The central spire swallowed them.

Carol burst through the inner sanctum’s blast door, her coat torn, her hair wild, her red eyes wide with something she hadn’t felt in years. Fear. Her boots echoed on the black marble floor as she ran, past the crimson banners, past the kneeling soldiers, past the statues of Eclipse’s fallen heroes.

The Reapers followed, but they were slower, wounded, diminished.

Carol didn’t wait for them.

She reached the throne room at the spire’s heart. A vast circular chamber, domed ceiling painted with scenes of Darwin’s victories. At its center, Darwin sat in his black iron chair, one leg crossed over the other, his gray eyes fixed on the massive screen that showed the courtyard below.

He had watched everything.

Carol stopped ten meters from the throne, her chest heaving. Behind her, the remaining Reapers filed in and took their positions along the walls, silent, wounded, waiting.

"Lord Darwin," Carol said, her voice steady despite her trembling hands. "The courtyard is lost. The Ghost’s forces have breached the eastern gate and are pushing toward the spire. I... we couldn’t stop him."

Darwin didn’t move. His red hair caught the crimson light from the pulsing core beneath the floor. The scar on his forehead seemed darker than usual.

"I see," he said quietly.

Carol’s jaw tightened. "I engaged him personally. His team is... exceptional."

"And the Ghost himself?"

Carol hesitated. It was the first time she had hesitated in Darwin’s presence.

"He’s stronger than the reports suggested. Multi-skill user. I counted at least four distinct abilities: gravity, lightning, shadow manipulation, and some form of mind control. He tried to make me kneel." Her voice dropped. "I resisted, but only barely."

Darwin’s gray eyes flickered. "Only barely."

"Yes." Carol met his gaze. "I’m sorry, Lord Darwin. I failed you."

The throne room fell silent. The only sound was the low hum of the crimson core beneath their feet, the heartbeat of Eclipse itself.

Darwin uncrossed his legs. He stood slowly, his lean frame unfolding like a blade being drawn. He walked toward Carol, each step deliberate, unhurried.

Carol didn’t flinch. She had served Darwin for years. She had seen him execute loyal followers for less. But she also knew he valued honesty above all else.

He stopped inches from her. His gray eyes searched her red ones.

"You didn’t fail," Darwin said.

Carol blinked. "I... didn’t?"

"You followed my orders. Observe. Report. Don’t get your hands dirty unless necessary." A thin smile crossed his lips. "You observed. You reported. And when necessary, you got your hands dirty." He glanced at her torn coat, the blood on her knuckles. "The Ghost is still standing because I wanted him to be."

Carol’s eyes widened. "You wanted him to win the courtyard?"

"I wanted him to exhaust himself." Darwin turned and walked back to his throne, settling into it with a sigh. "The Ghost has been fighting for days. His body is powerful, but even the strongest flame flickers when the fuel runs low."

Carol stepped closer. "His team looked... fresh. The fire user was still throwing full-powered blasts. The liquid manipulator wasn’t showing signs of fatigue."

Darwin’s smile widened. "Ah. That."

He tapped the arm of his throne.

"I don’t know what they’re using," Darwin admitted. "A potion or a skill buff from some unseen ally. But the pattern is clear—their stamina is being artificially sustained." His gray eyes gleamed. "And anything artificial has limits."

Carol’s mind raced. "Then how do we beat them?"

"We wait." Darwin leaned back. "Overuse leads to cellular degradation. Organ failure. Death." He steepled his fingers. "The Ghost is arrogant. He’ll push his team too far. And when they break..."

"They break hard."

"Yes." Darwin’s voice was soft, almost tender. "So we don’t meet them in open combat again. We make them come to us. Through the spire’s defenses. Floor by floor. Trap by trap. Until they have nothing left."

Carol nodded slowly. "And the Cradle?"

Darwin’s expression darkened. "The Cradle remains sealed. If the Ghost reaches it, he’ll find nothing but empty chambers and old bones." He paused. "But he won’t reach it."

Carol looked at the screen, where Julian’s image stood at the base of the spire, his dark hair whipping in the wind, his blue eyes fixed on the camera as if he could see her through the lens.

"He’s coming," Carol said.

"Let him." Darwin raised his hand. From his palm, crimson liquid began to drip, coalescing into a spinning orb. "I’ve been waiting for someone like him. Someone strong enough to make this interesting." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

He clenched his fist. The orb shattered, spraying red droplets across the floor.

"The Ghost wants to burn my Cradle to ash," Darwin murmured. "But fire needs fuel. And I intend to starve him of every last drop."

Carol bowed her head. "Your orders, Lord Darwin?"

"Seal the spire’s lower levels. Activate the inner sanctum’s defense grid. Pull the remaining Reapers back to the throne room." He looked at Carol, his gray eyes burning. "And bring me the girl."

Carol looked up. "The girl?"

"Vex’s daughter. The one we took for the experiments." Darwin’s smile returned, thin and cruel. "If the Ghost wants to save her, he’ll have to get through me first. And by then..." He cracked his knuckles. "He’ll wish he hadn’t."

Carol straightened. "I’ll bring her myself."

"No." Darwin raised a hand. "You’re too valuable to risk in the lower levels. Send a Reaper. One of the ones who can still fight."

Carol glanced at the wounded Reapers along the walls. "Alder. He’s the fastest. He can retrieve the girl and return before the Ghost reaches the second floor."

Darwin nodded. "Do it."

Carol turned and walked to the far wall, where a lean man with silver hair and pale blue eyes waited. His arms were covered in scars, but his hands were steady.

"Alder," Carol said quietly. "The Cradle. Level four. Cell seven. Bring me the girl. Quickly."

Alder bowed and disappeared through a hidden door.

Carol returned to Darwin’s side, her red eyes fixed on the screen.

Julian had already entered the spire.

"Let the games begin," Darwin whispered.