Chapter 244: Project Lazarus
When Merlin finally rose from the table, the world beyond the window had already sunk into a glittering ocean of night.
The city stretched endlessly below, cars threading through streets like veins of light, the soft murmur of life pulsing through every block.
He should have left. He knew that.
But something about the silence in that dining hall felt deliberate, as if it wasn’t finished speaking.
And then—
The door slid open again.
Not Kael.
A woman stepped in, poised, dark-haired, dressed in a black suit with a small silver emblem pinned to her lapel. Her movements were quiet but precise, like she belonged to the air itself.
"Mr. Everhart," she said smoothly, bowing her head just slightly. "The Chairman requested I deliver something before you leave."
Merlin straightened, his hand unconsciously brushing his coat. "And you are?"
"Arden Vale," she replied. "Chairman Kael’s chief operations officer."
She approached the table, heels silent against the polished floor. From a small black case, she withdrew a single sleek container, matte metal, sealed with a biometric lock and faintly humming with energy.
"He instructed me to give this to you personally," Arden said, placing it gently on the table. "He said you’d know what to do with it."
Merlin eyed the case. "And if I don’t?"
Her eyes flickered, just barely. "Then you’ll learn."
No hesitation. No explanation.
He reached out, fingers grazing the lock. It pulsed faintly at his touch, a thin ring of blue light scanning his fingerprint, then his iris, before clicking open with a soft hiss.
Inside lay a weapon.
But not one like any he’d seen before.
A compact, gleaming device, part handgun, part energy conduit. The surface shimmered faintly with embedded rune-lines, though Merlin quickly realized they weren’t mana inscriptions. These were... scientific. Engineered.
Invoke craftsmanship.
"What is this?" Merlin asked quietly.
"Project Lazarus," Arden said. Her voice held no pride, only precision. "A prototype originally shelved due to instability concerns. Chairman Kael wishes for you to evaluate it, discreetly."
Merlin’s gaze lifted to hers. "Evaluate it how?"
Her expression didn’t change. "However you see fit."
That was it. No context. No manual. Just a weapon and an expectation.
Merlin closed the case, his reflection catching faintly in the metal surface. "And if I refuse?"
Arden regarded him for a long moment. "Then the Chairman will assume you’ve already made your judgment."
Subtle pressure, Kael’s favorite kind.
"...Right," Merlin murmured. "And you? You agree with giving classified prototypes to random shareholders?"
Arden’s lips curved slightly, though not into a smile. "You’re not random, Mr. Everhart. No one who sits at that table is random."
He studied her more carefully. Her composure was impeccable, but there was a sharpness to her, the kind of edge you only found in people who’d seen more than they ever spoke of.
"Tell me something," Merlin said, leaning lightly against the table. "You’ve worked for him long?"
"Long enough," she replied.
"And what’s he really after?"
For the first time, her eyes met his directly. "The same thing everyone in that room wants, Mr. Everhart."
Merlin’s brow furrowed. "Which is?"
Her answer came quiet, nearly lost to the hum of the mana barrier.
"Control."
She turned, straightening her jacket. "Enjoy your evening. And your gift."
Then she was gone, slipping out with the same soundless precision she’d entered.
—
The silence returned, heavier now.
Merlin stood for a long moment, staring at the closed door before finally looking down at the case again.
He unlatched it, fingers tracing the weapon’s surface. It was beautiful in a strange, clinical way, sleek, metallic, with faintly pulsing veins of energy that looked alive.
It hummed faintly beneath his touch. Not like a machine. More like a heartbeat.
’Lazarus...’ he thought. ’A name for resurrection.’
He turned it over in his hand, studying every curve, every port, every unnatural precision in its design.
And then—
[System Notice: Unknown technological construct detected.]
Merlin froze.
[Energy composition: hybrid. Mana signatures present — minimal. Artificial source: unstable resonance with ambient world law.]
[Recommendation: Exercise caution. This device is not native to this world.]
His pulse quickened.
’Not native...?’
He set the weapon back down, chest tight.
’Then Kael—does he know?’
No. That didn’t make sense.
He couldn’t. Not unless—
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. The system’s notifications faded from his vision, and for the first time in a while, the reality of this world pressed close.
Invoke wasn’t just making weapons.
They were reaching beyond.
—
By the time Merlin left the seventy-ninth floor, the tower had quieted. The corridors were dim, washed in the sterile glow of emergency lighting.
As the elevator descended, he caught his reflection in the glass, half-shadow, half-gold. A stranger in a boy’s body.
His hand brushed the case again.
’Lazarus,’ he thought. ’Resurrection. Rebirth.’
Somehow, the name felt too close to home.
When the doors opened to the empty lobby, the night outside had deepened. The city still pulsed with life, neon lights flashing, distant sirens cutting through the hum, but Merlin felt detached from it, as though walking through another simulation.
He stepped into the cool air, the faint scent of rain drifting from the east.
And somewhere above, high in the tower, Adrian Kael watched the boy vanish into the city lights through the panoramic window, wine glass in hand, unreadable.
Arden stood beside him, arms folded.
"You gave it to him," she said quietly.
Kael didn’t look away. "I did."
"He’ll know what it is."
"I’m counting on it."
A beat of silence. The hum of the city below.
Arden’s voice dropped lower. "And if he doesn’t react the way you expect?"
Kael’s lips curved slightly. "Then he’s not who I think he is."
The reflection in the glass shimmered, the Chairman’s face half-lit, half-dark.
"Either way," he murmured, "we’ll find out soon enough."
—
The quiet hum of the city filled the air as Merlin stepped out of the taxi, case in hand.
His apartment windows still glowed faintly, Victoria’s doing.
She’d fallen asleep early, as usual, her textbooks scattered across the couch and a half-empty cup of tea cooling beside her.
Merlin unlocked the door softly, stepping into the dim warmth of home.
The first thing he did was check that she was asleep.
The second, lock the door behind him.
He crossed the living room and set the metallic case on the table, its faint blue line pulsing through the dark like a heartbeat.
For a long moment, he simply stared at it.
Something about this felt... wrong.
Not the kind of wrong that came with risk, the kind that came with familiarity.
’This tech... this pattern...’ he thought. ’It’s not just out of place. It’s impossible.’
He exhaled through his nose and opened the case.
The weapon gleamed in the soft light, catching the faint reflection of his eyes.
He picked it up again, the metal warm to the touch, unnaturally so, like it was alive.
[System Notice: Energy fluctuation detected.]
The air rippled faintly around his fingers as the system continued scanning.
[Core structure: Non-mana based. Synthetic resonance frequency aligned to partial world law interference.]
[Warning: Object mimics system-origin signatures. Source unknown.]
Merlin frowned. "’Mimics system-origin signatures’? What does that even mean...?"