The missile didn't hit me.
It hit Cassian.
Or rather—
He stepped into it.
Time fractured.
One second I was staring at a red targeting laser on my chest.
The next—
Cassian's body slammed into mine, twisting us sideways.
The missile detonated mid-air against a defensive pulse shield deployed from his watch.
A shield.
Of course.
The explosion wasn't fire.
It was pressure.
Soundless, violent force ripping through the turbine hall.
Concrete shattered.
Steel beams screamed.
The power plant collapsed inward.
Adrian dragged me behind a fallen generator as debris rained down like judgment.
The air burned with smoke and sparks.
Through the chaos—
Cassian stood.
Unmoving.
At the epicenter of the blast.
His suit torn at the shoulder.
Blood trailing down his arm.
But upright.
Unaffected in ways he shouldn't be.
The military drones hovered, recalculating.
Targeting again.
Not him.
Me.
Adrian's grip tightened.
"Now do you see?" he shouted over the sirens and collapsing metal.
"See what?!" I yelled back.
"That the Ten aren't afraid of him anymore!"
Another drone shifted position.
A second targeting laser locked onto me.
Cassian turned.
Slowly.
And something inside him—
Shifted.
The air pressure changed.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.
Like gravity tilted toward him.
The drones' targeting systems flickered.
Screens glitched.
They lost lock.
My breath caught.
"What is he doing?" I whispered.
Adrian didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Cassian stepped forward.
One.
Two.
Each step felt heavier.
The ground beneath his shoes cracked.
The drones began dropping from the sky.
Not shot.
Not hacked.
Falling.
Like their systems were collapsing under invisible weight.
The first hit the concrete and exploded.
The second spiraled into the smokestacks.
The third simply powered down and plummeted.
The military helicopters pulled back instantly.
Retreating.
Not tactical repositioning.
Retreating.
Adrian stared.
"…That's new."
The building groaned again.
We had seconds before the entire structure caved in.
Cassian reached us.
His eyes—
They weren't dark anymore.
They were lit.
Not glowing.
Not supernatural.
Just sharp.
Focused.
Like every calculation in the world was running through him simultaneously.
"We're leaving," he said.
Adrian hesitated.
Cassian looked at him once.
And Adrian stepped aside.
We ran.
Out through the collapsing side entrance.
Concrete crashing behind us.
The power plant imploded inward as we reached the outer yard.
The skyline burned orange from emergency lights.
Military sirens cut through the blackout.
But none of them approached us.
They held perimeter.
Afraid.
We reached Cassian's car.
He shoved me inside.
Adrian slid into the back without asking.
Cassian drove.
Fast.
No headlights.
No hesitation.
The silence inside the car was worse than the explosion.
I turned slowly.
"What just happened?"
Cassian didn't answer.
Adrian did.
"That," my brother said softly, "is what you built."
My pulse pounded.
"No. I built a system."
Adrian laughed quietly.
"You built a failsafe."
I looked at Cassian.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
"Tell me," I demanded.
His voice was calm again.
Too calm.
"The system isn't software."
My heart skipped.
"It's not economic."
My stomach tightened.
"It's biological."
The word hollowed me out.
"What does that mean?"
Silence.
Then—
Adrian leaned forward.
"It means the Ten didn't just design infrastructure to contain him."
He looked at me.
"They redesigned him."
The world tilted.
Cassian's jaw tightened.
"You promised you wouldn't tell her like this," he said quietly.
"She deserves to know what she authored," Adrian shot back.
Authored.
I swallowed.
"Explain it."
Adrian exhaled slowly.
"In the first timeline, Cassian destabilized global systems through power consolidation."
"Yes."
"You realized no external structure could restrain him."
"Yes."
"So you asked us to build something internal."
Cold flooded my veins.
No.
No.
"That's not possible."
"It was," Adrian said gently. "Because of what he is."
I turned to Cassian.
"What are you?"
His eyes met mine.
And for the first time—
He hesitated.
"I'm not normal."
The understatement was suffocating.
"You've noticed it," Adrian continued. "His predictive models. His pattern recognition. His influence. It's not just intelligence."
