SSS-Rank Corporate Predator System

Chapter 68: The Clone in the Simulation



The argument was a low, simmering fire.

Kael stood with his arms crossed, a mountain of military pragmatism, his gaze fixed on Miles with an expression of profound skepticism.

"It's a fool's errand," Kael said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the nervous energy of the room.

"You want to send a three-person team into the most heavily fortified corporate structure on the continent."

"That isn't a plan."

"It's a suicide pact orchestrated by a child who thinks he's invincible."

Miles just stared back, his face a perfect, unreadable mask.

He had expected this.

He had anticipated the resistance.

He just hadn't expected it to be so… stubborn.

"Okay, new leadership strategy," his internal monologue whispered, a dry, sarcastic commentary track to his own failing coup. "Maybe I should try yelling."

"That seems to work for a lot of people in charge."

"Or I could challenge him to a dance-off."

"That would be unexpected."

"And I would definitely lose, but the sheer confusion might win them over."

Clara stepped forward, a calm, logical bridge in the widening chasm between the two leaders.

"Kael, your plan is sound from a conventional military perspective," she said, her voice precise and respectful. "A frontal assault. Overwhelming force."

"But Silas Cross isn't a conventional opponent."

"His fortress isn't made of walls. It's made of data."

"A frontal assault is exactly what he would expect. He has a counter for it. He has a dozen."

Kael's jaw tightened. He looked at Clara, a flicker of respect for her intellect warring with his deep-seated distrust of their entire strategy.

"And your plan is to send this… unstable asset in alone?" he countered, gesturing to Miles with a dismissive flick of his chin. "We've all seen what happens when he loses control."

"I'd rather face an army I can see than be in the same room as a bomb that's about to go off."

Miles felt a familiar, hot surge of anger, but he anchored it.

He breathed.

He held it.

This wasn't a fight he could win with words.

Kael wasn't a man who could be convinced by theory.

He was a soldier.

He needed proof.

"Okay," Miles thought, a new, cold clarity settling over him. "You want proof?"

"Let's give you a show."

He closed his real eyes, letting the chaotic argument of the war council fade into a dull, distant buzz.

He opened his second pair.

In the darkest, most shadowed corner of the hidden lab, a place no one was looking, a faint shimmer of displaced air appeared.

The shadows twisted.

They gathered.

They solidified.

A perfect, silent copy of himself materialized in the darkness.

The clone looked at the arguing council, at the fractured, chaotic mess of their fledgling rebellion.

It looked at its original, at the boy who was failing his first real test of command.

A silent, shared understanding passed between them.

A single, cold command.

Show them.

The clone turned and flowed out of the hidden lab, a ghost on a secret mission.

Miles opened his eyes.

The argument was still raging.

They were still losing.

He let them argue.

He had made his choice.

"Fine," Miles said, his voice cutting through the noise, a sudden, surprising note of concession.

"You're right."

Kael stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"You want a demonstration of power," Miles continued, his voice calm, almost detached. "You want to see what a real infiltration looks like."

He walked over to the main holographic display and tapped a few controls.

A new image appeared.

It was a live, high-definition satellite feed of a smaller, less secure Cross Corp administrative building a few miles away.

"That building's security network is a simplified version of the one at the main tower," Miles explained, his voice the cold, precise instrument of a mission briefing. "A good place for a test run."

He then linked the display to a new data stream.

His clone's sensory feed.

The main screen flickered, and suddenly, they were all seeing the world through the clone's eyes.

They were perched on a rooftop across the street, the wind and rain of the digital feed a ghostly echo in the quiet lab.

"What is this?" Kael asked, his voice a low growl of confusion. "A drone?"

"Something like that," Miles said simply.

The clone moved.

It leaped from the rooftop, a silent, graceful arc in the pouring rain, landing on the fire escape of the target building without a sound.

"The main entrance is a death trap," Miles's voice narrated, calm and clinical. "So we don't use it."

The clone slipped through a ventilation grate, a ghost in the machine.

The view switched to the narrow, dark confines of the air ducts.

Then, the first failure.

The clone dropped into a hallway, landing silently on the tiled floor.

The system in Miles's head flared with a warning a split second before a hidden laser grid snapped to life.

The clone tried to [Echo Step] through it, but it was too slow.

The laser beams sliced through its form, and the screen dissolved into a screaming wall of red static.

[SIMULATION TERMINATED. HOST CLONE DESTROYED.]

A jolt of pure, psychic agony shot through Miles's real body.

He grunted, a sharp, involuntary sound, his hand flying to his temple.

The pain was real.

It was the echo of a death he had not experienced, but had felt completely.

Clara rushed to his side, her face a mask of concern. "Miles, are you okay?"

He just waved her off, his face pale, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Run it again," he commanded, his voice a low, ragged growl.

The screen flickered back to life.

The clone was back on the rooftop.

It ran the infiltration again.

This time, it knew about the laser grid.

It used a controlled [Pulse Break] to shatter the emitter on the far wall, disabling the trap before it could activate.

It moved deeper into the building.

It rounded a corner and ran directly into an automated security drone.

The drone's machine guns whirred to life.

The screen dissolved into static again.

[SIMULATION TERMINATED. HOST CLONE DESTROYED.]

Another jolt of agony.

Miles gasped, his vision swimming.

"Stop this, Miles," Clara pleaded, her hand on his shoulder. "It's killing you."

He just shook his head, his teeth gritted.

"Again," he commanded.

The simulation reset.

And again.

And again.

For the next hour, the fractured council watched in stunned, horrified silence.

They watched the clone die.

Over and over.

It was sliced by lasers.

Riddled with bullets.

Crushed by pressure-sensitive plates.

Vaporized by plasma fields.

Each death was a fresh wave of agony for Miles, a psychic scream that left him paler, shakier, his body trembling with the strain.

But each time, the clone got a little further.

It learned.

It adapted.

The system analyzed each failure, refining the path, identifying the patterns in the security AI.

Finally, after the twelfth death, something changed.

The clone moved with a new, fluid, and utterly perfect grace.

It flowed through the building like water.

It bypassed the laser grid.

It used a ricocheted [Pulse Break] to disable the drone from around a corner.

It [Echo Stepped] through a series of pressure plates with a timing so precise it was like a dance.

It reached the central server room, the heart of the building's security.

It placed a small, simulated data spike on the console.

And then, it simply walked out the front door, leaving a trail of disabled, but not destroyed, security systems in its wake.

The screen showed the clone standing on the street, the rain plastering its hoodie to its form.

It looked up at the camera, a final, silent testament to its success.

[SIMULATION COMPLETE. OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED.]

The screen went black.

The lab was silent.

The argument was over.

Kael just stood there, his arms no longer crossed, his face a mask of pure, stunned disbelief.

He had just witnessed a level of tactical evolution, of sheer, bloody-minded perseverance, that he had never thought possible.

He looked at Miles, at the pale, exhausted, and trembling boy who was leaning against a console for support, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He had just watched him die a dozen times.

And he had watched him win.

Kael was a soldier.

And for the first time, he was looking at his commanding officer.

He walked over to Miles.

He didn't say a word.

He just gave a single, sharp, and deeply respectful nod.

The fractured council was united.

Miles had won their respect.

But as he looked at the worried face of Clara, he knew the cost.

He was a leader now.

And he had a terrible feeling that the real pain had only just begun.

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