Smoke twisted through the halls of the underground facility as alarms shrieked a high-pitched warning:
EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. CORE BREACH IMMINENT.
Nian clutched Jace Lei Wei close to his chest, the boy snuggled into his shoulder, thumb in his mouth, blinking through sleepy confusion. Naya moved beside them, her sidearm raised, guiding them toward the exit, eyes scanning for any lingering threats.
"We're almost there," she whispered, brushing a hand along Jace's back. "Hold on, baby."
Behind them, Jun kept pace—wounded, bruised, and visibly torn. The facility he once worshipped was crumbling around him. The Seraphim Protocol—his life's work—now twisted, weaponized, and turning to ash.
Nian's jaw was tight. "How long until the full collapse?"
"Six minutes," Jun replied. "Maybe less if the core detonation isn't contained."
They rounded a corner—floodlights flashed, sprinklers activated, and chaos reigned. Scientists scrambled, guards abandoned their posts, files burned in their arms. Jun winced watching them.
"They're trying to salvage data," he said bitterly. "Still trying to control the project."
Naya spat. "Let it burn."
Then—gunfire.
Automatic.
Three Seraphim enforcers blocked the stairwell exit, their weapons drawn and glowing with a familiar blue pulse—the neural tech Nian helped develop, now turned into death.
"Get behind me," Nian muttered.
Jace whimpered in his arms.
Without hesitation, Jun stepped forward.
"Don't shoot," he said, raising his hands. "I'm Dr. Jun Zhihao, creator of Tier II Seraphim. Stand down!"
The guards hesitated—then scanned him.
"Subject confirmed."
"Orders?" one asked.
Jun glanced at Jace.
Then at Nian.
Then quietly said: "Protect the boy. Let them pass."
A second of silence.
Then—"Acknowledged."
The guards moved aside.
Naya's eyes narrowed. "Why are they still listening to you?"
Jun turned slowly. "Because I'm still coded as Primary Authorization. They think I'm still loyal."
Nian didn't speak. Just pushed past him, gripping his son tighter.
They burst into the upper corridor. Cool night air drifted in through a partially opened exit hatch. The sky above was ink black, the stars obliterated by the smoke of a burning empire.
Jun turned to them at the threshold. "This is where we say goodbye."
"You're not coming?" Naya asked.
"I can't," he said. "I need to make sure Seraphim dies here. Every root. Every code. Every clone."
Nian stared at him. "Why the change of heart?"
Jun looked down, eyes glassy. "Because I saw my future in that boy's eyes. And it was empty."
Then he stepped back and slammed the manual lock behind them.
"JUN!" Naya screamed.
But he was already gone.
Inside, Jun raced to the mainframe, overriding the system one last time.
Initiating: CORE PURGE. Seraphim Protocol Termination Engaged.
As the digital web burned around him, Jun stared at the last line of code he ever wrote:
> "He is just a boy. Not a weapon."
A whisper of peace crossed his lips.
Then—everything went white.
—
Outside, the explosion sent a shockwave across the nearby valley.
The ground shook. Trees swayed. The facility imploded into itself, flames licking the sky like a funeral pyre for everything Seraphim once was.
Naya held Jace tight. Nian stood beside her, silent.
They watched the fire, letting it burn not just the lab—but the guilt, the secrecy, the chains.
"It's over," she whispered.
Nian didn't answer right away. His eyes were on Jace—curled against Naya's chest now, thumb in his mouth, safe.
Finally, he said, "No. It's just beginning."