Memory flashed—
Boardrooms shifting direction after one sentence.
Markets responding to subtle movements.
Military generals deferring instinctively.
He didn't just control systems.
He anticipated them.
I felt sick.
"You enhanced him," I whispered.
Adrian shook his head.
"No."
He looked at me.
"You did."
The car felt too small.
Too tight.
"I never—"
"You funded the neurological research division under Vale Infrastructure," Adrian said quietly. "You approved the experimental cognitive augmentation trials."
Flashes returned—
A research lab.
White walls.
Cassian lying in a medical pod.
Me signing consent forms.
My voice saying—
"If this works, he'll never be vulnerable again."
I couldn't breathe.
"You enhanced him," Adrian repeated softly. "And when you saw what that level of processing could become without emotional balance, you panicked."
The car swerved slightly.
Cassian corrected it instantly.
"You didn't just build a leash," Adrian said. "You built a counterweight."
My pulse roared.
"The resets aren't mystical," Adrian continued. "They're neurological reinitializations."
The word hit like a gunshot.
Reinitializations.
"When he crosses instability threshold, his neural architecture overloads. The system triggers correction. His emotional core resets to baseline."
I stared at Cassian.
"You've been… rebooted?"
He didn't answer.
Adrian did.
"Seven times."
The number crushed me.
"Each time she dies," Adrian said softly, "his neural state collapses into grief shock. The failsafe activates. It wipes the escalation pattern."
Tears burned my eyes.
"So killing me—"
"Prevents him from crossing the cognitive singularity point."
Cognitive singularity.
My hands shook.
"And if he crosses it?"
Adrian's voice was almost reverent.
"His predictive capacity becomes exponential."
Cassian finally spoke.
"It's not that dramatic."
Adrian laughed quietly.
"You crashed three defense networks tonight by thinking faster than their algorithms."
Silence.
I looked at Cassian.
He didn't deny it.
"You're not just powerful," I whispered.
He met my gaze.
"I'm accelerating."
My heart slammed violently.
"How far?"
He didn't answer.
Adrian did.
"Every reset doesn't fully erase him."
Cold crept into my spine.
"Fragments remain."
The implication suffocated me.
"You're stacking cognition."
Cassian's voice was low.
"Yes."
Each cycle makes him smarter.
Faster.
More efficient.
More dangerous.
The system was supposed to cap him.
Instead—
It refined him.
I felt like I was drowning.
"This isn't containment," I whispered.
Adrian's expression darkened.
"It's evolution."
The car slowed as we entered an underground garage beneath one of Cassian's private towers.
Security gates opened automatically.
No guards visible.
He parked.
Silence swallowed us.
I turned to him.
"So the Ten aren't afraid of collapse."
"No."
"They're afraid of you reaching singularity."
"Yes."
"And if I survive the correction window…"
"The cap dissolves permanently."
My throat closed.
"How close are you?"
Cassian looked at me steadily.
"Closer than before."
The weight of that answer was catastrophic.
"You said I built something worse than you," I said to Adrian.
He nodded.
"You didn't just design the failsafe."
"What else?"
His eyes softened.
"You designed the trigger."
Ice flooded my veins.
"What trigger?"
Cassian stepped out of the car.
Adrian followed.
I didn't move.
"Tell me," I demanded.
Adrian's voice was quiet.
"You linked his stabilization to you."
My chest tightened painfully.
"In what way?"
He met my eyes.
"Your neural signature."
The world narrowed.
"Your emotional presence regulates his escalation pattern."
Silence.
Heavy.
"You're not just the variable," Adrian said softly.
"You're the anchor."
The word echoed inside my skull.
Anchor.
"You built a system that binds his neural state to your survival."
I stepped out of the car slowly.
"If I die—"
"He resets."
"If I live—"
"He stabilizes."
Cassian's eyes darkened.
"Not exactly."
"What do you mean?"
Adrian exhaled slowly.
"If you live long enough while he escalates…"
My pulse pounded violently.
"…your neural patterns synchronize."
My breath hitched.
"S… synchronize?"
