Lee stood alone in front of the display, watching markers move across Seoul like pieces on a board.
His communicator buzzed, a private channel. No caller ID.
He answered.
"Captain Lee." The voice was distorted, mechanically altered. "You're making a mistake."
"Who is this?"
"Someone who knows what the Damascus Protocol actually contains. You must have read the files, yes? The extraction procedures? The kill methods?"
"How did you get this line?"
"Wrong question. You should ask: why does Crucible keep detailed instructions on murdering seed recipients?" The voice paused. "Extraction is just the cover story. The ritual's real purpose is something else. Something that requires all the seven recipients dead at the exact moment of convergence."
Lee's hand tightened on the communicator. "What purpose?"
"Opening a door. To somewhere that should stay closed. The seeds aren't meant to be harvested—they're meant to be detonated, seven keys, seven locks, seven deaths at the convergence point creates a rift."
"A rift to where?"
"Somewhere the Primordials came from. And if that door opens, seed extraction will surely be the least of humanity's problems."
The call ended.
Lee stared at the dead communicator for thirty seconds.
Then he reopened the holographic display and pulled up classified files. The deepest ones. The kind that required Director-level clearance.
He searched for: "Dimensional rifts, Primordial origins, Convergence events."
Twelve matches.
All marked: [INFORMATION RESTRICTED - EYES ONLY - DIRECTOR CLEARANCE]
Lee tried his access code anyway.
[ACCESS DENIED]
He tried again.
[ACCESS DENIED - FURTHER ATTEMPTS WILL BE LOGGED]
Lee closed the terminal and walked to the window. Dawn's light painted Seoul's towers gold and orange.
Somewhere in that sprawl, seven people were about to die.
Either from extraction attempts.
Or from whatever opening the rift would unleash.
He needed more information.
He needed to talk to someone who understood dimensional mechanics.
He needed—
His communicator buzzed again, a different number. This one he recognized it.
"Lee, it's Park, crucible Initiative. You need to see something, now, don't tell your superiors. Don't bring backup, just you."
"What is it?"
"Proof that everything we think we know about the Damascus Protocol is wrong. Meet me at the old subway station, platform Seven in thirty minutes."
The call ended.
Lee checked his weapon, fully charged. He grabbed a second magazine and headed for the door.
---
Rye Village - Somewhere Else Entirely - 7:45 AM
Wrong world. But for just a moment, somewhere in the fabric of reality, a connection formed.
A boy named Shen Hai stood at his window, watching rain fall on a mountain village
A boy named Yoo stood in his cell, watching Seoul's towers through reinforced glass.
Neither knew the other existed.
But the universe knew both.
And somewhere in the space between moments, a third consciousness stirred. Neither Shen Hai nor Yoo, someone different from both
"Interesting," it whispered to no one. "Two scattered souls, two reincarnations, very rare."
The moment passed.
Shen hai went to sleep.
Yoo stayed awake.
And the universe continued not caring about either.
---
Crucible Initiative - Cell 47 - 8:15 AM
Yoo sat on his bed, data chip from Instructor Han in one hand, vial of Serpent's Venom in the other.
Akasha Archive, probability analysis. If I fake death using the venom, what are success rates for escape?
"Processing... Multiple variables. Convergence chaos: 89% probability. Crucible distracted by faction attacks: 76% probability. Successful escape during confusion: 43% probability. Survival post-escape: 31% probability."
Thirty-one percent.
Not good odds.
But better than zero.
Alternative: Stay. Fight. Use the chaos to—what? I'm Iron 19. Multiple Gold-ranks coming together. Even with Akasha Archive's optimization, I can't fight that many.
"Correct assessment. Recommend: Strategic retreat. Fake death. Resurface when stronger."
But Jae-sung—
"Father's location unknown. Damascus Protocol contains no data on non-recipient subjects. Escaping now preserves ability to search later. Dying now ends all possibilities."
Logic sounded perfect.
Yoo inserted the data chip into his reader and began studying the Damascus Protocol fragments.
Subject 23: Park Min-seo. Silver 35. Military background. Living alone.
Subject 31: Status unknown. Presumed dead or hiding.
Subject 45: Chen Wei. Gold 32. Protected by the Azure Sky Syndicate.
Subject 47: Him. Iron 19. Crucible custody. Highest value.
Three others. Names redacted, Locations classified even in the leak.
Someone knew where all seven were.
Someone had distributed this information to start a war.
But why?
Yoo flipped to the ritual section.
SERPENT'S EYE RITUAL
REQUIREMENTS:
- Seven Primordial seed recipients (living)
- Dimensional convergence (timing critical)
- Damascus Mirror (focus point)
- Convergence Stones (spatial anchors)
- Voidblood Ink (binding medium)
- Seven Binding Chains (containment)
PROCEDURE
1. Position recipients at convergence point
2. Establish spatial binding using Chains
3. Activate Damascus Mirror during convergence peak
4. Extract seeds simultaneously
5. [SECTION REDACTED]
Step 5 was missing.
The file ended there.
Whoever leaked the Damascus Protocol deliberately removed the final step.
Why? What happens after extraction?
Yoo's enhanced perception suddenly spiked. Someone approaching his cell. Fast. Multiple signatures.
He hid both items—chip and vial—inside his mattress lining.
The door opened.
Director Kwan stepped in, flanked by four guards. All Gold-rank.
"Subject Yoo." Kwan's expression was unreadable. "We're moving you. Effective immediately. New facility. Better security."
"Where?"
"Classified." Kwan gestured. The guards moved forward. "You'll be sedated for transport. Standard procedure."
Yoo's mind raced. Sedated. Moved to unknown location. Loss of awareness. Unacceptable.
"I refuse."
"This isn't a negotiation." Kwan nodded to the guards. "Make it quick."
The closest guard pulled out an injector. Medical-grade sedative. The kind used for surgery.
Yoo's body tensed.
Akasha Archive, combat assessment.
"Four Gold-ranks. Director is Diamond-tier minimum. Probability of successful resistance: 0.02%."
Not fighting to win. Fighting to delay.
The guard reached for his arm.
Yoo moved.
Not toward the guard. Toward the window.
His fist smashed into reinforced glass. The impact broke three fingers. Alarms shrieked.
"Restrain him!" Kwan barked.
Hands grabbed Yoo from behind. He twisted, broke another finger dislocating it deliberately, slipped the grip—
The injector jabbed into his neck.
Cold flooded his veins.
His legs gave out.
The last thing he saw before darkness took him:
Kwan's face, neither angry nor concerned. Just observing.
Like a scientist watching an experiment.