My Infinite System.

Cold mist curled around their boots as Aldric stepped up to the golden-lit tube. His fingers danced over the control panel on its side—precise, deliberate. The hum deepened, the glow inside shifting to a warmer hue.

A low hiss escaped as the seals unlocked, followed by the heavy sound of fluid draining away through unseen vents. The man inside slowly lowered until his bare feet touched the base of the tube.

With a dull mechanical click, the front glass split down the center and slid aside. Steam poured out, curling like ghostly tendrils around the figure.

The man stumbled forward, knees hitting the floor first, palms next. His breathing was ragged, his head hanging low, hair dripping with the remnants of the suspension fluid.

Eron stepped closer, boots echoing in the chamber’s cold quiet. His eyes moved over the man’s face again—tracing that resemblance to Lucian and Lucy, a perfect blend of both, but sharpened somehow. Stronger lines in the jaw. A faint heaviness to his presence, even now, weakened.

The man’s chest rose and fell in slow, deep breaths, his shoulders trembling as sensation returned to his limbs.

Eron crouched, not bothering with words. He pulled two slim metal syringes from his coat pocket, their tips gleaming under the gold light. Without hesitation, he pressed the first into the man’s arm, drawing the deep red blood until the vial filled. The second followed, the liquid swirling dark in the chamber.

The man didn’t flinch—either too exhausted or too numb to care.

Eron capped both vials, holding them up to the light for a moment. The crimson glinted faintly, darker than normal blood, with a subtle shimmer running through it.

Satisfied, he slipped them into a secure case on his belt and stood.

”Make sure he’s rested,” Eron said, his tone flat but carrying weight. His gaze didn’t leave the man, who now sat on his knees, head tilted slightly as though trying to listen through the fog in his mind.

”Yes, sir,” Aldric replied, already stepping toward the man to help him to his feet.

Eron paused at the doorway, one hand resting against the cold frame. ”And when he’s awake... make sure he understands exactly what he’s for.”

Aldric’s eyes flicked to him. ”Which is?”

Eron’s lip curled into something between a sneer and a grin. ”The Black siblings are pests. All of them. And pests need to be cleaned out before they breed into something worse.”

His boots carried him out into the dim corridor, the hum of the hidden chamber fading behind him. The metallic scent of the blood in his possession lingered in his senses like a promise.

Behind him, Aldric guided the man toward a narrow medical cot along the wall. The golden light from the tube still clung faintly to his skin, his hair plastered in damp strands against his forehead.

”You’ll be fine,” Aldric said quietly, almost to himself as he began attaching IV lines and monitoring wires. ”You just need to wake up... and when you do, you’ll have work to do.”

The man’s eyelids flickered, but he didn’t respond. His breathing steadied, each inhale pulling in more of the cold air. The faint shimmer in his blood—whatever it was—seemed to hum through his veins, like a power just beginning to remember itself.

Far down the corridor, Eron’s footsteps faded into the ship’s steady mechanical heartbeat. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.

By the time he returned, the boy would be ready. And the Blacks... would be nothing but another mess wiped clean from the board.

Sanctum Nova

The heavy security doors opened again with a deep hiss, seals disengaging one by one until the reinforced slabs parted.

Karl looked up from where he sat chained to the grav-anchor. His molten eyes caught the dim red light of the containment seals, burning like shards of a dying sun.

Lucian stepped inside. His pace was slow, unhurried. He didn’t look like he was here for a fight, but the way the air shifted around him... it was the same weight that had bent the room earlier. The kind that made every breath feel heavier.

Karl leaned back against the cold restraints. ”Twice in one day,” he said, his voice carrying a faint rasp. ”Should I be flattered?”

Lucian didn’t answer right away. He stopped just outside the grav-anchor’s perimeter, his shadow stretching across the floor toward Karl.

”You were there,” Lucian said at last. His tone was calm, but it had the edge of a blade. ”When it happened.”

Karl tilted his head slightly. ”When what happened?”

”Twenty years ago.” Lucian’s gaze didn’t waver. ”When monsters poured into our world. Whole cities burned in hours. Entire regions went dark. That wasn’t random. It was sent.”

Karl smirked, but it was thin, without real humor. ”You think I was the one calling the shots back then?”

”I think you know who was,” Lucian replied. ”And I think you were close enough to see why.”

Karl looked away, his smirk widening. ”If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe it.”

Lucian took a step closer. ”Try me.”

The dragon’s molten eyes flicked back to him. ”You wouldn’t understand the kind of war we were fighting.”

”You brought it to our doorstep,” Lucian said evenly. ”You made it our war.”

Karl chuckled low, the sound echoing in the cold chamber. ”You think your world was innocent? That it wasn’t already bleeding long before we got there? You humans... always pretending someone else started the fire.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. ”Who gave the order?”

Karl rolled his shoulders, the chains rattling faintly. ”Does it matter? That was a long time ago.”

”It matters to me.”

Karl studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing like he was trying to measure something. ”You’ve got that look. The kind that thinks if you just dig deep enough, you’ll find some truth that makes sense of everything. Hate to break it to you—sometimes the truth is just a blade in the dark. No grand reason. No noble cause.”

Lucian didn’t move, didn’t blink. ”You want me to believe you did all that for nothing?”

Karl shrugged, as much as the restraints allowed. ”Nothing’s a reason too.”

The silence stretched. The containment seals pulsed in slow rhythm, casting flickers of red across their faces.

Lucian finally said, ”I’m patient, Karl. I can stand here for hours. Days. I don’t need you to talk now.”

Karl’s smirk returned, faint but sharp. ”And I can sit here just as long, boy. You think you’re the first one to try and break me?”

”No,” Lucian said simply. ”But I’ll be the last.”

That made Karl’s eyes narrow just slightly, the heat in them flaring brighter. ”Careful with that confidence. You don’t know half the things I’ve seen.”

Lucian stepped closer again, his presence pressing against the edges of the grav-anchor field. ”Then tell me. Show me something worth my time.”

For a moment, it looked like Karl might actually answer. His lips parted, his gaze shifting like he was weighing the risk. Then he leaned back, closing his eyes. ”Not today.”

Lucian studied him for another beat, then turned without a word. The security doors began to seal as he stepped through, the red glow of the chamber fading behind him.