The Underground had never felt this quiet.
Not peaceful.
Not calm.
Quiet like something waiting.
Artyom stood in the center of the training floor, sleeves rolled, breath steady.
Across from him, three men lay on the ground.
Not unconscious.
But unable to move.
They had underestimated him.
Everyone did.
Andrei Morozov watched from above, hands behind his back.
"He adapts fast," one of his commanders said.
Andrei didn't respond immediately.
"He was forced to," he said finally.
Below—
Artyom wiped the blood from his lip.
"Again," he said.
The men hesitated.
Not because they were tired.
Because they were starting to understand.
This wasn't just an omega.
This was something else.
"Enough."
The voice cut through the room.
Artyom turned.
Andrei walked down slowly, each step controlled.
"You're not here to prove strength," he said.
"Then what am I here for?" Artyom asked.
Andrei stopped in front of him.
"To learn control."
Silence.
"Strength without control is predictable," Andrei continued.
"And predictable things… die first."
Artyom held his gaze.
"I'm not planning to die."
Andrei's expression didn't change.
"Good."
Across the city—
Volkov Tower stood untouched by the chaos.
Inside—
Viktor sat at the head of the strategy table.
For the first time—
Roman wasn't speaking.
He was watching.
Dmitri brought up a new file.
"Financial leak traced," he said. "Morozov didn't hide it."
Mikhail frowned. "He wants credit?"
"No," Dmitri replied calmly. "He wants reaction."
Nikola leaned forward slightly.
"He's pulling Sokolov out of position."
Yelena's eyes narrowed.
"And us?"
Silence.
Viktor finally spoke.
"We're already in position."
Roman's gaze shifted to him.
"And what position is that?"
Viktor didn't hesitate.
"Close enough to strike."
Back at the Sokolov estate—
Sergei stood in the dark, the city lights reflecting faintly behind him.
Pavel entered without knocking.
"Partners are pulling out," he said.
Makar followed.
"They're scared."
Sergei's voice was cold.
"They're weak."
Nikolai stepped in last.
"And Artyom?"
That name changed the room.
Sergei didn't turn.
"Where is he?"
"Room's empty," Nikolai said quietly.
Silence.
Then—
Sergei turned.
For the first time—
There was something dangerous in his eyes.
"Find him."
Far below—
Artyom sat alone in a dim room, a screen glowing in front of him.
Files.
Names.
Histories.
Everything Andrei had built.
"Look closely," Andrei said from behind him.
Artyom didn't turn.
"I am."
"These are the men who decide the world," Andrei continued.
"Politicians. Generals. Syndicates."
Artyom's eyes moved across the data.
"And you control them?"
Andrei's answer was simple.
"I influence them."
Artyom let out a quiet breath.
"That sounds worse."
For the first time—
Andrei almost smiled.
A new file appeared on the screen.
Sokolov Empire.
Artyom's expression stilled.
"Why show me this?" he asked.
Andrei stepped closer.
"Because you're part of it."
"I don't want to be."
"That doesn't change reality."
Artyom's jaw tightened.
"They never wanted me."
Andrei's voice lowered.
"That's why they're dangerous."
Silence filled the room.
Then—
"And Volkov?" Artyom asked.
Andrei didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he pulled up another file.
Volkov Empire.
Viktor's image appeared.
Cold. Controlled. Untouchable.
Artyom looked at it longer than he should have.
"He's not like them," Artyom said quietly.
Andrei noticed.
"That's what makes him more dangerous."
Above ground—
Snow continued to fall over Veligrad.
On a rooftop—
Viktor stood alone.
Wind cutting through the silence.
Nikola stepped out behind him.
"You felt it too," Nikola said.
Viktor didn't turn.
"Yes."
"Morozov moved something important."
Viktor's eyes darkened.
"Not something."
A pause.
"Someone."
Back underground—
Artyom stood again, facing Andrei.
"You said I decide," he said.
"Yes."
"Then I want truth."
Andrei's gaze sharpened slightly.
"You're not ready for all of it."
Artyom didn't step back.
"Then give me enough."
Silence stretched.
Then—
Andrei spoke.
"Your existence isn't an accident."
Artyom's heart slowed.
"What does that mean?"
Andrei's voice was calm.
"Rare omegas aren't born randomly."
The words hit harder than expected.
"They're created."
The room felt smaller.
Colder.
More dangerous.
Artyom's voice dropped.
"Created… by who?"
Andrei's eyes didn't leave his.
"That," he said quietly,
"is the war you were born into."
Far above—
Viktor looked out over the city.
Something was shifting.
Something bigger than territory.
Bigger than power.
And for the first time—
He realized this wasn't just about empires.
It was about Artyom.
And whatever he was becoming.