CEO loves me with all his soul.-Chapter 123. Apex Sector, Underground Citadel

The ceiling lights in the core lab of Facility Prime pulsed with a dim, clinical blue. Dozens of control panels blinked silently, their monitors filled with graphs, simulations, genome sequences, and global air current models. Maps of continents hovered on a giant transparent screen, with swirling animated clouds tracing projected wind movements — each tagged with red points: Deployment Zones.

Doctor Naehr stood at the very center of it all, hands folded behind his back, eyes narrowed at the floating model of the Earth. His long silver hair gleamed like steel under the sterile light, and his black irises—unnaturally still—fixed on a continent like a hawk about to strike.

"Have you finished calculating atmospheric dispersal ratios?" he asked, his voice calm. Too calm.

A subordinate—Dr. Mara Helst, younger and visibly tense—looked up from her console. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and tried to steady her breathing before speaking.

"Yes, Doctor. All simulations match the predicted vectors. If deployed as you requested—via high-altitude weather balloons—within 72 hours, the compound would circulate through the stratosphere. It would take approximately nine to thirteen days for global saturation at low trace exposure levels."

Naehr nodded, seemingly pleased.

"And with that, we can begin our correction."

Helst hesitated. She looked at the data again. "Sir... the compound is still unstable. Test groups have shown only two confirmed survivals out of thirty-six. The mutation variance is unpredictable. In several cases, the genetic sequence collapsed entirely within the subject. Others—"

"Others chose stagnation," Naehr interrupted. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The chill in it was enough to still the air. "They failed because they clung to the old version of humanity. The sick, the impure. This is not about safety, Dr. Helst. This is about selection."

"But Doctor—" Helst took a step forward. "You’re talking about mass exposure. Children. Elderly. Civilians. There’s no way to control who inhales it, who doesn’t. We aren’t ready. We can’t be sure of long-term effects. The genome correction potion is still reactive in the bloodstream after seventy-two hours. We’ve observed psychotic breaks. Cellular destabilization. Tumors."

Naehr finally turned to face her. His expression was almost gentle—but it made her stomach turn.

"You speak as if any of that matters."

Helst blinked, stunned.

Naehr walked toward the floating display of the Earth and raised a hand, brushing his fingertips through the projection. It rippled with motion.

"We stand at the edge of a new species, Mara. Not the next generation of humanity—no. Something better. Something... perfected. And you’re worried about tumors?"

"It’s not about just—tumors," Helst said, voice cracking slightly. "It’s about morality."

"Morality is a story people tell themselves to justify weakness."

There was silence between them, broken only by the soft hum of machines.

Naehr began to pace slowly, speaking with that unsettling softness of a man who saw himself as savior and executioner.

"We live in a world ruled by failing genes. Depression. Violence. Disease. Tribalism. Look at our leaders. Our nations. What have centuries of evolution given us? A dying planet filled with broken minds and fragile bodies. My creation is not just a compound. It is deliverance."

He tapped a button. A 3D rendering of a double helix rotated beside the Earth model.

"Two humans survived full exposure," he said. "Their physiology adapted. They became stronger. Smarter. Beyond emotion. Beyond illness. They changed."

"They changed into something unrecognizable," Helst replied. "They lost empathy. They lost memory coherence. One of them tried to kill themselves two days later."

"Because they were alone," Naehr said, with a smile too tight to be kind. "We won’t let them be. When the whole world is reborn... there will be no more loneliness."

Helst took a shaky breath. "And those who don’t survive?"

"They were not meant to. The weak will fade. The strong will remain. Isn’t that the law of every system, every living being? Survival of the fittest."

She stared at him. "You’re talking about genocide."

"No," Naehr replied coolly. "I’m talking about evolution."

He returned to the console and typed in a command. A countdown timer flickered to life: T-MINUS 96:00:00 UNTIL RELEASE.

Helst’s hands tightened at her sides.

"You’re activating the dispersal protocol?"

"I already have. The compound has been loaded into the high-altitude capsules. Four launch sites. One in the Pacific. One above the Mediterranean. Two across Eurasia. The weather patterns will carry it where it needs to go."

She stepped forward, desperate now. "You don’t have to do this. We can fix the formula. Make it safe. Even if it takes years—"

"We don’t have years," Naehr cut in, his voice suddenly rising. "Every minute we hesitate, the old humanity clings tighter to its madness. Every breath we let them take is another chance they destroy themselves with greed, war, disease. This is the mercy they don’t know they need."

He turned to her with a look that was almost reverent.

"Imagine a world where no one gets sick. Where children are born with perfect intelligence, perfect bodies. Where the violent urge is chemically burned from the mind. No more crime. No more hunger. No more chaos."

He exhaled, and it sounded like ecstasy. "Order. Finally. After all these centuries."

Helst looked down at the data.

At the maps of where the winds would carry it. Cities. Schools. Farms. Shelters. Hospitals.

All marked.

"You’ll kill millions," she whispered.

"I will reshape billions."

"You’re mad."

Doctor Naehr smiled as if she’d complimented him.

"No, my dear. I am enlightened."

The countdown ticked lower behind him.

.

.

The rain poured in thin, steady sheets over the darkened city. Streetlights cast fractured halos in puddles on the concrete as shadows twisted along alley walls. In the industrial district—deserted at this hour save for the occasional truck groaning past—Mala stood beneath a rusted awning, drenched and trembling. She clutched a waterproof data capsule close to her chest like it was her last breath of freedom.

She checked her watch again. Midnight. The time he’d promised to meet her.

Lucas.

No one else knew he was alive. They all thought he’d died—shot down at the police station

Until now.

A distant door creaked open. Mala’s head snapped toward the sound, her grip tightening on the capsule. A silhouette stepped into view, tall and lean, hood drawn over his face. But when the figure reached the flickering streetlight, her breath hitched.

Golden eyes.

It was him.

"Lucas," she whispered.

He didn’t smile, not at first. He scanned the alley with sharp precision, one hand resting near the holster hidden beneath his coat. Only when he was within a few feet of her did the cold intensity melt into a ghost of a smirk.

"Mala," Lucas said quietly. "I was starting to think you wouldn’t show."

"I almost didn’t," she said, her voice shaking. "They’re watching everything. Even the shadows."

Lucas gave a single nod. "Did you bring it?"

She pulled the data capsule from under her jacket and handed it over. Her hand lingered a moment longer than necessary.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