High above the bustling lights of the capital, far removed from the mundane concerns of Jorgen City, sat the Citadel. It was a spire of white stone and reinforced steel that seemed to pierce the very clouds, serving as the headquarters for the Impulse Oversight Committee—better known to the world as the Council.
Inside the Inner Chamber, the air was silent and cold. Five figures sat in a semi-circle of elevated obsidian thrones. They didn't need lamps; the ambient glow of their combined Impulse—ranging from deep Purple to shimmering Light—illuminated the room in an ethereal, shifting haze.
In the center of the floor, projected via a holographic plate, was the recorded feed from Sentinel Vance's visor.
The council watched in grim silence as the "brats" dismantled a Rare-tier Sentinel. They watched Adam shatter the Prismatic Aegis with a touch. They watched Eve collapse a light-bridge with a flick of his wrist.
The recording cut to black the moment Adam looked into the camera and said: "You call us subjects?"
"Play the final diagnostic again," a voice commanded. It was a woman's voice, sharp and cold as a winter morning. This was High Councilor Valerius, a woman who had reached the Pinnacle of Light Impulse years ago and had the scars to prove it.
The diagnostic screen flickered to life. It didn't show the fight; it showed the energy readings.
"Look at the oscillation," another Councilor remarked, leaning forward. He was a man with skin like weathered bronze, representing the Red and Purple Dark Impulse factions. "The boy in the lead—the one called Adam. That isn't a Dark Impulse signature. Not purely. It's... inverted. It has the frequency of a Divine Light user but the density of a Black-tier void."
"It's a paradox," Valerius whispered, her eyes narrowing. "Kwame didn't just hide for thirty-six years. He was breeding a new physics. He has combined the impulses."
A heavy silence followed. In the world of the Council, the separation of Light and Dark was the foundation of their power. It was the law of nature. To have someone—especially children—who could wield both was not just a scientific breakthrough. It was an existential threat.
"Vance is currently in the medical wing," a junior analyst reported from the shadows of the room. "His core hasn't recovered. He's... he's terrified, sirs. He claims the air around them felt 'wrong.' Like it was trying to unmake him."
"Vance was always a technician, not a warrior," the bronze-skinned Councilor spat. "But his failure has given us what we needed. We now know that Kwame's 'masterpieces' are active. And we know they are heading toward the coast."
Valerius stood up. Her white robes shimmered with a faint, Golden hue. "The Doctor thinks he is protecting his children. He thinks he is a father. He is a fool. He has released two apex predators into a world of sheep."
"What is the order, High Councilor?"
Valerius looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the city below—millions of people, millions of tiny Blue and Red impulses flickering like candle flames in the dark.
"If these hybrids are allowed to mature, the Council becomes obsolete," she said, her voice dropping to a terrifying calm. "We cannot send another single Sentinel. They are just fuel for the boys' egos. We need someone who doesn't care about 'ethics' or 'arrests.'"
"You aren't suggesting him?" The bronze Councilor's voice held a rare note of fear.
"I am," Valerius replied. "Contact the Exile. Tell him the Doctor has returned. And tell him that the 'samples' he's been hunting for the last decade are finally ripe for the harvest."
She turned back to the holographic image of Adam's face—the calm, logical eyes that saw human life as nothing but debris.
"Adam and Eve," she murmured, a cruel smile touching her lips. "Let's see how they handle the Original Sin."