The laboratory was a tomb of cold light. Fluorescent panels hummed overhead, slicing the space into sterile rectangles of white and shadow. The air was sharp, metallic, biting at lungs that had never learned to breathe machinery. The polished floor reflected every movement with cruel clarity, every drip of condensation a clock ticking down.
Dr. Silas Vex knelt in the center, pinned by shadows that pulsed with intent. His lab coat, once a symbol of precision, was streaked with smudges of dust and sweat, contrasting against the darkness clutching him. Rei stood above, red-and-white Oni mask serene and immovable, his shadow curling like smoke across the floor, holding Silas in a vice of silent judgment.
"You were careless," Rei said, voice low, vibrating through the metal walls.
"Sentiment clouded the experiment. You triggered the asset prematurely. You made it… personal."
Silas's chest heaved. His eyes flicked to the monitors lining the room. Live feeds of the safehouse played out: shadows snapping into deadly form, Ren's pulse hammering with protective fury, Aoi trembling at the epicenter of it. Silas had watched it all, calculating, analyzing—but this was no longer analysis. The scene throbbed with the chaos of his own failing.
"The data… it's pristine!" he protested, voice cracking. "Ren's resonant frequency—his protective instinct, amplified through the Yuno Organ—it's beyond our models! This… this is what we've been waiting for!"
CRACK.
The sound was subtle, almost insignificant—but the line of blood snaking from Silas's lip proved its impact. Rei's shadow tightened like a steel vice, and the man's breath caught, sharp and desperate.
"The breakthrough is meaningless if we cannot control it," Rei said. Calm. Clinical. Immovable. "You were the scalpel. Not the sledgehammer. You exposed our interest in the girl. You made the asset volatile.
Unpredictable. Why?"
Silas sagged, the fight draining from him. The brilliant, cold architect was gone, leaving only a man broken by fear and love. He shifted his gaze to the cryogenic chamber in the corner, the soft blue light casting a halo around the girl inside. She was still, serene—but too perfect, too quiet. The black, synthetic veins of a Yuno Organ pulsed faintly along her spine, like a heartbeat borrowed from some alien god.
"My daughter," he whispered, voice trembling. "Luna."
The flickering monitors reflected in his eyes—innocence trapped behind glass and cold science. "She… she was born with a unique genetic code. A perfect vessel. But her body rejected it. She would have died. The Yuno Organ is the only thing that can sustain her, but it must… merge." His voice broke. "She needed something stable. Something alive."
Silas's trembling hand swept toward the screens displaying Ren's scanned data. "I've harvested cells from every hybrid in the city. D-Class, C-Class… crude. But him…" His fingers tightened into fists, knuckles whitening. "Ren's cells adapt. They merge.
They learn. He is the perfect donor. The universal template. If I am to save her, I need him alive. I need him invested. I need… emotion. Protective instinct. Fear. Love. All of it."
The horrific truth unfurled like a knife. The "primer" was never a weapon. Ren was never merely a template for hybrids. He was a key ingredient in a cure, the biological linchpin for Silas's desperate salvation.
"You weren't careless," Rei said finally. His masked gaze didn't waver, though every inch of him radiated control. "You were shortsighted. You prioritized efficiency over stability. The girl… your daughter… is irrelevant if the source is uncontrollable. And now you've made it volatile."
Silas's breath came in shallow gasps. "I… I have to—"
"Enough," Rei interrupted. Shadows recoiled, retracting their pressure but leaving Silas crumpled on the floor. "Your methods failed. But your goal… I understand it. We will acquire the subject. We will harvest what you need. And you," he leaned close, each word dripping cold intent, "will not make this mistake again. You will not touch her. She is the subject's weakness—and therefore, my instrument."
The Oni mask dissolved into the swirling darkness as Rei withdrew, leaving Silas staring at the chamber. Relief warred with terror in his gaze. He had handed over the reins of his daughter's fate to a monster.
The lab's hum seemed to intensify, a pulsing, living thing. Rei's words echoed like a prophecy: Prepare the extraction chamber. We are done with scans. It is time to collect the source material.
Silas pressed trembling fingers to the glass, brushing against the cold, inert barrier that separated him from his daughter. His whispered plea was swallowed by the lab's oppressive hum. "Forgive me, Luna… I have no choice."
And somewhere beyond the sterile walls, the world had shifted. Ren's cells—his life—had just become a weapon.
And the first strike would be surgical, precise, and personal.
The shadows in the lab pulsed in rhythm with the threat. There would be no warning next time. No safehouse. No room for error.