Mara’s heart pounded. The breach wasn’t just a theft; it was a crack —a fissure in the very trust the institute placed in its own security.
Varga shrugged. “Because they think it’s a gift for humanity. But they don’t understand the balance. The serum is a precise symphony; change a single note and you get discord.”
The lab smelled of ozone and sterilized steel. Varga stood before a glass cylinder, a faint blue glow emanating from its core—the of Serum 1.35B7, still in its dormant state.