With the new storm brewing inside the lab, everyone had divided into two factions.
One side believed the Shard of Preservation was decaying, and they rushed into research, desperate to uncover what exactly was breaking down and how such a thing could even be possible.
The other faction suspected something far deeper, hidden beneath the surface. After all, not a single Shard had ever decayed before, nor had any of them borne incomplete inscriptions. And yet, the undeniable resonance with the Shard of Creation left everyone unsettled, raising more suspicions than answers.
"I believe this is the hand of rebellion."
"But they never find anything. We're far ahead of them."
"That's what we believe. But what if someone is playing a double role here?"
"Great, so now there are mice among lions."
"Oi, Shaurya, reveal your intentions now—or you don't know what we can do."
"I always told you he would fall low for success and money."
"Right, how do you expect a zero to—"
Voices rang in Shaurya's ears as he closed his eyes.
Sitting in his chair, Shaurya quietly opened his eyes again. He sighed, and after a long pause, he finally spoke:
"So the Union is so much so—"
Before he could finish, another voice echoed across the room.
"Shaurya, please refrain from saying anything about the Union. Your words can be used against you, and official orders have already been passed from Central Headquarters."
"It's not like I was about to say something bad," Shaurya reasoned with himself.
Everyone turned toward the source of the voice—a voice no one had ever heard before.
"Who are you now?" one scientist demanded.
A man with long legs, wearing a lab coat, long orange hair, and a joyful voice stepped forward.
"Myself, Lucas Shackle. I am the new project member. I'm here to protect my partner. Anyway—here are your official orders."
The room fell into silence.
Shaurya muttered in his thoughts: Anything from Central Headquarters is equivalent to a decree from heaven itself. Now none of them can hold me for anything.
A search operation against Shaurya could no longer proceed—not unless the message itself permitted it.
Lucas walked to the massive screen. His presence alone, combined with the order, placed him in a position of power. From his case, he removed a small box and entered a code. The box clicked open. Everyone held their breath. The atmosphere became suffocatingly quiet.
Lucas set the box aside, pulling out a chip. "Where's the projector?" he asked.
One man stood and handed him another device. Lucas slotted the chip into it. A burst of white light filled the room as the projector hummed to life. A figure appeared—a simple recording, but it still commanded respect virtually. Authority radiated from the image; respect was demanded instantly.
A sharp beep sounded, and silence fell. The man spoke:
"Through personal investigation, we have gathered evidence of Scientist Shaurya's innocence. He will no longer be interrogated. Headquarters has sent the next project updates and details via Lucas. Review them."
Another beep ended the message.
The orders were absolute. Shaurya was freed immediately; to restrain him further would be open defiance—something no one dared risk.
Everyone swarmed around the files Lucas provided, eager to examine the updates. But Shaurya sat apart, his cold eyes fixed on them. He knew what lay beneath their polite facades—jealousy.
How could a man of natural talent outshine genetically enhanced superiors? The envy they felt was the reason he was suspected, spied upon, and sabotaged.
They were always jealous. When he presented his reports, or when he was busy with other work, they would meddle in it. But when Shaurya was appointed to research this new project, they became even more wary of him.
That was why he chose an old apartment to live in, one with outdated systems he could easily modify for security.
It wasn't about money. Shaurya earned more than he could spend—as both a doctor treating only the wealthy and a scientist working on the Union's special projects. Most of his fortune went elsewhere: nearly 60% of his income funded three orphanages.
As he glared at the "superior" humans before him, Shaurya sighed. Rising from his chair, he pulled on his lab coat and asked Lucas for the files.
Lucas shook his head. "Sorry. Not those. You've been assigned something else."
"New?" Shaurya frowned. "But I'm still working on this project. It's not finished."
"No, no—you're still on this one. But this is a side experiment. Complete it and present the results. They're… difficult. That's why you were chosen. These experiments are the same that lead to the incident of Aresium Breach."
Shaurya froze. The papers in his hand blurred as his mind pulled him back to that night.
Ambulance sirens wailing. His butler standing beside him. Burned bodies being carried away on stretchers.
A severed hand—charred black—slipping from a stretcher. Shaurya's eyes had locked on it, remembering the warmth of his mother's touch, the softness of her hands. Another stretcher passed by. Another burned hand. This one wore a familiar ticking watch.
A single tear slid down his cheek. The watch was the birthday gift he had helped his mother prepare for his father. He still remembered the smile on his father's face when he had received it.
Unconsciously, the boy Shaurya had taken a step forward… then another… then another. His butler noticed, quickly scooping him up and whispering, "It's time to sleep."
But in the butler's arms was not a crying child—he was carrying a boy who understood something. A boy who knew that life ends, that death is nature's law.
Coming back from the memories…
Shaurya nodded in agreement, ready to take on the task.
"OK, so I am alone—"
Lucas stopped him.
"Who told you you're alone? I'm your partner. A new team will arrive tomorrow morning with equipment and other essentials. Until then, wait."
As Lucas turned to leave, he suddenly came back and asked,
"What's your type?"
"Huh? What?" Shaurya blinked, confused by the strange question.
"Oh, come on. You know what I'm talking about," Lucas smirked, playfully bumping his shoulder against Shaurya's.
"No, I seriously don't," Shaurya replied in a puzzled tone.
"Don't tell me you've never dreamed about a girl, never had a crush?"
"I honestly have no clue. And why the hell should I crush a girl?"
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Wait—you're telling me you never had a school-time love? Not even in the academy?"
"Well, if you put it that way—my sync is zero. I never really had the chance to talk with most girls."
Lucas groaned dramatically. "What a waste of such a handsome face. Give it to me—and your hair too. That little ponytail is way too good for you. I bet girls have fallen for you, but you're too dense to notice."
Shaurya sighed. "Alright, I think that's enough useless talk. I'm going home. Since I have nothing to do today, I'll return tomorrow morning."
"Forget morning—the items might arrive at noon. Come then. Until then, I'll set up my new office."
"Fine. Ask me if you need any help," Shaurya said, leaving.
On his way home, Shaurya spotted two figures standing together. He walked closer, realizing one of them was the lady he had met earlier in the morning with her dog.
He approached and greeted her politely. But before he could finish, a stick swung toward him.
Shaurya caught it with one hand and turned—only to see an old woman in a wheelchair glaring at him.
"You scoundrel!" she shouted. "How dare you harass a girl in front of me?"
Shaurya raised his free hand calmly. "Sorry, ma'am, but you might be misunderstanding—"
The old woman squinted at him. "Wait. Aren't you Doctor Shaurya?"
"Yes, I am. But forgive me—I can't seem to recognize you."
"It's not a big problem. I know you're busy."
"Yes, but may I ask who you are?"
"Ah, yes. I'm your patient. I have an appointment with you this Wednesday."
Shaurya's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, now I remember. Miss Scout. Well, fancy meeting you here. Unfortunately, I'm in a bit of a hurry—let's talk later."
He tried to walk away, but Miss Scout raised her hand to stop him.
To be continued…