CHAPTER 170: The Crucible of Chaos - Part VII

CHAPTER 170: The Crucible of Chaos - Part VII

Fénix's team—Fénix, Lucian, Enid, and Marcus—passed through the revolving bronze doors of the imposing skyscraper. The contrast with the outside world was so violent they were left breathless for a moment. There was no trace of chaos, dust, or decay. The lobby was a chamber of surreal opulence: immaculate white marble reflecting the light of enormous crystal chandeliers, designer furniture with perfect lines, and a carpet so thick it muffled their footsteps. The air smelled clean, of expensive flowers and absolute silence.

"This makes no sense," Lucian muttered, his voice echoing in the empty vastness. "It's as if the war never reached here."

"Or as if someone swept it under the rug," added Fénix, his gaze scrutinizing every corner with distrust. "It's a façade. A pretty cage."

They advanced cautiously through the hallways, passing artworks worth fortunes and niches with classical sculptures. The perfection was unnerving.

It was then that Lucian stopped dead. His gaze drifted for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice carried a weight it hadn't before.

"Wait... What about Vanessa?" he asked, turning to the group, his expression a mix of hope and dread. "Did anyone see her... after?"

Everyone looked at Enid. She maintained her composure, though a shadow crossed her eyes. She took a deep breath.

"Vanessa didn't make it out," she said, her tone deliberately flat, factual. "The mutated creature caught her just as the barrier was closing. I... I saw it. There was no time to do anything."

The blow was physical for Lucian. He took a step back, as if punched in the gut. Fresh, sharp pain took over his face.

"No..." he managed to articulate, his voice broken. "She was... one of the best."

Fénix placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I know," said Fénix, his voice grave but full of unbreakable resolve. "And for her, and for all we've lost, is why we can't stop now. Mourning will have to wait."

Lucian nodded, clenching his fists. The pain didn't leave, but it transformed into a cold ember of determination in his eyes.

In silence, they found an elevator with golden panels. The ascent to the top was a slow climb filled with ominous silence. When the doors slid open, they found themselves in a penthouse suite of obscene proportions. The floor was made of armored glass, the walls were screens showing real-time views of the chaos in Manhattan. And in the center, behind a polished ebony desk, they were awaited.

Viktor, in an impeccable suit, smiled with a calm that felt obscene. Beside him, DAREM, dressed in black, did not smile. His gaze was that of a hawk measuring its prey.

Viktor's eyes gleamed with perverse interest when they settled on Fénix.

"Well, well," Viktor said, his voice a silken whisper. "The ghost who refuses to rest. Fénix. I thought the Crucible would have claimed you forever."

"Your expectations were always limited, Viktor," Fénix replied, stepping forward. "We're here to put an end to your circus."

Viktor made a dismissive gesture inviting them to sit. With reluctance, the team took seats around the table. It was Enid who broke the tense silence, her voice laden with contained defiance.

"Why? All this bloodshed, this Crucible of Chaos... for what?"

Viktor leaned back, and with a finger, elegantly pushed back a strand of silver hair from his forehead. He revealed a scar. It wasn't a simple line, but something deep, technological, branching over his temple like a golden circuit embedded in the flesh.

"What I seek is the purge," he declared, his gaze lost in some internal vision. "The total annihilation of the lycan and vampire races. I've watched for centuries as their eternal war poisons this world. I decided it was time to... accelerate the process."

Enid leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the scar. Recognition and disbelief battled on her face.

"That mark... It's not possible. How did you escape the glacier? How are you still here?"

A slow, arrogant smile spread across Viktor's face.

"Oh, dear Enid. The body is just a vehicle. When one wears out... you get a new one." His gaze deliberately settled on Fénix. "My consciousness, my essence, traveled miles through ice and nothingness until it found this... vessel. Viktor's body. Young, powerful. Almost perfect."

A sudden, intense, visceral chill ran down Fénix's spine. It wasn't just the horror of the revelation, but the way Viktor looked at him as he said it. It was the look of a collector contemplating his next acquisition.

"I don't understand all your twisted words," Fénix growled, ignoring the cold seizing his gut. "I only know this ends today."

"I admire your simplicity, Fénix. It's... refreshing," said Viktor, his smile turning even more dangerous. "And it's because of that vitality, that unique resilience, that I have already chosen my next host. It will be a considerable upgrade, believe me."

The insinuation was as clear as it was grotesque. The chill in Fénix turned into a wave of nausea. He didn't just want to kill them; he wanted to possess him.

Fénix leaped to his feet, the chair screeching against the glass floor.

"No more games, Viktor!"

At the same time, Darem stood up. An almost religious ecstasy illuminated his harsh features. From his sleeves, he slid out two long, curved bayonets, which captured the light with a menacing glint.

"'And on the day of judgment,'" Darem recited, his voice a deep, disturbing chant, "'the Lord will separate the sheep from the goats...'"

He didn't wait to finish the verse. Fénix charged. It was an explosion of pure rage. He dodged an initial slash, grabbed Darem's wrists with both hands, and using the momentum of his own attack, rammed him against the huge panoramic window.

The glass, designed to withstand hurricanes, exploded in a rain of a thousand diamonds under the force of the impact. For an instant suspended in the air, the figures of Fénix and Darem were silhouetted against the twilight sky before vanishing, wrapped in a whirlwind of shining fragments, in their fall toward the streets of Manhattan.