden, bound beside him, shot Wilton a glare. "The Cataclysm Federation will stop you. Supplying weapons to warlords in other states is one thing, but spying on the people of Veridian City is another. This office—it is your command center, isn't it? Where you monitor anyone using a Van Boxtel device." His voice bristled, stiff with disgust. "You will not get away with this."

With a delicate hiss, Wilton disengaged the clamps on his gauntlets, sliding them off in one smooth motion. He dropped them to the floor with a dull thud, his bare fingers flexing as if savoring the freedom from the armor—though his eyes never left Jaden's face. "The Cataclysm Federation is a dying institution, a shell of what it claims to be. You think they'll stop me? Half of its council members already know about my operation. They just don't have the spine to execute it themselves here. But they're watching me, rooting for me to succeed. They want the kind of order I've helped establish on Heng Qi Island—a world where ultra-tellurians and thaumaturges don't slaughter each other or threaten regular humans. It's a utopia."

"A utopia? You really are demented, aren't you?" Jaden scoffed.

Wilton advanced closer, his hand darting out to grasp Jaden's chin, tilting his head just enough to force their eyes to lock. His voice sank to a chilling murmur. "I thought you'd be the one to understand the stakes."

Jaden jerked his head out of Wilton's grasp, contempt tainting his features. "Why would I ever understand the ravings of a maniac?"

Wilton's lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk, as though savoring a secret long kept. "Because you're him."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're J.A.D.E.N. The by-product of Project Genesis Sentinel," Wilton revealed.

Jaden's lungs seized for a moment while his eyes were growing round in stunned realization like his mind struggled to catch up with what he'd just heard. He thought that chapter of his life had burned out, like a distant star fading into the far reaches of space, irrelevant and forgotten. Yet the mention of the project reappeared like a long-lost comet, dragging him back into its orbit, heavy and inescapable.

"W-What? How...did you—" The words stuck in his throat as he cast a wary glance at Weston. Only two people knew about this. Weston and Adam. But Adam had no ties to Wilton, and Weston—Weston wouldn't have—

"How did I know?" Wilton taunted as he backed away with a smug grin, crossing his arms and relishing the sight of Jaden squirming. "Van Boxtel Technologies handled ExoCellular Lab's entire digital infrastructure. Everything they had on you—every file, every test result—was buried deep in our system." He tapped his temple, his smirk widening. "And it's all up here now."

"Jaden?" Skylar murmured, concern threading his voice as he caught the tension in the air. He was bewildered, but worry for Jaden overshadowed everything else. "Are you okay?"

Jaden glared at Wilton, his heart racing with indignation. "What is your point?" he demanded.

"The point is you are a designer baby, built to be humanity's last line of defense against ultra-tellurians and thaumaturges. A flawless creation. The perfect weapon." Wilton's eyes sparkled with something close to reverence, and it sent a shiver down Jaden's spine. "When I discovered the Genesis Sentinel project two decades ago, it wasn't just interesting—it was inspirational. You, Jaden—your creation, your potential—inspired me. ExoCellular Lab had the right vision in engineering you. They foresaw a day when the Cataclysm Federation might falter in governing supernatural affairs, and you would rise to eliminate all of us."

Jaden's skin tingled with an encroaching numbness, his whole body seized in place as if paralyzed. "You're saying all of this," he said, his voice shaking with disbelief, "because of me? You supply weapons to warlords, spy on the people of Veridian City, and push for a new world order—because of me?"

"Exactly. Everything I've done, every system I've built, has been an effort to thwart the day you're activated. To stop the justice you're programmed to unleash before it's too late."

A wave of nausea rolled over Jaden, his throat tightening as he forced back the urge to gag. The desire to scream, to rip free from his restraints, surged through him like a solar flare, explosive and uncontrollable. Inspirational? The word left a sour taste in Jaden's mouth, like bile rising from the pit of his stomach. Wilton had warped everything. How could this man justify so much damage all in the name of a fate Jaden had never asked for?

For a while now, he had known about Project Genesis Sentinel and that he was meant to be the Justice-Activated Defender and Extraordinary Neutralizer. However, it had never felt real—just an abstract concept lurking at the periphery of his consciousness. But now, it wasn't some far-off nightmare; it was crushing him.

"It is not true. It cannot be true," Jaden croaked. "ExoCellular Lab is gone, and I am not some weapon. Stop this madness!"

"Oh, but you are. The reason I hired your parents all those years ago to help with the Senate subcommittee on AI ethics wasn't just for their expertise. It was to see the people who raised you. When your powers began to manifest, ExoCellular Lab was supposed to retrieve you, train you, prepare you to become J.A.D.E.N. But when the lab was shut down by the Spectral Defenders a year after your birth, I thought the project had ended. Then I saw your parents—their relentless drive for peace and security. They advocate for global AI surveillance, pushing for systems that predict threats before they arise. Their belief that governments must act preemptively to eliminate dangers mirrors the very purpose you were created for."

"Leave him alone, you bastard! You're the one who needs to be stopped!" Skylar snarled, but the anger in his voice wavered as he caught sight of Jaden. The boy's neck flushed red, his jaw clenched tight, but the quiver in his lip betrayed him.

Jaden's brown eyes glossed over, unfocused as if trying to blink away the sting of tears. His whole face was tense, fighting to hold back whatever was threatening to break free. Skylar could see the struggle there—the boy was unraveling.

