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Location: Valebridge — The Hidden City of the Syndicate
In the underground city of Valebridge, sunlight never touched the ground.
Golden chandeliers made from Corestone crystals floated above polished obsidian floors. Music played from invisible speakers. It smelled of perfume, blood, and power. People in silk suits and armored coats passed whispers like currency.
At the highest floor of the Spiral Lounge, the ruling seat of the Syndicate, Lord Kairo lounged on a black leather throne. His eyes, coal-dark and reflective, studied the shifting lights of a hologram.
The boy's image hovered midair — Alex, surrounded by flame and dragon wings. Security footage from the ruins of Vault Omega. Grainy, but unmistakable.
A dragon.
"Fifteen years of silence," Kairo mused. "And the Apex bloodline chooses a child to reawaken itself. Fascinating."
Behind him, Varka, a silver-furred hybrid with jaguar DNA, stood with arms crossed. "He's dangerous."
"That's what makes him valuable."
"You saw what he did to Omega," Varka said. "He destroyed an entire Dominion vault. If he sides with the mutants—"
"He won't," Kairo interrupted, his voice silk over steel. "He's still young. Naive. And surrounded by ideologues and fools. That girl Kaela was the only strategic one in that group. And now she's half-broken."
He rose from his throne, walking slowly to the panoramic window overlooking Valebridge's neon spires.
"Send word to our Curators. I want dossiers on the Veilborn team. Names. Weaknesses. Especially the girl Lena. She's too quiet to be ordinary."
"And the boy?" Varka asked.
"We won't strike yet. We'll tempt him."
Kairo smiled faintly, running a finger along his gold-plated cane.
"Every Apex must eventually choose—order, chaos, or power. When the world closes in, he'll come to us."
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Location: Drassel's Reach — The Hidden City of the Mutant Resistance
Far to the north, hidden in a mountainous cavern thick with Core-reactive fog, the leaders of the Mutant Resistance gathered in the ancient council dome.
Elder Malen, a tall man with faded bear claws across his back, paced the stone floor, agitated. His voice echoed against the glowing moss that lit the room.
"We should have been told," he growled. "The Veilborn helped that boy without our clearance. They exposed us all."
Across from him, Elder Nyra, serpent-eyed and wise, sipped from a steaming cup. "He saved one of our own. Kaela was one of our top scouts. Are you suggesting we should've let her die?"
Malen snarled. "I'm suggesting we can't afford unknown variables. The Dominion will retaliate with every asset they have. They've likely activated deep projects—ones we sealed off for a reason."
Another figure, General Thorn, leaned forward. His right arm was mechanical; his left, covered in glowing bark. A failed hybrid mutation.
"We don't have the luxury to debate," Thorn said. "Alex is no longer just a boy. He's the Last Apex. If the dragon bloodline has truly awakened… then the prophecies are already in motion."
Malen scoffed. "Prophecies? You're basing war strategies on bedtime stories?"
"Not stories," Nyra said, eyes narrowing. "Warnings. The Apex bloodline was tied to the original Core event. They weren't just stronger—they balanced the world. When the last dragon fell, chaos rose in its place."
Thorn nodded. "The Core storm became unpredictable. Mutation rates skyrocketed. The Dominion, the Syndicate, even the collapse of the Outer Colonies—all traced back to the fall of the Apex line."
Silence fell.
Then, from the back of the room, a younger voice cut in.
"I've met him."
Everyone turned.
It was Averin, one of the youngest Resistance captains. He stepped forward, eyes serious.
"I was stationed at the Omega perimeter. I saw him tear through Dominion mechs like paper. But I also saw something else—he hesitated. He spared guards. He didn't kill unless forced."
Malen scowled. "That doesn't make him one of us."
"No," Averin agreed. "But it means he's not one of them either."
Nyra folded her hands. "What do you propose?"
Averin took a breath.
"Send an envoy. Not soldiers. Not spies. Someone who understands him. Let's speak with him before the Dominion or the mafia gets to him. He doesn't need to join us—not yet. But he needs to know we're watching."
Malen hesitated, then nodded grudgingly.
"If he makes one wrong move…"
"He won't," Averin said.
And deep in the shadows of the chamber, unseen to all but Nyra, a pair of golden eyes opened for the first time in decades.
Something old… something forgotten… stirred in response to the dragon's return.
---
Elsewhere: Dominion Territory, Black Vault #17
In a chamber of mirrors and bio-wires, Project Chimera sat in silence.
Its body was tall, mismatched — a blend of multiple animal mutations, cores implanted through violent force. Chains hung from its shoulders like decorations.
Screens displayed images: Alex. Kaela. The dragon flame.
The voice of Director Vael spoke from a comm-link.
"You have one target. Codename: Apex."
Chimera did not blink.
"Find him. Break him. Bring back the Core."
The creature slowly tilted its head.
"No."
Vael's voice hardened. "That was not a request."
And for the first time since its creation, Chimera smiled.
"I won't bring it back," it said. "I'll take it for myself."
Then it stepped off the table, and alarms began to scream.
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