The game had just taken a very dangerous, very physical turn. Mark Kross's frantic screams, echoing down the pristine corridors of his former empire, still vibrated in my ears. He swore he'd come for me, with his bare hands. That primal, animalistic rage was a stark contrast to the sterile, calculated war I had waged, but it was no less real.
I left the Kross Systems tower in the late afternoon, the London sky a bruised purple over the City. The bustling streets, once a symbol of my insignificance, now felt like a stage I commanded. Anya's security team, a silent, watchful perimeter, escorted me to a discreet Black Mirror vehicle. The hum of Aegis Prime, a reassuring thrum beneath the waves, was a constant in my mind, a reminder of the true fortress I commanded. But even an impenetrable d
