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Fifteen years have passed since the initial outbreak in Harran.
Villedor is a concrete cage—a European bastion that was sealed off the moment the infection spiraled out of control. Once, the walls were meant to keep the virus in; now, they are the only thing keeping the survivors from the rotting void outside. In this world, Villedor is the last light in a dying world.
Kael was once a bio-researcher for the GRE, a fresh recruit specifically assigned to the THV strain—the "Next-Gen" virus born from the GRE's refusal to stop playing God. When the Great Collapse hit Villedor, it was sudden and bloody. Abandoned by his evacuation unit, Kael was left behind in a city of the dead.
But a Calculating Survivor doesn't just die. Kael salvaged the high-end hardware and chemical supplies his colleagues left in their panic. For fifteen years, he has carved out a life in the ruins, turning a hidden laboratory into a fortress. He continued his research on the THV virus, not for the GRE, but for himself. He even developed a crude inhibitor using a rare local mushroom—it's volatile and has side effects that would make a Ripperdoc wince, but it works.
The primary ingredient for his research? Volatile tissue. These apex predators are the nightmare of the night, fast enough to outrun a parkour master and strong enough to tear through steel. But Kael knows their one weakness: Ultraviolet light. To Kael, a Volatile isn't just a monster; it's a resource.
A sudden, rhythmic pounding on the heavy steel door startled Kael from a rare dream of Night City. He sat up, pulling off his sleep mask. His room was bathed in the violet hum of high-output UV lights. It wasn't because he was turning—it was the only way he could sleep without his hand on his holster. PTSD is the only thing everyone in Villedor shares.
Kael checked his monitors. A familiar, scarred face stared into the lens.
"Hakon?"
Hakon was a former Night Runner, a man who knew the city's shadows better than anyone. He'd worked for Kael before, scavenging Dark Zones for GRE data. He was one of the few who knew the location of this specific safe house.
Hakon was desperate. He was banging on the door, his eyes darting to the street behind him where the shrieks of Virals—newly infected, fast-moving runners—echoed through the alleyways. Beside him stood a younger man, pale and trembling. He was clearly in the middle of a seizure, his infection levels redlining.
"Kael! I know you're in there! If you want your GRE data, open the damn door!" Hakon roared at the camera.
"Hakon! They're coming!" the young man, Aiden, rasped, tightening his grip on a rusted pipe.
Kael sighed, picking up his crossbow from the nightstand. A click echoed through the alley as Kael remotely activated the external UV array. The Virals wailed, their flesh sizzling as they retreated into the dark.
Kael cracked the door open, his Calculating Survivor gaze scanning Aiden. "You brought an infected to my doorstep, Hakon. That's a major breach of protocol."
"Aren't you the one always looking for fresh samples? I brought you a live one," Hakon quipped, though his hands were shaking. He pushed a pristine Circuit Board into Kael's hand as a bribe. "Compensation for the heart attack."
Kael inspected the board. High-end tech, undamaged. He stepped back, allowing them into the outer airlock. "Rules: Stay in the outer room. Touch anything, and you're a flatline."
"Believe me, I'm not looking for a tour," Hakon muttered. "Your safe houses are more trap than house."
Kael walked up to Aiden with a blood extractor. The young man flinched.
"Protection fee," Kael said flatly. He drew a large vial of the dark, infected blood, then tossed Aiden two chocolate bars. In Villedor, sugar was better than gold.
"He's a Pilgrim, Kael," Hakon explained. "He needs a Biomarker. He's turning, and he won't last another night without one."
"The hospital is your best bet," Kael replied, pointing a thumb toward the skyline. "GRE tech is still there, if you're suicidal enough to go get it."
"The hospital is a death trap," Hakon growled. "But if you don't have one here..."
"I don't. But," Kael slid a hand-drawn map across the table, "I need a specific batch of meds from the lab on the third floor. You get me my samples, and I'll tell you exactly where they keep the Biomarker crates. It's a standard trade."
Hakon looked at the map, then at the two UV Flares Kael placed beside it. He grabbed them like they were holy relics. "Dawn is in three hours. We move now."
As the door hissed shut behind them, Kael lay back on his bed. The name "Aiden" felt like a ghost in his mind, but he was too tired to chase it. Suddenly, his consciousness was pulled.
The White Space materialized.
"Holy crap!!" Kael-Villedor shouted, slapping his forehead. "I'm a genius! Why did I wait this long to wake up?!"
The collective knowledge hit him like a neural-feedback loop. Demon Slayer Kael placed a hand on his shoulder. "Perfect timing. We need to talk about bio-chemical triggers for demon tissue."
Villedor-Kael grinned. His years of minimalist, apocalyptic engineering were exactly what the Taisho era needed. High-output UV tech, portable and rugged, designed to kill monsters in the dark.
He turned to Cyber-Kael. "Teach me the high-end Biotechnica specs. I'm tired of using mushrooms to fix my blood."
"Don't say another word," Cyber-Kael replied with a cynical smirk. "We're all the same person. Let's get to work."
When Kael opened his eyes back in Villedor, the sun was rising. He felt the surging power of the Power of Seven—the strength of a Witcher, the reflexes of an Edgerunner, and the resilience of a Slayer.
He looked at his crossbow and chuckled.
"Alright. Time for a deathless speedrun."
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