The word didn't leave Artyom's mind.
Created.
It echoed, sharp and impossible to ignore.
The room felt smaller now. The air heavier.
Artyom stood still, eyes locked on Andrei Morozov.
"Explain," he said.
Andrei didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked past him, activating another screen.
Files opened.
Old. Restricted. Buried deep.
"Decades ago," Andrei began, "before the current power structure stabilized… there were experiments."
Artyom's expression hardened slightly.
"What kind of experiments?"
Andrei's voice remained calm.
"The kind that powerful families pretend never existed."
The screen shifted.
Documents. Medical logs. Genetic codes.
One title stood out:
ORIGIN PROJECT
Artyom's chest tightened.
"They were trying to create something beyond the standard hierarchy," Andrei continued.
"Not just stronger Alphas."
The next file opened.
Rare Omega Classification — Subject Stability Trials
Artyom's fingers curled slowly.
"They wanted control," Andrei said. "Over influence. Over bonding. Over power that couldn't be matched through force alone."
Artyom let out a quiet breath.
"And I'm one of them."
It wasn't a question.
Andrei looked at him.
"Yes."
Silence hit harder than any answer.
Across the city—
In Volkov Tower—
Dmitri stood in front of multiple screens, something new reflecting in his eyes.
"I found it," he said.
The others turned.
Roman stepped forward.
"What did you find?"
Dmitri didn't look away from the data.
"Old records. Hidden under three layers of dead networks."
Mikhail frowned. "Say it clearly."
Dmitri's voice lowered.
"The Origin Project."
The room stilled.
Nikola's eyes narrowed.
"That's not supposed to exist."
Yelena crossed her arms slowly.
"Which means it does."
Viktor didn't speak.
But his attention sharpened.
Roman's expression turned colder.
"Who funded it?"
Dmitri hesitated.
Then—
"Multiple families."
Silence.
"Volkov," Dmitri added.
Roman didn't react.
"Sokolov," he continued.
Still silence.
"And others who no longer exist."
Yelena's voice was quiet.
"They erased themselves."
"Or were erased," Nikola corrected.
Viktor finally spoke.
"And the objective?"
Dmitri pulled up one final line.
"To create a controllable Omega capable of influencing high-dominance Alphas."
The room felt colder.
Viktor's jaw tightened.
"Controllable?"
No one answered.
Back underground—
Artyom stepped closer to the screen.
His own existence laid out like a report.
A subject.
A result.
A success.
"Who did this?" he asked quietly.
Andrei's gaze didn't waver.
"Your father was involved."
The words landed hard.
Artyom shook his head slightly.
"No."
"He didn't create the project," Andrei clarified.
"But he used it."
Artyom's voice dropped.
"And you?"
Silence.
Then—
"I was part of it," Andrei said.
Artyom looked at him.
Not shocked.
Not angry.
Just… processing.
"They needed compatibility," Andrei continued.
"Rare Omega genetics couldn't be forced. They had to be… inherited."
The realization hit slowly.
Dangerously.
Artyom's breath slowed.
"You mean…"
Andrei's voice was steady.
"You were never meant to be ordinary."
Above ground—
In the Sokolov estate—
Sergei stood in his office, staring at an old file he hadn't opened in years.
His reflection looked back at him from the dark glass.
Controlled.
Cold.
Unshaken.
But his grip on the folder said otherwise.
Pavel entered.
"What is it?"
Sergei didn't answer.
Makar stepped closer.
"Is this about Morozov?"
Still nothing.
Nikolai glanced at the file.
Then froze slightly.
"Is that…?"
Sergei closed it immediately.
"You don't need to know."
Pavel frowned.
"We're already involved."
Sergei's voice hardened.
"And that's exactly why you don't ask questions."
Far below—
Artyom stepped back.
Everything felt different now.
Not just his past.
Himself.
"You said I decide," he said.
Andrei nodded.
"Yes."
Artyom's eyes darkened slightly.
"Then I decide this."
A pause.
"I'm not your project."
Silence filled the room.
Not tense.
Not hostile.
Something else.
Andrei watched him carefully.
Then—
"Good," he said quietly.
Because for the first time—
Artyom wasn't reacting.
He was choosing.
Across the city—
Viktor stood alone again, looking out over Veligrad.
Dmitri's words echoed in his mind.
Controllable Omega.
His expression darkened.
"No one controls him," Viktor said quietly.
Not as a thought.
As a decision.
Back underground—
Artyom turned away from the screens.
From the files.
From the past trying to define him.
"What happens next?" he asked.
Andrei's answer was simple.
"Now they come for you."
Above the city—
Snow continued to fall.
But beneath it—
Something far more dangerous had awakened.
Not a weapon.
Not a secret.
A choice.
And every empire was about to collide over it.