Location: Tavara – Northern Glacium Range
The snow crunched beneath Victor's boots as the trio made their way up the jagged slopes of Glacium. The Dominion's core had been destroyed—but the pulse Nora detected just before its collapse pointed here, to the last known satellite station built by the first generation of Dominion founders.
This wasn't a military base or tech facility. No... it was older, hidden in the spines of the mountain where most assumed only wolves and ghosts roamed. The wind howled like an ancient wail, carrying whispers only Victor seemed to hear.
Damien scanned the icy ridge. "Sensors picking up bio-energy patterns. Not natural. Not human."
Victor exhaled. "Then we're not too late."
Ahead, buried in snow and ice, stood a metallic arch covered in thick moss, its surface cracked and worn. The Dominion crest had been almost rubbed away—but its outline remained, like a forgotten god refusing to be erased from memory.
As they stepped through the arch, the earth trembled beneath them.
The slope gave way, revealing a massive underground corridor that spiraled deep into the belly of the mountain. Nora raised her hand, igniting a controlled blue flame, lighting their path.
What they found inside made all three freeze.
Rows upon rows of cryogenic chambers lined the walls—thousands of them. Inside each pod, a sleeping form: men, women, even children. But their DNA... it wasn't pure. Victor could feel it.
"Clones," Damien confirmed grimly. "A backup civilization."
"They wanted to reboot the world," Nora whispered. "On their terms. If they failed to control it, they'd simply replace it."
Victor clenched his fists. "They didn't just plan for domination—they planned for extinction and resurrection."
Suddenly, the chamber lights shifted from blue to red.
Intrusion detected. Final Protocol Activation. Subject: Victor Kane.
A blast door slammed behind them. Above, a hidden speaker crackled.
"You've come far, heir of Kane. But your blood was always meant for something greater."
A pod in the center opened. A figure stepped out.
Tall. Clad in ceremonial robes.
Eyes identical to Victor's.
The voice came again—but now it was from the figure.
"Welcome home, Son. I am the Prototype. Your father's design... perfected."
Victor stared. He wasn't looking at a brother.
He was looking at a blueprint of himself—without weakness. Without mercy.
Damien drew his blade. Nora stepped forward, aura rising.
But Victor raised a hand, stopping them.
"This one's mine."
The figure smiled. "As it was always meant to be."
And the mountain watched in silence as the Kane legacy prepared to face itself—past versus present, prototype versus heir.