Elian, still trembling among the undergrowth, wiped his tears, looked back toward the fortress, and kept running with the determination never to return. He didn't know that, inside that hell, another scene was playing out that would change destinies.
Let's go back to the moment Prince arrived.
When Prince forced the gates and his arrival was announced, the guards already patrolling the fortress regrouped on the infernal racetrack — the same place where Elian had run over nails, fire, and oil. That was the instant the alarms mixed with the exterior blast — Elian was only just waking because of them.
"A PLEASURE TO SEE YOU, YOUNG HEIR!" the soldiers shouted in unison.
"Stand down, soldiers. Miss Vermeer," Prince called, his voice cold.
"Everything's ready, young heir," Irene replied, pointing toward the scientists guarded by the Order.
Ernesto, head of the project — appointed by S only two months earlier — stammered at the heir's presence.
"Y-young heir… w-what brings you here? W-with so much destruction?"
Prince approached with steady steps. His men forced the scientists to their knees.
"My father ordered me to dismantle this place. No trace must remain," Prince said, his voice ice-cold. "That means… eliminate all involved."
Ernesto tried to object, but a rain of rockets tore through the fortress; another explosion, another — and in seconds the complex began to burn. Flames licked corridors and equipment; the structure, once immovable, turned into smoking ruins.
"My father will understand why I did this," Prince murmured, leaning close to the scientist's face. "No one must know about this project. All loose ends need to be extinguished."
Before Ernesto could answer, a shot cracked. Irene had pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced the man's temple. The other scientists' screams spread like a chain.
"They didn't warn us!"
"This must be a dream…"
"I don't want to die."
One by one, the twenty-five scientists fell; the soldiers closed ranks as if conducting a surgical execution. When it was over, a soldier of the Order approached Prince.
"First part of the plan completed, sir."
"Begin phase two," Prince ordered, merciless.
Nineteen of Prince's men and the fortress guards descended in two of the three elevators to the lower levels — the same ones Elian had climbed that morning — to search for survivors. Prince and Irene entered the central mansion, clad in black armor trimmed with purple; Irene wore a helmet with night-vision, infrared, and motion sensors that would alert to any movement.
"Delta Squad, Level -1. Sighting: an elevator ascending to the first floor at high speed," one soldier reported over the radio.
"Leave it," Prince replied. "That's probably S." —But in reality it was Elian, who had finally decided to use the chaos to escape.
"Custodial subjects located: fifty-five soldiers on Level -3, clear," another voice reported.
"Level -3 clear. Level -4 with remains to clean. Level -5 clear," the status calls continued.
Prince pushed forward, looking for S among the rubble and smoke. Then S appeared before him, emerging from the wreckage with that sadistic grin that felt like a promise of torment.
"Looking for me, you piece of shit?" S mocked. "How are you, useless trash?"
Prince flared.
"What the hell do you care?" he hissed.
Irene breathed sharply beside the heir: it was the first time she'd actually seen S; she'd known him only by his writing, but seeing him in person was different.
"Who's the new girl, then? Your toy?" S taunted and laughed louder.
"No," Prince replied curtly. "She's my personal punching bag. S, this is Irene. Irene, this is S."
"Hahaha… still trying to look them over?" S said sarcastically, noting how Prince sized him up from head to toe. "You know you never will… failed child," he added, laughing in his face.
Prince, who had only absorbed a fraction of S's power at birth, exploded with rage because he couldn't even see where S's Elyth accumulated.
"SHUT UP!" he yelled, activating his Demonic March.
But S countered with his own — a completely black aura that seemed to devour light. The effect was immediate: Irene fainted; Prince swayed on the edge of losing consciousness. S's presence was like an ancestral weight crushing the will, projecting images of torture and death that paralyzed the soul.
S laughed without stopping.
"Did you really think you could surpass me with that mediocre copy?" he scoffed. "Though I must admit… I didn't expect you to learn something I never even wrote in my notebook. Ha." He laughed before deactivating his Demonic March.
Prince, panting, managed to collect himself, powerless against that monster. He glanced at Irene, still on the floor.
"Vermeer, get up," he ordered authoritatively but got no response. "Vermeer?" —his tone cracked for the first time; vulnerability and concern seeped through. "If you don't get up, I'll deduct it from your pay," he said sternly, trying to keep composure, though genuine worry showed in his voice.
S laughed even more. For him, it was entertainment: watching this child who wanted to devour the world face the darkness he himself embodied.
"HAHAHAHAHA! What? Trash worrying about trash? How novel," he mocked.
Prince clenched his jaw, focused his anger, and stopped fixating on Irene. He demanded:
"S… we've located the fifty-five soldiers who will be the new faction of the Order. Where is the other 'Genesis'?"
S shrugged, his smile widening; he stuck out his tongue.
"I don't know…" he said, despite having let Elian slip away moments before meeting Prince.
"WHAT?! HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW?!" Prince snapped, furious — it was your duty—
S cut him off, placing a finger on Prince's lips to silence him, stepping close with a broad smile and staring into his face.
"Maybe he escaped when some spoiled, defective child stormed into my precious torture sanctuary to destroy everything. Or maybe he's dead. Always think about the consequences, Prince," he added, provokative.
S licked Prince's cheek as if it were a domestic — and threatening — gesture.
"Your sweat tastes like fear. I like it," he said before stepping away from Prince.
Prince stood in shock for a few seconds, then regained composure.
"S…" he said, barely containing his anger. "Now that I remember, my father sent me with a message for you. Listen carefully," he paused and inhaled deeply before speaking again. "Disappear. I already told you I'll cut ties with the project you were doing. I care nothing for you now. Disappear until I call again… 'Dog of the Alhazen'," he said, repeating word for word what his father had instructed him to convey, though part of the words came out as rage directed at S.
S, delighted by the fury he sensed from his interlocutor, made a theatrical bow.
"Sure, I'll do that," he said, his smile widening. "My scientific phase ends… now it's time to have fun. THIS IS FUCKING EXCITING!"
S rose, levitated, laughed, and in an eruption he was gone. What remained felt like a gust; S vanished as if he had never been there. Prince, showing no surprise, picked Irene up in his arms — still unconscious — and headed toward the charred fortress gates.
Then a soldier approached him.
"Young heir… the numbered specimens 0 through 54 were extracted without incident," he reported, pointing to the fifty-five gathered youths, eyes empty, standing straight, ready to act on command.
"Perfect. Take them to the mansion through the Level -3 tunnels so they don't cause a disturbance. My father will want to inspect the merchandise… and I expect he'll be pissed about the 'Genesis' S lost," Prince said, air-quoting the word.
He climbed into the convoy, adjusted Irene so she could rest on his shoulder, and gave the order to depart. As they watched him leave, he tried to understand how S could be so immune to anything; how nothing disturbed him. For the first time, Prince wondered why he felt that small sting of concern for Irene.