"If you don't speak, I will make you speak. Believe me," Ethan said, his voice a low, melodic vibration that seemed to rattle Putin's very teeth. "The Matriarch only asked that you wouldn't die. I promise you... you will stay alive through everything I do to you."

Putin's gaze flickered to Boris. The giant was now little more than a weeping, translucent skeleton held together by amethyst threads of energy. The fact that Boris was still conscious, still able to emit those ragged, high-pitched shrieks of agony, was a testament to Ethan's absolute control over life and death. Boris had been trained by the most brutal programs in the frozen north, yet he was sobbing like a broken child.

The President of Olympus knew its limits. He saw the void opening in Ethan's palm, and for the first time, the "Iron Tsar" broke.

"Stop..." Putin rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "I will tell you."

The world's digital heart skipped a beat. The chat on the live feed, powered by Crul's unbreakable VPN, exploded:

User_99: "HE'S GOING TO TALK! THE TRUTH IS COMING OUT!"*

VoidWatcher: "Look at Boris... that's not science, that's hell."*

Anon_X: "Record everything! They can't hide this anymore!"*

"We were looking for the 'Ichor Factor,'" Putin confessed, his eyes cast down. "Regeneration. We knew the world was changing, that the 'Outsiders' from beyond the dome were coming. We needed a soldier that couldn't be killed. A soldier that could regrow a limb in seconds."

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "And the Scavengers?"

"They were our primary suppliers and partners," Putin continued, his voice gaining a grim, clinical edge. "They kidnapped the 'raw materials'—thousands of them. The most genetically resilient specimens were sent here, to the Kremlin's sub-levels. We cross-referenced their DNA with every apex predator and spirit beast we could find. We created the 'Immortal Legion.' Half stayed here... the other half were returned to the Scavengers as payment."

Ethan's mind flashed back to the twisted monsters he had fought—beings that looked human but moved like insects, their flesh knitting back together faster than he could cut it.

"We didn't just mix DNA," Putin added, his voice trembling. "We layered it. Hundreds of thousands of combinations. We fused the essence of thousands of humans into single subjects, creating a biological 'super-position.' They aren't humans anymore. They are biological machines programmed for two things: to kill and to consume blood to fuel their regeneration."

The global audience reacted with a wave of visceral disgust and fury:

FreedomFighter: "Hundreds of thousands of people... monsters!"

ScienceBitch: "They created a viral biomass. That's why they look like that. It's a cancer with a brain."

JusticeForAll: "Royal was right. The Union was a butcher shop."

Ethan looked at the ruined palace, his expression unreadable. "You turned my people into fuel for your 'Immortal' nightmares. You played God with the blood of the innocent."

He turned his hand, and with a final, crushing pulse of gravity, Boris's skeletal remains were erased from existence, leaving not even ash behind.

"President," Ethan said, stepping so close their chests touched. "You say you wanted to protect this world from the Outsiders. But looking at what you've built... I think the Outsiders might be an improvement."

Ethan looked directly into one of the hovering phone cameras, his violet eyes glowing with a terrifying authority. "To every faction still hiding in the shadows: I have the data. I have the locations of these labs. Royal is no longer just defending its borders. We are coming to clean the house. And we start... with the 'Immortal' trash you left behind."

"Crul, locate every active research facility in the vicinity. I want the roots of this cancer exposed."

[Mapping internal infrastructure, Master] Crul's voice echoed through the local speakers, overriding Moscow's emergency systems. [There are seventeen primary nodes. The most significant facility, Project 'Ouroboros', is located exactly four hundred meters directly beneath the foundations of the Kremlin.]

Ethan floated upward, his black hair whipping in the freezing Russian wind. The moonlight caught his amethyst skin, making him look like a vengeful celestial. Below, thousands of phone cameras tilted upward, capturing the image of the beautiful idol-turned-god.

"Watch closely," Ethan addressed the lenses, his voice amplified by the air itself. "I will show you the fate of those who play at being God while standing on the corpses of the innocent."

He raised his right arm, the air around his fist beginning to warp and groan under the sheer weight of condensed Void energy. With a roar of power, he threw a downward punch toward the heart of the palace ruins.

The impact was cataclysmic. A shockwave erupted with the force of a falling meteor, the ground caving in as a massive, perfectly circular crater was carved into the earth. The sound was deafening, a roar that threatened to burst the eardrums of every mortal in a five-mile radius.

However, as the gale-force winds and razor-sharp debris exploded outward, Ethan descended slightly, positioning his own body as a barrier. He manipulated the air pressure, creating a silent, calm pocket around the civilians and their cameras. He made sure the "reporters" weren't harmed—not out of mercy, but to ensure the world had a steady, unshakeable view of the destruction.

As the dust settled, the deep crater revealed a jagged, metallic structure—a high-tech, reinforced bunker that had been buried like a secret sin. The laboratory was exposed, its sterile white hallways and cryo-tanks visible to the millions watching the live feed.

"There it is," Ethan pointed, his voice dripping with disdain. "The laboratory where they stitched together your nightmares. The world has no need for something so perverse."

He didn't wait for a response. With a second casual strike, he sent a concentrated pulse of Void energy into the exposed bunker. The reinforced steel and titanium crumbled like wet paper. The entire facility was reduced to a blackened, unrecognizable pit of rubble, burying the "Immortal" experiments under millions of tons of stone.

Ethan turned back to Putin, who stood amidst the ruins of his legacy, his face pale and drained of blood.

"You have forty-eight hours, Mr. President," Ethan stated, his violet eyes locking onto the Tsar's. "Every laboratory in your territory must be leveled. Every specimen must be incinerated. If a single one remains after the deadline, I will return. And next time... there will be no more favors from the Matriarch to save your skin."

In a flash of amethyst light, Ethan vanished, leaving the world in a state of absolute, terrified silence.