"You stop being the anchor."
The garage lights flickered.
"You become the amplifier."
Silence shattered something inside me.
"That's impossible."
Adrian's gaze was steady.
"Is it?"
Memory crashed down violently—
Not just boardrooms.
Not just labs.
I remembered something else.
A second experiment.
A hidden protocol.
My signature on a sealed file.
Project: GODHEAD.
My knees almost buckled.
Cassian moved instantly, catching me.
"Don't," he murmured.
"Tell me," I demanded.
His jaw tightened.
"You designed a contingency."
"What contingency?"
"If the system failed…"
My pulse thundered.
"…you wanted to evolve with me."
The words detonated inside my skull.
"No."
"Yes."
Adrian stepped closer.
"You were terrified of losing him to power."
"Yes."
"You were terrified of losing the world to him."
"Yes."
"So you designed a third option."
The air felt thin.
"What option?"
Adrian's voice dropped.
"You join him."
The garage lights went out completely.
Total darkness.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
Emergency red lights flickered on.
Bathing everything in blood-colored glow.
My head pounded.
Fragments aligning.
I didn't just build a leash.
I built a ladder.
A way to climb to him.
To match him.
To survive singularity beside him.
The Ten never intended to just kill me.
They were afraid I would activate the final protocol.
Cassian's grip on my arms tightened.
"You don't have to," he said quietly.
"Have to what?"
"Ascend."
The word echoed like blasphemy.
Adrian's eyes gleamed.
"Now you understand."
My pulse roared in my ears.
If I die—
The cycle resets.
If I live—
He crosses singularity.
But if I activate the protocol—
We both cross.
Together.
And no one—
No government.
No Ten.
No system—
Can restrain us.
The ground trembled faintly.
Not from explosion.
From something deeper.
The Ten were moving.
Military wasn't retreating.
They were repositioning.
Containment escalation phase.
Cassian's voice was low.
"They'll try to separate us."
Adrian nodded.
"Because if you synchronize, there's no correction window."
I looked between them.
Seven resets.
Seven times I chose caution.
Seven times he chose sacrifice.
This time—
There was a third option.
My phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
New message.
"PROJECT GODHEAD INITIATED."
My blood froze.
I didn't initiate it.
Another message.
"SYNCHRONIZATION COUNTDOWN: 23:59:48."
Cassian's eyes snapped to mine.
"They found it."
Adrian's expression darkened.
"No," he said quietly.
"They didn't."
He looked at me.
"You did."
The countdown ticked down on my screen.
23:59:47.
23:59:46.
I felt it.
Not metaphorical.
Physical.
A pressure at the base of my skull.
A hum under my skin.
Cassian stepped closer.
"Elara."
His voice wasn't calm anymore.
It wasn't controlled.
It was urgent.
"You don't know what happens if we complete it."
I met his gaze.
"You do."
Silence.
He swallowed once.
"Yes."
"And?"
His answer came slow.
Measured.
"If we synchronize fully…"
The lights flickered violently.
The air pressure shifted again.
"…there will be nothing left to stop us."
The countdown continued.
23:59:12.
23:59:11.
Outside the garage—
Engines roared.
Military vehicles arriving.
Containment closing in.
I looked at the timer.
Then at Cassian.
Then at Adrian.
"You said I built something worse than him," I whispered.
Adrian nodded.
"You built a god."
The garage doors began sealing shut automatically.
Metal slamming down.
Locking us in.
Or locking them out.
I didn't know which.
The countdown hit 23:58:59.
And the hum inside my skull grew louder.
This wasn't about surviving anymore.
This wasn't about resets.
This was about evolution.
And for the first time—
I wasn't afraid of what he might become.
I was afraid of what we might become.
I looked at Cassian.
"Tell me the truth."
His eyes locked onto mine.
Dark.
Intense.
Terrified.
"If we complete this…"
I whispered,
"Will there be anything human left in us?"
He didn't answer.
The countdown hit 23:58:31.
And somewhere deep inside my mind—
Something answered instead.
Yes.
And it was not my voice.
End of Chapter Five.