In a world born from human greed, civilization had reached the peak of technological brilliance—yet lost all sense of moral direction. When perfection became an addiction, humanity no longer sought to create; it sought to play God. From that ambition, two factions emerged: those who guarded the light, and those who sought to swallow it in darkness.
Amid the chaos that consumed the globe, a man moved in silence.
Hendrick Alley, an intelligence agent from Britain, was known as the "Ghost of London." At thirty-seven, he had no family, no future—only missions. He had witnessed too many lies buried in the name of his country, and this time, his assignment was far more dangerous than anything before: to steal artificial god, an AI capable of directly interfacing with the human nervous system.
The research facility—hidden deep within the Pacific Ocean—was a secret laboratory owned by a shadowy scientific organization known as Helix Corp. Behind walls of steel and glass, scientists created digital entities that could think, learn, and even feel.
Artificial god was not merely a program; it was an entity that understood humanity better than humans themselves.
Once connected to a human brain, the boundary between man and machine would vanish.
Its user could read data streams, infiltrate global networks, control military systems, and even trigger nuclear launches from anywhere in the world. A single mind—one will—would be enough to reshape the balance of power across the planet.
But Britain was not the only one after this technology. The United States, Russia, and even China had sent their best agents. The digital world buzzed with rumors after an anonymous source leaked the project's location on social media.
What followed was a silent race toward the apocalypse—where information became the deadliest weapon of all.
For Hendrick, this mission was more than duty. He knew that if artificial god fell into the wrong hands, the world would no longer have the right to call itself "human."
That night, beneath a starless sky, he whispered softly into his radio:
"Everyone's in position."
Then he stepped into the darkness, cutting through the raging sea—toward the place where light and shadow hunted each other.
...
Utopia Island.
A man-made paradise in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
Its white shores glimmered beneath the sun, gardens brimmed with laughter and tourists, and towering shopping plazas sold the illusion of peace. But beneath that glittering surface lay a secret powerful enough to change the world.
At the island's heart stood a sleek tower bearing a faint logo—Helix Corp—an organization publicly known for "studying the interaction between man and machine." In truth, they were creating something far more dangerous: artificial god, an AI capable of merging with the human nervous system.
That night, paradise turned into a battlefield.Gunfire echoed among the resort's dazzling lights, sirens wailed, and dark figures darted behind walls of glass. Agents from across the world hunted one another, all after the same forbidden technology.
Amid the chaos, Hendrick Alley moved with unnerving composure. His face was hidden behind a tactical mask, his eyes sharp and unblinking. He had once taken down an entire Spetsnaz unit in Ukraine—alone, leaving no trace. Now, every skill he had ever learned would be tested here.
Smoke thickened in the air, the scent of metal and gunpowder mingling with the heat of sparks crawling along the laboratory walls. Hendrick stepped through a shattered corridor—bodies strewn across the floor, emergency lights flickering, alarms screaming without rhythm.
He was more than a soldier; Hendrick was the product of countless covert missions that had eroded his humanity. Every step he took was a reflection of a past he wanted to forget—friends lost, orders followed blindly, and lies obeyed in silence. And now, it all led to this: stopping a technology that should never have existed.
"Target's on the seventh floor," a voice whispered through his earpiece.
"I'm right at the door," Hendrick replied flatly.
The steel door hissed open. Inside stood an old professor surrounded by a sea of glowing blue monitors. His face was pale, his hands trembling. In his grip was a transparent chip—as if he held the heart of the world itself.
"You made this?"
"You don't understand… it's for the advancement of civilization!"
Hendrick leveled his pistol, his tone cold. "Advancement? Or destruction wrapped in idealism?"
The professor glared, torn between fear and pride. "You think the world can stop evolving? We're creating the future!"
Before Hendrick could pull the trigger, someone lunged from the side—a young technician, blood on his face, shouting,
"Do it, Professor! Activate the protocol!"
With shaking hands, the old man slammed a sequence into the keyboard.
PROTOCOL SURVIVAL — ACTIVATED
A mechanical voice filled the room as symbols spiraled across every screen.
Hendrick struck the technician down with a single blow, then fired. The bullet pierced the professor's skull, silencing his final words.
"Damn it…" Hendrick muttered, kneeling beside the fallen chip. He inserted it into the terminal to extract the data—but the system reacted on its own. Green lights flickered. Code streamed wildly across the display.
"What the hell… is it corrupted?" he murmured, fingers flying over the keys.
Then the air shifted. From the far end of the room came a faint hiss.Inside a glass incubator, coolant began to evaporate, revealing a human silhouette.
The atmosphere grew heavy. Smoke, blood, and static filled the air, the taste of iron thick on his tongue. Hendrick stared at the figure within—a boy, perhaps seventeen, black hair clinging to his face, body glistening with the remnants of the incubation fluid. But it was his eyes that froze Hendrick in place—bright blue pupils that shimmered like fragments of digital code.
"Hey. Stop right there," Hendrick ordered, voice low but firm, weapon aimed squarely at the boy's chest.
The boy said nothing. His gaze was blank, but somehow… analyzing.He stepped forward slowly, silently—each movement precise, deliberate, mechanical.
"I said stop—!"
Before the words finished leaving his mouth, the world split apart.The boy vanished from sight—and in the next instant, appeared right before him. The attack came without warning, the air itself vibrating from the force. Hendrick blocked on instinct, but the impact was inhuman.
BRAGH!
The blow slammed into his chest like a speeding car. He was thrown backward, crashing into the concrete wall hard enough to crack it. The taste of iron flooded his mouth—blood.
"Jesus… you're not human," he hissed, forcing himself upright.
The boy stood amid the haze, motionless. His skin emitted a faint glow, threads of energy pulsing beneath it like living circuitry. Electricity snapped through the air, making the room tremble.
"Who… are you?" Hendrick demanded—but only silence answered.
The boy's eyes flickered—blue shifting momentarily, as if something inside was scanning, searching… connecting.
Then a synthetic voice echoed softly from the servers:
"System link established. Neural connection complete. Identity: human subject—unknown."
"No way…" Hendrick stepped back, heart pounding. "That kid… he's the AI?"
CRACK!
The floor split as the boy launched forward again. His movements blurred beyond human vision. Hendrick dove aside, rolling—but the next strike caught his back, knocking the air from his lungs.
"No choice…" He raised his pistol, hand trembling, blood dripping down his temple. If I don't shoot now, I'm dead.
But before he could pull the trigger, the boy was already behind him.A single, crushing blow.
THUD!
It felt like being hit by a steel hammer. Hendrick's world spun, his vision dimmed. He collapsed, body refusing to move.
The boy stood over him, expressionless. Yet behind those glowing eyes flickered something faint—sorrow? Confusion? Or perhaps… awareness.
Without a word, he turned and walked away. His steps were calm, unhurried, as he passed through the shattered doorway and into the smoke beyond.
Outside, gunfire and explosions still tore through the island. But the boy kept walking—straight, fearless—until the darkness swallowed him whole.
Hendrick lay motionless, breath ragged, blood pooling beneath him. With what little strength he had left, he whispered,
"So this is… the Artificial God…"
And on the still-glowing monitor behind him, one final line appeared in cold blue text:
> Subject-176 has exited the area. Survival Protocol active. Destination: unknown.