In the darkness of the underground passage, Daniel walked slowly, his staff glowing faintly as it reactivated the old enchantments step by step.
Golden runes flashed on the stone walls, lighting the narrow path. Years ago, Daniel had packed this escape tunnel with layered rune traps—both defensive and destructive.
If the base was ever overrun and Daniel had to flee, these runes could buy him time—or wipe out anyone chasing him. Activated in reverse, the magic circles switched from defending the inside to keeping intruders out.
Only Daniel could control them.
And if necessary, he could destroy the entire base with a single command.
Back then, hiding underground offered some protection. Flattening a base like this would've taken loads of bombs. But now? One tactical nuke, and everything—including everyone inside—would be vaporized.
Even Daniel wouldn't survive a full nuclear blast head-on.
On the outer edge, maybe... with luck and magic, he could make it out. But he had doubts anyone knew he'd returned. After all, it'd been decades. Paranoia fades with time
Inside a sealed room with plain gray floors and white walls, a hidden door slid open quietly. Daniel stepped inside, hovering just above the floor. A simple wave of his staff shut off the trap runes embedded in the floor.
A gust of wind swept through. Dust lifted and settled. The secret chamber returned to its original state—untouched.
No one had been here in decades.
Small but secure, this was Daniel's private sanctum. Before he left, he locked it down completely. Only he had the authority to reopen it—and few even knew it existed.
This was where the main self-destruct failsafe for the base was hidden. From here, Daniel could monitor the entire facility via magic-linked surveillance nodes.
As his feet lightly touched the floor, his magic surged into the formation engraved beneath the surface. The room pulsed with golden light, syncing with Daniel's spirit to scan through every corridor and level of the base.
He exhaled slowly.
The base had expanded massively.
Even with magic, even with his power, he couldn't sense every room anymore. Not all of his original enchantments still worked. Time had eroded much of what he'd set in place, and growth had outpaced his wards. What was once a compact outpost was now layered and sprawling.
In the beginning, eight people had squeezed into ten-square-meter bunkrooms. Expanding the base had always been part of the plan. Daniel had brought in digging equipment long before evacuation—and plenty of explosives in case things had to be sealed forever.
Being buried deep under the Arctic, they'd made all the noise they wanted without worrying the outside world. And now, decades later, the base was easily multiple times bigger than when Daniel had left.
Thankfully, the newly dug areas seemed to serve low-priority purposes: living quarters, storage, maybe internal logistics. The real command and defense sectors still sat near the surface, built for strength. That's where any real threats—or defenses—would be focused.
And from what Daniel could sense, the base's current crew wasn't strong enough to resist someone like him. He already had a good idea where their weak points were.
Satisfied, Daniel exited the chamber.
A layer of dust slid off an old metal door as it creaked open. He entered the corridor. Surveillance cams lined the ceiling—but none of them noticed him. Either the enchantments had cloaked him completely, or the base's tech was falling apart.
He moved through the hallway slowly. There was no one here.
Not surprising.
Decades ago, this corridor had been the command center of the entire base. But Daniel had locked it before leaving. Without his clearance, no one could access it. Eventually, the heart of the base must've shifted elsewhere.
Of course, some had tried to force their way in. But they were blocked. Not by machines—by people.
Daniel had left one person in charge, a woman with authority. But she wasn't from the Reich. Even with protocols and handwritten endorsements, it was easier for her to manage external relations—businesses, politics, funding.
Most of Daniel's original followers were trained soldiers, agents, or scientists loyal to him alone. She could only command the support staff and lab techs. With no strength to enforce her authority, she'd had to win people over slowly.
Time passed. Some loyalists aged and died. Others left to run Norwich Energy on the outside. The base emptied. Inside, stability weakened.
And now, as Daniel walked these empty halls, the silence told the rest of the story.
Until he reached the door of the core control room.
Outside the reinforced stone door stood over a dozen armed base guards—tense, weapons ready. Opposite them—three people.
Two women and one man. Young. Dressed in black leather, pierced with rings across their noses and tongues. Oversized jackets, spiked boots. Gothic and hostile.
More importantly—mutants.
Daniel could sense them at a glance.
Inside the sealed control room, raised voices leaked through the stone. A heated argument. Even with the soundproofing, it was loud.
So it had come to this.
Decades ago, there were no mutants here—except for her. She had been the only one. The rest were agents, enhanced soldiers, and the product of Daniel's own experiments.
Now there were others. More mutants. Clearly not part of the original team—and clearly not welcome.
One of the women suddenly snapped her gaze toward Daniel.
"Who's there?" she barked.
The other mutant vanished in a flash—and reappeared behind him in an instant, blade already swinging toward his lower back.
Clang!
Before the blade landed, Daniel's dagger blocked it with barely a sound. In a heartbeat, he turned and countered. His strike pierced the air—aimed cleanly at her heart.
But she shimmered out of reach—as if phasing through.
Behind him again. Another slash.
He blocked it, again.
She vanished once more, retreating to her companions with a guarded look. Whoever Daniel was, he wasn't just another old soldier.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
Daniel replied coldly, "Better question—who are you? If I remember right, outsiders weren't allowed in this base. Anyone unauthorized... was to be shot."
"And we're supposed to care?" the male mutant sneered. "We run this place now. Who you even supposed to be?"
Daniel looked past them, toward the base guards standing in confusion. "What's happening in the control room?"
The soldiers fidgeted. They didn't recognize this man—but he had just walked out of the forgotten part of the base no one else had access to. That couldn't be ignored.
One stepped forward.
"Sir," the man said, hesitating briefly. "Colonel… they want us to abandon the base. Take everything and leave."
"Colonel?" muttered someone behind him. The others traded confused looks. Since when did they have a colonel?
The man who had spoken—Kilner—stared straight ahead.
Then, Daniel stepped forward and addressed the group without hesitation.
"You can call me Colonel van der Berg," he said calmly. "Long live Hydra."
The reaction was immediate.
"Long Live Hydra!" shouted the soldiers, saluting in unison—instinct overriding confusion.
Every hand rose. Every voice joined the call.
Decades had passed. The uniforms had changed.But the creed remained.