The silence stretched.
One of the board representatives finally spoke, cautious yet impatient."So," he said, gesturing toward the screen where the man floated inside the glass tank, "what exactly is the role of that subject?"
Rose didn't turn to look at the screen.
Her gaze remained fixed on them—like a vengeful wolf whose prey had been snatched from her jaws. Whatever her reasons, her answer came slowly.
"That," she said, spreading her arms theatrically, "is the answer to a question you have been funding for decades."
A pause followed.
It was irritating. The researcher was a consummate drama queen, milking every moment for presence and aura. Had she not chosen science, she might have thrived as an actor. But they knew better than to rush her—she would never reveal the core so easily.
"You demanded resurrection," she continued."And you demanded supremacy."
She raised her hand. The screen shifted—schematics, timelines, and classified headers flashing in rapid succession.
"Project Phoenix," she said. "Resurrection from death. The experiment has passed through countless phases—failures, corrections, refinements. At present, we are investigating the feasibility of preserving and transplanting human memory from deceased specimens into cloned bodies. We will discuss its finer points later."
Another gesture.
"The Super Soldier Initiative. A concept once dismissed as fiction. Enhanced physiology, accelerated cognition, absolute battlefield dominance. We have already provided drugs that mimic these traits—temporarily and imperfectly. What we seek now is adaptability. A human body that can be weaponized for sustained warfare."
Murmurs of approval rippled through the chamber.
"These projects were conducted in parallel for efficiency," she went on. "In reality, they bled resources while chasing separate ends."
She folded her hands.
"So I propose we merge them."
The words settled heavily in the air.
"Project X," she said."One subject. One process. One outcome."
This time, the murmurs were unmistakably excited.
A sponsor leaned forward."You're suggesting resurrection and enhancement—together?"
"Yes," Rose replied smoothly. "With reduced redundancy."
Then she tilted her head.
"However," she added, "despite the size of your cumulative investment, the actual annual allocation is… negligible."
The room stiffened.They all knew what was coming.
She didn't hesitate.
"To achieve satisfactory results," she said calmly, "we require a tenfold increase."
The backlash was immediate.
"That's absurd—""You're asking for blind escalation—""Even Synthetica Prima doesn't—"
"Before you decide," she interrupted, voice steady,"I suggest you watch."
She spoke a single name.
"Alex."
In the operating chamber, a duplicate of the AI stepped into view. Scientists moved immediately, parting as a stretcher was wheeled forward.
On it lay a corpse.
It was male—one eye scarred, a muscular frame, his body covered in a white sheet.
The moment the camera focused on the face, the general stood up abruptly.
"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice low but shaking. "That body was cleared for burial."
The professor turned toward him.
"And yet here it is," she said slyly. "Weren't you searching for the man who killed your favorite ace?"
Marcus flared as he turned toward the center.
"Julius, I won't tolerate this. No matter how valuable she is to the organization, I won't allow my fallen men to be desecrated. What precedent does this set?"
Julius looked at him and waved a hand, signaling him to sit.
"Relax, Marcus. The presentation isn't over yet. Let her finish what she wants to say."
Marcus huffed and sat back down.
Rose gave a sly smile and gestured toward the glass tank behind her, where the living subject floated.
"I present to you the clone of Riku Hayashi," she said. "Also known as the infamous Phantom. The one responsible for dismantling your facilities. Slaughtering your operatives. The nightmare that cost this organization dearly—and of course, the killer of that dead weight."
Her tone shifted, filled with the dramatic grief of a lover.
"As for the real body… it died before it could have the chance to become my specimen."
A tear might have escaped during her performance, but none of that mattered. The revelation of his presence—and his death—struck the meeting hall like thunder.
The general's face hardened instantly at the mention of that cursed name.
"…Phantom."
A wave of murmurs erupted.
"Impossible, he killed—""Didn't he died years ago—""Wait! He actually died?""He was never identified—"
The professor nodded once.
"Yes," she said simply, returning to her professional tone."He's dead. And we will be using his clone."
She let the words sink in.
The general's composure fractured.
"Then why is he here?" he demanded. "Why isn't he in the ground where he belongs?"
Before she could answer—
The hologram seated at the center chair moved.
"Enough," said the leader of Synthetica Prima, Julius.
The room fell silent instantly.
He looked at the professor.
"Stick to the agenda. You are wasting our precious time with your games."
She scoffed, rolled her eyes slightly, adjusted her spectacles, and continued.
"Of course."
She turned back toward the operating chamber.
"Harvest the neural chip."
A flicker of hesitation passed across several faces.
The European businessman leaned back.
"The chip's function is enhancement and deterrence," he said. "Post-mortem extraction was never disclosed."
"Because it wasn't meant to be earlier," Julius interrupted firmly."Proceed."
It was clear that whatever was about to be executed had already been briefed to him beforehand. With his permission already granted, any further doubt or complaint would be unwise.
In the operating chamber, a surgical drill descended.
Bone cracked. Blood spilled. Gray matter surfaced. No one looked away—everyone present had their own share of blood on their hands.
The chip was extracted, placed into a cartridge-like cassette, and inserted into a towering computational core.
The screen lit up.
A life unfolded in accelerated fragments—memories of implantation, training, missions, and victories.
Then it slowed.
A corridor appeared, engulfed in flames.
A brutal blade fight followed. Steel flashed. And in the final frame, a face twisted with rage appeared, thrusting the blade forward—before everything faded into darkness.
The room was stunned by the death scene. Many instinctively compared the face to the one still lying unconscious in the glass tank.
They were identical.
Sweat traced down the Stinger Corps leader's temple.
For the first time, everyone understood.
Their minds were not merely enhanced.
They were owned.
The professor stepped forward once more.
"For decades," she said, "we chased immortality through memory… or resurrection through flesh."
She reached into her coat and removed a small glass tube closed, the size of a vial.
Inside it, a tentacle-like organism writhed, its delicate tendrils dissolving into the fluid.
"This," she said,"was discovered beneath Arctic ice."
Julius's expression twitched.
"Technology preserves memory," the professor continued softly."But biology…"
She lifted the tube.
"Transfers consciousness."
The room erupted.
"Wait—does this mean we're about to witness consciousness transfer?""Holy hell… so the dead soldier will be revived in that jerk's body?""Doesn't that mean we won't lose anyone precious anymore?""Damn it, Rose, you really pulled big this time."
And for the first time since the meeting began—
Even Augustus joined in. "Now I see why you didn't object, Julius."
Marcus nodded. "Well, if he can be revived… then I suppose it's acceptable."
Julius smiled faintly."Indeed. Interesting..."
It was a massive leap in their research.
And for the first time—
Even the gods in the chamber had lost control.