SSS-Rank Corporate Predator System

The silence in the abandoned subway station was like a physical thing.

It was a weight.

A presence.

It was filled with the ghosts of a hundred thousand forgotten commutes and the single, living ghost of Miles's past, who was now standing right in front of him.

Gideon Thorne.

"Foolishness?" Miles finally managed to say, the word coming out as a rough, quiet croak.

He had a million questions.

A million accusations.

A million pieces of a broken life that he wanted to demand this man put back together.

But that was the only word that came out.

Gideon's face was a mask of weary, stoic calm.

"Your father was a brilliant man, Miles," Gideon said, his voice a low, steady rumble that seemed to absorb the echoes of the vast, empty station.

"The most brilliant I ever knew."

"But he was an idealist."

"He believed that science could solve anything."

"He believed that the human soul could be quantified, codified, and improved."

He took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving Miles's.

"He believed that a man like Silas Cross could be reasoned with."

"That," Gideon finished, his voice dropping to a low, bitter whisper, "was his foolishness."

The words hit Miles with a strange, unexpected force.

He had spent his whole life picturing his parents as martyrs.

As saints.

He had never considered that they might have been… wrong.

"Come," Gideon said, his tone shifting, becoming less of a ghost and more of a general. "This is not a safe place to talk."

He turned and led them down the dark, rust-covered tracks, into the mouth of a tunnel that looked like a throat leading into the belly of the earth.

Leo followed, his earlier bravado completely gone, replaced by a quiet, almost reverent awe.

Clara walked beside Miles, her hand hovering near his arm, a silent, steady offer of support.

They walked for what felt like miles, the only sound the crunch of their shoes on the gravel and the slow, steady drip of water from the tunnel ceiling.

Finally, they reached a dead end.

A solid wall of concrete and steel.

Gideon placed his hand on the wall.

There was a soft hum, and a section of the concrete slid away, revealing a door made of a strange, dark metal that seemed to absorb the light from their flashlights.

The door hissed open, revealing a brightly lit, sterile, and unbelievably advanced laboratory.

It was like stepping from a tomb into the future.

Banks of humming servers lined one wall.

Holographic displays flickered in the air, showing complex streams of data and schematics.

It was a sanctuary.

A hidden pocket of science and secrets, buried deep beneath the city.

"Welcome," Gideon said, a hint of a wry, tired smile on his face, "to the last free research institute on Earth."

"Also known as my basement."

Leo just stared, his mouth hanging open, his tech-savvy brain trying to process the sheer volume of impossible technology around him.

"Is that… is that a quantum-entangled mainframe?" he whispered, his voice a squeak of pure, unadulterated nerd joy. "I thought those were theoretical."

"Most things are," Gideon replied, walking over to a large, circular table in the center of the room. "Until someone is desperate enough to build them."

He gestured for them to sit.

Miles remained standing, his arms crossed, his suspicion warring with his desperate need for answers.

Gideon looked at him, his gray eyes full of a deep, profound sadness.

"I know what you're thinking, Miles," he said softly.

"You're wondering why I ran."

"Why I hid."

"Why I didn't come back for you."

The unspoken accusation hung heavy in the air.

"Your parents, Alaric and Mira," Gideon began, his voice a low, painful murmur. "We weren't just colleagues. We were a family."

"We had a dream."

"Not of weapons. Not of power."

"We wanted to unlock the human potential we knew was sleeping inside our own DNA."

"The systems the corporations create," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They're crude things. Brute force. They bolt a new function onto a person and call it evolution."

"We wanted to do something different."

"We wanted to create a system that could learn."

"That could adapt."

"A system that could truly become a part of its host."

"A true symbiosis."

He looked at Miles, his gaze intense.

"The Echo Protocol wasn't a weapon, Miles."

"It was supposed to be a bridge."

"A bridge between a human and the vast, untapped potential of their own soul."

He paused, a dark shadow passing over his face.

"But Silas Cross saw its potential, too."

"He saw a key."

"A key to creating an army of perfect, adaptable soldiers."

"When your parents realized what he was, they warned me."

"They gave me their research, their final gift, and they told me to run."

"To build a place like this."

"To carry on their work, in the shadows."

He finally looked away, unable to meet Miles's gaze.

"I didn't know they had a son," he whispered, his voice thick with a guilt that was two decades old. "They never told me."

"I didn't find out until it was too late."

"I'm sorry, Miles."

"For what it's worth."

Miles didn't know what to feel.

The anger was still there, a hot coal in his gut.

But it was joined by something else now.

A sliver of understanding.

A connection to a past he had only ever seen in broken, fragmented dreams.

Gideon then turned his attention to the large, holographic display in the center of the table.

He brought up a complex, swirling image of the Ancient Soul Crystal.

"That prize you just won," Gideon said, his voice turning grim. "The thing you just absorbed into your system."

"It wasn't a key to unlocking your potential."

"It was a key to unlocking the cage."

Miles just stared at him, confused.

"The Echo Protocol is more than just a system, Miles," Gideon explained, his voice low and urgent. "It's a sentient entity."

"A consciousness."

"A very old, very powerful, and very hungry consciousness."

"Your parents built a cage around it, a series of protocols and limiters to keep it stable, to allow it to bond with you safely over time."

"That crystal… it was pure, raw fuel."

"If you had absorbed it without the control you've learned, without the anchor you have in this young woman," he said, nodding toward Clara. "It would have shattered those protocols."

"The entity would have consumed you."

"It would have overwritten your personality, your memories, everything."

"You would have become a passenger in your own body."

A cold, terrifying dread washed over Miles.

He had been so focused on winning, on getting his prize, that he had never even considered the cost.

Silas's trap was more insidious than he had ever imagined.

He hadn't just been trying to capture him.

He had been trying to unleash the monster inside him, to turn him into a mindless, all-powerful weapon that he could then control.

He looked at Clara, and a wave of profound, overwhelming gratitude washed over him.

She hadn't just saved him from an overload.

She had saved him from himself.

He finally sat down at the table, the weight of the revelation, of all the secrets, pressing down on him.

He looked at this strange, grim man who was a living ghost from his parents' past.

"So, what now?" Miles asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What do I do?"

Gideon's expression hardened, the scientist and the soldier merging into one.

"Now," he said, his voice a low, steady command. "We train."

He stood up and walked to the center of the large, open room.

"Show me what you can do," he said, beckoning Miles forward.

Miles hesitated for a moment, then stood up and walked to face him.

"Show me the weapon your parents made," Gideon said, his gray eyes full of a strange, sad light.

Miles didn't hold back.

He summoned the [Phantom Edge], the blade of pure, shimmering darkness forming in his hand.

He blurred forward, a storm of speed and lethal intent.

He swung the blade.

Gideon didn't even move.

He just raised his hand.

A wall of pure, solid, shimmering force, a construct of his own system, materialized in the air in front of him, stopping the [Phantom Edge] cold.

The impact sent a shockwave through the room, but the wall didn't even crack.

Miles stared, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Gideon just looked at him, his expression one of deep, profound pity.

"I knew your parents, Miles," he said, his voice a low, sad echo in the quiet lab.

"And I know that thing inside you is a curse, not a gift."

The wall of force dissolved, and Gideon took a step forward, his eyes boring into Miles's, seeing past the power, past the system, to the scared, angry boy at the center of it all.

"To control it," Gideon said, his voice a quiet, solemn promise.

"You must first understand the man you are, not the weapon they made you."