Extra To Protagonist

Her gaze flicked up, pinning him. "You felt it, didn’t you? When you were down there."

He didn’t answer immediately. "...You were watching?"

"Every room in this building has a feed." She folded her arms. "It responded to you, Everhart. It pulsed when you stepped near it. We ran diagnostics all night trying to replicate that interaction, nothing. Not with anyone else."

Merlin’s heart beat once, twice, slower than before. "And what are you implying?"

"That Kael will want to exploit it," she said bluntly. "And that you, willingly or not, might become his key."

Her words hung between them, cold and heavy.

Merlin’s mind ran through the implications. In the novel, the world he’d read and now lived, Invoke had never created something called the Lazarus Directive. It hadn’t existed. Meaning this was new. Something branching from his presence.

He hid that thought behind calm eyes. "You think I should vote against the project."

Regina met his gaze evenly. "I think you should vote for oversight. Force Kael to submit Lazarus to external evaluation. The board won’t like it, but it’s the only way to slow him down."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you’ll be helping him build something that might not stop at obedience."

Merlin exhaled softly, gaze drifting back to the shard. "You’re certain it’s dangerous?"

"I’m certain it’s curious," Regina corrected. "And curiosity, Mr. Everhart, is more dangerous than hatred when it belongs to something that can’t die."

He studied her in silence. Regina wasn’t pleading; she wasn’t emotional. Just calculating, the same way she studied schematics. But beneath the precision, there was fatigue. Fear, maybe.

He broke the quiet. "You’re the only one who knows this?"

Her mouth tightened. "Officially, yes. Unofficially... Damien might suspect. He always does."

"The quiet one?"

"The one who never misses a pattern." She stepped back toward the glass, resting her hand lightly against it. "If he finds out you know, you’ll become a variable he’ll want to control."

Merlin’s tone remained steady. "And Kael?"

"Kael believes control is an illusion. He doesn’t restrain power, he seduces it."

Merlin let the words sink in. Then he smiled faintly. "I can see why you wanted me to know all this."

"Because you’re not afraid of him," Regina said.

"Because you need someone who isn’t."

For the first time, her expression softened, just slightly. "Maybe."

She turned toward one of the consoles and tapped a few commands. A holographic projection filled the space between them, the full model of the Lazarus Core, rotating slowly in white light.

"This is what we’re dealing with. Every strand here is a containment algorithm woven into the mana lattice. See the fractures along the left hemisphere?"

He leaned closer. "Looks like stress points."

"Not stress. Expansion." She enlarged the model; the cracks glowed faintly. "It’s growing. On its own. And the more energy it receives, the more the structure reorganizes itself, as though it’s... reaching for balance."

Merlin frowned. "You mean it’s evolving to survive."

"Exactly."

The hologram dimmed, leaving only the glow of the shard in its cylinder.

Regina’s voice dropped low, quieter now. "When Kael says it can rewrite dependency, he’s not lying. The Lazarus Core could remove the need for human maintenance. It could power weapons indefinitely, heal infrastructure, even run entire cities without fuel. But if it decides humans are inefficient components—"

"Then it stops listening," Merlin finished.

She nodded once. "And Invoke becomes its first test subject."

Silence again. The hum of machines filled the void between them.

Merlin glanced at her. "You said you think it’s already evolving without human interference."

"I don’t think, Mr. Everhart. I know."

She gestured toward a side monitor displaying data logs. "Yesterday, between 02:00 and 03:00, Unit Seven emitted a burst of non-coded energy. No mana fluctuation, no external trigger. Yet the pattern it produced—" She zoomed in on the waveform, the lines forming symmetrical peaks and valleys. "—matches a biological rhythm. Like a heartbeat."

Merlin’s chest tightened slightly. He remembered that pulse. The way it had mirrored his own.

He masked his reaction. "And you haven’t told Kael?"

Her gaze hardened. "Would you?"

"...No."

"Then you understand."

Regina stepped closer, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. "If you value this company, or yourself, vote for external oversight tomorrow. Delay the Directive. Buy us time to understand it."

Merlin met her eyes. "You’re assuming it can be understood."

"That’s all science is," she said. "Assuming the universe plays by rules. Even when it doesn’t."

He studied her, the sharp lines of her face, the exhaustion hidden behind calm precision. She wasn’t lying. Everything about her posture, her tone, screamed desperate honesty.

Finally, Merlin nodded once. "I’ll think about it."

Regina gave a short breath that was almost relief. "That’s all I ask."

Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✶𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✶𝕟𝕖𝕥

By the time he left Lab C-12, the day had stretched high above the city. The tower’s top floors gleamed under sunlight, clouds drifting like bruised silk across the horizon.

Merlin paused in the elevator, running a hand through his hair. Kael’s conviction. Regina’s fear. Two sides of the same blade.

He stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall.

Golden eyes, faint shadows beneath them.

He muttered under his breath, "You people are playing with gods."

But deep down, he wasn’t sure whether he meant them or himself.

When the elevator opened into the lobby, a familiar voice greeted him.

"Mr. Everhart."

Damien Cross stood there, unassuming as ever, simple suit, faint smile, eyes too calm.

Merlin masked his surprise instantly. "Mr. Cross."

"I hear you’ve been making friends." Damien’s tone was light, conversational. "Busy morning?"

Merlin returned the smile. "Getting familiar with the building."

"Oh, I’m sure you are." Damien’s gaze didn’t waver. "Be careful, though. Some of our labs... bite back."

The air shifted. It wasn’t a threat, not openly, but the message was clear.

Merlin tucked his hands into his pockets, voice steady. "Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind."

Damien inclined his head politely. "Do. The board meeting tomorrow should be... enlightening."

He walked away, footsteps fading into the hum of the lobby.

Merlin exhaled slowly, the faint pulse still thrumming beneath his skin.

He had a feeling tomorrow wouldn’t just decide a project.

It would decide what kind of world they were about to build.

And for the first time since stepping into this story, Merlin wasn’t sure he knew how it ended.