Odin slammed his fist violently into the ground, creating a huge dent in the alloy floor. "Bastard! That son of a bitch!" he roared in fury, golden energy once again escaping uncontrollably from him, but this time, filled with unstable, savage energy.

I looked at him coldly. "Anger won't solve problems. Your power is now just a bomb that could explode at any moment."


"Then what do you suggest?" He turned his head, glaring at me with slightly reddened eyes, "Aren't you the calculating one? Aren't you the almighty 'Typhon'? Now, continue with your plan!"

I ignored his roaring. I closed my eyes, forcing my chaotic brain to start functioning again. Despite being full of insults, Drake's words revealed a crucial piece of information—he wouldn't make his move until an hour later.

Why? Why not kill us immediately?


The only explanation was that he couldn't. Or rather, he didn't dare. There was something in this laboratory that made him hesitant to enter without being fully prepared.

What was it? Was it Odin, who had lost control and was weakened? No, he was clearly pleased to see Odin lose his power. Then... was it me? No, in his eyes I was just an ordinary mortal.


So, there was only one truth.

I suddenly opened my eyes and directed my gaze toward the place we had never entered—the Class A Sample Repository.

"Follow me," I commanded Odin.

He was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting me to speak to him in such an unquestionable tone. But ultimately, he silently followed behind me.

I walked up to the alloy doors of the sample repository. The combination lock on the door had already been destroyed in the earlier chaos. Using all my strength, I barely managed to pull the heavy door open just enough to create a gap.

A cold draft, mixed with the smell of formaldehyde and time, surged out from the gap in the door.

Behind the door was an enormous, majestic circular hall resembling a memorial hall. In the center of the hall stood dozens of massive glass life-support pods glowing with an eerie blue light. Each pod contained a submerged, blurry human form.

They were the failed "gods" manufactured in the early days of the "Genesis Group."

And my gaze, looking past these failed specimens, locked firmly on the deepest part of the hall, on that solitary life support pod glowing with golden light, resembling an imperial throne.

Floating inside it was a man identical to the one in my memory—the "Founder."

No, that's not right.

I immediately noticed something unusual. All the data indicators on that life support pod displayed "Vital signs stable," while the label on the other side was showing "Subject in activation process."

He's still alive? And about to awaken?

No, that's impossible. I saw with my own eyes...

Just then, Odin also spotted that life support pod. His body reacted more violently than mine. He let out a painful growl, his golden eyes filled with struggle and disgust.

"He's here too..." he muttered.

"That's not him." I suddenly spoke up, my voice incredibly firm. My brain at this moment was working at an unprecedented speed, connecting all the clues. "That's just a clone. A perfect but genetically controlled 'shell' without a soul. This is why Drake didn't come in. His real goal wasn't to kill you, Odin... he was buying time trying to activate this shell, so that he could transfer your 'consciousness,' your 'soul,' into this most perfect body that belongs to the 'Creator'!"

"Then erase me, turning me into another version of him..." For the first time, true fear appeared in Odin's eyes.

"And I," I looked at those failed experimental specimens and sneered, "probably just played the perfect 'catalyst,' pushing you successfully to the edge of breakdown, making you more susceptible to his mental manipulation."

We had all become Drake's pawns.

"I will never let him succeed!" Odin roared, about to charge forward to destroy the life pod.

"Stop! Do you think he hasn't prepared for this?" I shouted sternly, "If you go over there now, you'll only trigger the self-destruct program of this repository, and we'll all die here!"

"So we just wait here to die?!"

"No," I looked at him, my eyes flashing with a kind of mad and desperate light he had never seen before, "We turn it around and use his plan against him."

I walked to the main console, my fingers moving rapidly across it. The system language on it was the internal code of Thorne Industries that I knew by heart. Drake, or rather the "Genesis Group," had destroyed my family through the power of "God" more than a decade ago, and seized my family's technology.

"Drake wants a weak, mentally broken you. So let's give him that." I said, "I'm going to temporarily redirect the energy supply in this area, and then, using the equipment here, force the 'God Spectrum Serum' in your body to another critical point of loss of control. This critical point might cause your mind to break down, but in reality, it will allow you to enter a 'pseudo-loss of control' state where you can unleash unprecedented power all at once."

Odin looked at me in shock. "You... are insane? Doing that might cause me, already weakened, to completely lose control for real and turn into a monster that only knows how to kill!"

"You have no choice left." I looked at him, emphasizing each word, "Either trust me, an enemy who was just... by you. Or wait to become Drake's puppet. Which do you choose?"

Time was ticking away, second by second.

Odin's chest heaved violently as he faced the most difficult decision of his life.

Finally, he closed his eyes and let out a long breath, as if using all his strength. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because," I turned my head, his disheveled figure reflected in my lens-like pupils, "my name is Evelyn Thorne. The man who killed my parents is your 'biological father.' When it comes to destroying the 'Genesis Group,' no one is more professional than I am."

This was the first time I revealed my background, my hatred, to him.

Odin suddenly opened his eyes, looking at me in shock. At this moment, all the clues finally pieced together in his mind, forming a complete and cruel picture.

He looked at me for a long while, then let out a self-mocking, mournful bitter laugh.