The butler's voice remained calm, as if the fate of others were simple bookkeeping.
"Our scouts recovered only fragments—enough to confirm residual power systems.You authorized a preliminary expedition. We selected a small external squad—low-profile but effective.Average rank: C-tier. They call themselves Iron Fang.On paper, unremarkable. In practice, their coordination is exceptional—disciplined, quiet, efficient.All of them were orphans—no one to claim their bodies."
Garrick's mouth twisted.
"Perfect bait."
"Precisely, sir. Their mission is to survey the outer zone, confirm active energy fields, and mark an extraction point.Once confirmation is received, our strike team will move in immediately."
Aurelian leaned back, fingers steepled.
"They leave tomorrow morning?"
"Yes, my lord. Dawn."
Aurelian smiled.
"Good. By this time tomorrow, the first stones of a new age will already be turning."
Garrick studied him.
"You're certain the site still holds anything worth taking?"
"I'm certain humanity's first mistake was stopping halfway," Aurelian said softly."The Grimms sought to transcend limitation. We'll finish their work.If they discovered how to perfect the flesh, then Purity itself becomes obsolete—and so does hunger."
He raised his glass; the wine glowed like molten light.
"We've already solved the question of food.Solve the question of power, and the world will need no gods—"
A pause, the faint curve of a smile.
"—because we will be them."
The butler hesitated.
"There was one more detail, my lord. Records mention an external consultant—a Psionic from the PSB, codename N.A persuasion-type Telepath. We attempted contact. He refused."
Aurelian's smile sharpened.
"Of course he did. The gifted always confuse defiance with freedom."
"If he joined," Garrick muttered, "you'd have your perfect mind to match your perfect body."
"Indeed." Aurelian's voice dropped to a murmur."Every god needs a prophet. He could have been mine."
He rose, smooth and unhurried.Beyond the tall window, the dome shimmered under its false daylight.
"Let the others chase purity," he said softly."Tomorrow, we chase evolution."
Garrick's tone was flat.
"You really think the world will kneel?"
Aurelian turned, eyes pale as mercury.
"The world has no choice, Commander.It will kneel—or it will burn."
He smiled, calm and absolute.
"Tomorrow, when the ruins open and the lost sun rises again—the Ashbournes will become the gods of this dying earth."
The light through the dome flickered crimson across the table, glinting off cold plates and spilled wine—a feast already gone to blood.