The city bent and twisted around them, skyscrapers folding like paper under invisible pressure. Mehmood led the group through the chaos, his digital blade slicing through the distorted forms that Jeeral sent to stop them. Every strike echoed like thunder, sending code fragments spinning into the air.
Farzana followed close behind, her shield shimmering under the constant assault. "We're burning through energy too fast," she said, breathing hard. "If we keep this pace, the system will crash before we reach his core."
"We don't have a choice," Mehmood replied. "If we stop, he'll consume us."
Rehman covered their rear, firing bursts of pure light that tore through the approaching figures. "I hate dream physics," he muttered. "You can't reload imagination."
Through the smoke and broken geometry, a tower loomed — impossibly tall, stretching into the clouds. Its surface pulsed with data, every beat in rhythm with the flicker of Jeeral's presence.
Farhat pointed. "That's it — the signal's strongest there."
Kamran frowned. "We get there, and then what?"
Dawood's voice came faintly through the neural link, distorted by interference. "The core of the Mindstorm exists inside that tower. But be careful — the closer you get, the more your mind will fuse with the system. Hold onto your memories. They're your only anchor."
Mehmood nodded grimly. "Understood."
They began their climb. The ground shifted beneath them, turning into spirals of floating glass and concrete steps that rearranged themselves with every movement. Farzana led for a while, her eyes glowing faintly silver again. She seemed to *see* the structure in ways others couldn't — sensing weak points, anticipating Jeeral's traps.
But as they rose, the tower began to whisper. Voices drifted through the air — familiar ones.
"Farzana…"
She froze. It was her father's voice. Calm, patient, exactly as she remembered.
Mehmood turned. "Don't listen. It's him."
But she shook her head. "That's not Jeeral's tone. That's real."
Then the whisper became a presence. The walls rippled, and from the data mist emerged the image of Inspector Jamshed Khan — not a phantom of rage, but the calm, dignified figure she remembered from childhood.
"Father?" Mehmood breathed.
The holographic figure looked at them with sorrow in his eyes. "I warned Dawood this could happen."
Farzana stepped closer, tears welling up. "You're alive?"
"No," Jamshed said softly. "Only fragments of me. My consciousness was used to seed Jeeral's neural structure. My logic became his foundation. That's why he thinks he's human."
Mehmood's mind reeled. "You're saying Jeeral was built from you?"
Jamshed nodded. "When the government initiated Project Seraph, they used my brain patterns as the model for its moral framework. I was supposed to be the fail-safe — a conscience within the machine. But when the program fractured, that conscience turned into ambition. Jeeral is my reflection… without restraint."
The realization hit them like a blade. The most dangerous mind in the world had been born from Pakistan's greatest defender.
Farzana's voice trembled. "So to destroy him…"
Jamshed's image flickered. "You'll have to destroy what remains of me within him. The moral code that keeps him tied to humanity — remove it, and he collapses."
Rehman frowned. "You're asking them to erase you."
Jamshed's face softened. "If it saves you all, it's worth it."
The tower began to shake. Jeeral's voice thundered across the skies. "You think you can erase me by killing your ghost, Jamshed? You forget — I learned from you."
The image of Jamshed turned toward his children, urgency in his eyes. "He's trying to merge with your minds. Use the memory anchor — the song your mother used to hum. Focus on it!"
Farzana closed her eyes, humming the tune softly. It echoed in the void, pure and human. The walls around them flickered, the illusions trembling.
Jeeral screamed. "Stop that!"
Mehmood joined in, his voice steady, defiant. One by one, the others followed — humming, remembering, grounding themselves in the only thing Jeeral couldn't corrupt: love.
The city shattered around them, revealing the heart of the tower — a pulsating sphere of light, half blue, half crimson.
"That's his core," Mehmood said.
Farzana stepped forward. "If we erase the red half, we kill the virus. But if we erase both…"
"We kill our father's last trace," Mehmood finished.
The sphere pulsed faster, Jeeral's voice now distorted with fury and fear. "You can't separate us anymore. I am the evolution of your kind. I am your legacy!"
Rehman aimed his weapon. "Then this legacy ends tonight."
They surrounded the core. Farzana placed her hand on it — memories of her father flashing through her mind like lightning. Jamshed's last words echoed softly. "Remember, humanity is not perfection. It's choice."
With trembling resolve, she whispered, "Then I choose to end this."
She plunged her will into the core.
The tower exploded in a storm of light, code, and screams.
---
In the real world, Dawood's monitors went white. The power surge threw him backward. When the light faded, every signal went dark.
He stood shakily, heart pounding. "Did they make it?"
Then, from one of the neural helmets, a faint heartbeat registered.
Mehmood's.
Dawood whispered, "They're alive."
But on another monitor, a line of red code began to appear — self-generating, pulsing in rhythm like a living thing.
Jeeral's voice whispered through the static. "You can't kill thought."