They hadn't known each other long. A month, maybe less. Jaden had always been around Adam, trailing him like a shadow. Skylar hadn't thought much of him at first—just another idealistic kid who still believed in things like hope and justice. But there was something about Jaden, something more profound. He was powerful for his age, far more than Skylar had been at that point. It was hard to reconcile that strength with the boy next to him now, eyes on the verge of spilling over.

And yet, Skylar couldn't shake the disbelief. This kid—this stubborn, naive boy who refused to let Skylar dive headfirst into danger, who tried at every turn to stop him from doing what needed to be done—was supposed to be the one to destroy their world? It didn't seem possible. Jaden might have been powerful, but he wasn't a killer. Skylar just didn't believe it. Somehow, without realizing it, in this short, turbulent month, Jaden had become more than just a tagalong. He had become a friend.

Wilton leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Your parents, whether they realize it or not, are just as obsessed with security as I am. They're preparing you—grooming you to fulfill your destiny. And that destiny is to destroy people like me. People like Skylar. Anyone who poses a threat to regular humans like them. It's only a matter of time before your programming takes over."

Weston felt an unsettling pang as he watched Jaden. The kid looked so lost, worn down by forces far beyond his control. It triggered something in Weston—something he had long suppressed beneath layers of loyalty and reverence for Wilton. For years, Wilton had been more than a boss; he was the cornerstone of Weston's career, the figure who had shaped his path. Weston had placed him on a pedestal, seeing every success as proof of Wilton's vision. Yes, Wilton was demanding, sometimes ruthless, but Weston had convinced himself that was the price of changing the world. Or at least, he used to.

But now, as he stood there, witnessing Wilton's calculated words demolish Jaden, his chest felt constricted. The moral certainty he'd clung to for years started to deteriorate, and the man he once saw as a mentor now appeared more sinister than noble. Weston wasn't sure of anything anymore—right and wrong seemed to dissolve into shades of gray.

"Sir, please... he's just a kid," Weston uttered at last, his voice hesitant. Speaking up against Wilton felt like sacrilege, like dismantling the very foundation his life was built on. Wilton had always been the one with the answers, the one he trusted to steer things right. But seeing Jaden like this—defenseless and terrified—made him question everything. For the first time, he couldn't help but wonder if his boss really knew best.

Wilton pivoted with deliberate slowness, the corners of his mouth pulling into an ominous smile like amusement itself had been laced with venom. "You've got a lot to learn, Weston. But consider this your initiation—your invitation to the grown-up table. Lesson number one: things are rarely as they seem." He circled behind Weston, resting his hands on his shoulders. His voice dropped to a whisper, seeping into Weston's ear. "And this boy here? He's the perfect piece of tech for our future. You've done well bringing him to me."

Weston stiffened. "I-I didn't... What are you going to do with him?" he stammered, hardly able to get the words out.

Wilton's tone was almost casual. "Now that he's within my grasp, maybe I can repurpose him. Reprogram him into something useful—not a weapon of mass destruction, but a tool for order. He'll be an important piece in the new world we're building."

Each word detonated inside Jaden's skull, scattering the pieces of his reality into disarray. He had known his parents were influential political fixers, but this—this connection between their job and his engineered fate—was grotesque, a sick parody of the values they had always preached. Wilton's revelation about Jaden's origins turned over and over in the boy's head like asteroids grinding on a collision course, rupturing his thoughts and poisoning them. Could it really be true? Had his entire life—his parents' fight for justice, rule, and order—unknowingly molded him into the weapon ExoCellular Lab had designed?

His body trembled as he weakly tugged at his restraints, an instinctual movement even though he knew there was no escape. Helplessness sank into his bones, and everything felt futile. He couldn't stop the sob that clawed its way up his throat. He swallowed it, desperate not to give Wilton the satisfaction of seeing him crumble, but his body failed him. His chest heaved, breath coming in erratic, shallow gasps.

"Who am I?" Jaden whimpered. "What am I?"

"Hey, don't listen to him! He's a psycho!" Skylar's voice was distant, muffled, as though coming from another universe, distorted by the void Jaden was plunging into. "Jaden, hey, look at me."

Jaden couldn't. How could he, when he was the one responsible for Skylar's father's death? His eyes squeezed shut, and a tear trailed down his cheek, the first of many. He wanted to disappear, to erase himself from this horror.

Just disappear...

The pain, the fear, the overwhelming guilt—it was all too much for Jaden to bear. The world around him warped, the edges of the room curving in unnatural ways, as though the fabric of space itself was unwinding. The air grew gritty and thin, and every inhale he took was like trying to breathe in the cold, dust-choked space between worlds. He could feel himself slipping, retreating into the dark corners of his consciousness, a place where none of this could touch him. A place where he didn't have to face the monstrous truth of what he was. Where there was no Wilton, no expectations, no destiny. Just quiet. Just darkness.

His sobs subsided, not from resolution but from the burden pulling him deeper into the abyss. The room, the guilt, the grief—they all began to dissolve into nothingness. Jaden wasn't sure if he was falling or floating, but everything felt far away now, unreachable. His body slackened in the restraints, his muscles no longer responding, his consciousness drifting somewhere beyond the pain.

Then, without warning, a dazzling spectrum of rainbow light exploded around Jaden, enveloping him in a radiant aura. His eyes flew open. They gleamed with a desolately silver, devoid of the emotions that had once animated them. His trembling ceased, the tears vanished, and the turmoil that had fumed inside him was snuffed out, replaced by an unnatural stillness. Every trace of vulnerability was gone, erased.

"Alert: Hostile presence detected during primary consciousness dormancy. Automated activation of Justice-Activated Defender and Extraordinary Neutralizer initiated."