Location; Ötztal Alps, Austria – Blackwood's Ancestral Fortress
The howling wind of the Austrian Alps bit through Damien's parka as he adjusted the scope on his thermal binoculars. Nestled within the white-capped ridges below was a forgotten castle—Schloss Eisenrot, once a sanctuary for fleeing nobility, now sealed to the world since 1912.
Nora crouched beside him, the shard drive from Cairo glowing faintly against the storm. "The signal's stronger here. This is where they made the first pact between the founding families."
"You mean the blood vow," Damien corrected. "When Blackwood, El-Masri, O'Connor, Zhang, and Takeda agreed to build the original Nexus skeleton from their collective knowledge and bloodlines."
"And betrayed everyone else to keep control," Nora added grimly.
They descended carefully toward the fortress, its architecture brutal and haunting—stone spires jutted like fangs from the frozen earth. Guards weren't visible, but something told Damien they were being watched.
A massive iron door responded to the shard drive's pulse, sliding open with eerie silence.
Inside, portraits of Blackwood's ancestors stared down from the walls. Some faces Damien recognized—uncles, great-aunts, cousins whose disappearances had long been covered up.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered. "They were here. All of them."
In the grand hall, the echo of their boots bounced off vaulted ceilings. At the far end, a roaring fire cast shadows across a solitary figure seated in a high-backed chair, wrapped in layers of antique fur and velvet.
"Welcome home, Damien Blackwood," the man rasped.
Damien froze. "You're supposed to be dead."
The man rose, cane tapping against the marble. "Augustus Blackwood never dies. We're passed down… like memory. Like vengeance."
It was his great-granduncle, Augustus—the original founder, thought to have perished in 1943 during a Nazi takeover of the Nexus outpost. Yet here he stood, a man preserved through decades of cryonic suspension and illegal biotech.
"You brought the El-Masri girl," Augustus said, eyes narrowing at Nora. "Perfect. The circle is almost complete."
"You betrayed your allies," Nora said coldly. "Stole their legacies. Killed their kin."
"I preserved them," Augustus snapped. "Only the worthy bloodlines survived. The rest… diluted. Corrupted. We kept the genes pure. And now… you, Damien, are the final vessel."
Damien's fists clenched. "You think I'll continue your psychotic legacy?"
"No," Augustus said. "You'll destroy the others. You'll carry our blood into a new empire."
The walls trembled as hydraulic gates locked them in. Holograms flickered to life around the room, revealing DNA matrices, combat simulations, and files detailing Damien's lineage.
Augustus turned. "Your sister, Elara, refused me. So did your cousin Dominic. I ended them."
Damien's breath caught.
"You murdered Elara?" he growled.
Augustus smiled cruelly. "She was strong, but sentimental."
Nora stepped forward. "He'll never become you. We'll burn every trace of what you built."
Augustus raised a hand—and the floor opened beneath them. They fell into darkness, landing in a chamber filled with cryo-pods—each holding Blackwood family members, alive but comatose.
"Pick one," Augustus' voice echoed from above. "Survive, or join them."
As red lights flickered, a pod opened across the room—and Damien stared in shock. Standing within, pale and weak, was his younger brother—Silas—missing since childhood.
"Damien?" Silas whispered.
Then the alarms blared.