Damien's smirk deepened, slow and sharp like a blade unsheathing itself.
There it is.
He could see it now, clear as sunlight cutting through smoke. Dominic's voice was calm. Measured. Even sounded generous, on the surface. But underneath?
There was hesitation.
Not kindness.
Not concern.
Just control slipping through his fingers.
"You've already shown me enough," Dominic had said.
A nice little out, Damien thought. A quiet, well-packaged retreat.
Of course.
Because now that the numbers didn't lie… now that Damien's muscle density, vitals, performance ratios were all screaming abnormal, Dominic understood what was happening.
He had feared this from the start.
He had never wanted Damien to use the [Cradle of Primordials].
The Cradle wasn't just some ancient, ceremonial Awakening chamber. It was raw. Unpredictable. A forge meant to draw out what lurked deepest in the bloodline. What was buried. Hidden. Mutated. It either killed the weak or rebirthed them into monsters.
