Kalen looked at Markus and felt an unfamiliar discomfort — not fear, but an instinctive wariness of a kindred spirit. Markus, like him, wasn't normal. Markus was a man without normal emotions — or rather, a man who treated emotions as tools.
"What do you want?" Kalen asked.
"I want an opponent. Someone who can make me feel… excited. Your father used to be that person. Too bad he's dead. Now you're the only one who might be."
"You want me to be your opponent?"
Markus shook his head. "No. I want you to be my ally. Because only an ally, when they betray you… is truly interesting."
Kalen stood up. "I refuse."
Markus didn't move. "What are you refusing? Cooperation?"
"Cooperation. I see no trust in you. I only see a madman who thinks he's a god."
Markus laughed. "You're right. I am a madman. But what about you? You have three relics in your body, you've devoured monsters, you're wanted globally. How much more normal do you think you are than me?"
Kalen didn't answer. He turned and walked toward the door.
"You'll come back. Because you need me. Only I can help you find the remaining relics. Only I can help you deal with Winters. Only I… can tell you what your father's real research result was."
Kalen stopped, but didn't turn around. "What research result?"
"Your father didn't just create you. He also created a… back door. A 'switch' that can control all relics. That switch is somewhere, waiting to be activated. If you can find it, you can control every relic holder. Including Winters's people."
Kalen turned and looked at Markus. "Where's the switch?"
Markus smiled. "That's the first step of cooperation. You ask me a question, I answer. Then I ask you a question, you answer. Equivalent exchange."
"…What do you want to ask?"
"Do you love Cecilia Winters?"
Kalen's body went rigid.
"You know she's Thomas Winters's daughter. You know her father killed your father. And yet you still love her. Or… you think you do."
"That's none of your business."
"It is my business. Because if you love her, you have a weakness. And I don't like working with people who have weaknesses."
"Everyone has weaknesses."
"I don't."
Kalen looked into Markus's eyes — those blue eyes held no warmth, no emotion, only a pure, rational light. He wasn't lying. He truly had no weaknesses.
"…You're a monster," Kalen said.
"I am. So are you. So we should work together."
A ten‑second silence.
"…Where's the switch?" Kalen finally asked.
"At the bottom of the Bermuda Triangle. In the last surface structure. That's the source of all relics — the 'Heart of the Gods.' Your father set up a device there that can control the frequency of every relic."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been there."
Kalen's pupils contracted.
"Not in the flesh. In consciousness. The Eye of Truth lets me 'see' anywhere — as long as I know the coordinates. I saw the undersea structure, I saw your father's device, I saw… the Heart of the Gods."
"Then why didn't you take it yourself?"
"Because the Heart of the Gods is sealed. Only someone with the God‑Eater Spine can open the seal. In other words, only you."
Markus stood up, walked to Kalen, and extended his hand. "So, Kalen Wester, we are destined to work together. Not because I want to, and not because you want to. Because we have to."
Kalen looked at Markus's outstretched hand and was silent for five seconds. Then he took it. "Cooperation. But one condition — don't try to betray me. Otherwise, I'll devour you."
Markus smiled. "Same to you."
Night. In the guest room of Markus's villa, Kalen sat alone on the bed. The room was large, with a private bathroom and balcony. The garden outside the window was quiet and beautiful in the moonlight.
He took out the USB drive and plugged it into the laptop. He opened the encrypted data file — the password was Cecilia's birthday. A complex interface appeared on the screen — a world map, marked with the locations of all surface structures, along with the relic types, monster ranks, and difficulty ratings for each.
He zoomed in on Europe. There were six structures — one in Germany (controlled by the European Union), one in France (controlled by the French Community), one in Britain (controlled by the British Kingdom), and three in no‑man's‑land. His gaze settled on a structure deep in the Alps. The annotation read: "Relic type: Thunderwrath. Monster rank: A. Difficulty: High."
He looked at his own status — God‑Eater Spine (S‑rank, growing), Thornheart (B‑rank), Insight Pupil (A‑rank). He needed more relics. The structure in the Alps was his next target.
He was about to close the laptop when a message box popped up in the corner of the screen — an encrypted channel known only to him and Harro. The message was from Lena.
"Kalen, Beardy's in trouble. The Feds grabbed him. They're interrogating him, trying to find out where you are. Beardy hasn't said anything, but they won't stop. You need to come back."
Kalen's fingers hovered over the keyboard, motionless. His Eye of Truth activated automatically, showing him branches of "possibility" — if he went back to save Beardy, he'd be caught or killed by the Feds. If he didn't go back, Beardy would be tortured to death, and his conscience would carry that burden forever.
He closed his eyes. "…Beardy, I'm sorry."
He didn't reply. He shut down the laptop, unplugged the drive, and lay down on the bed.
On the ceiling was a crystal chandelier, refracting tiny points of light in the moonlight. He stared at those points and remembered what Bearded Jack had said in the rainforest camp: "Power won't get you what you want."
What did he want? He wanted to protect the people he loved. But the more he protected, the more he lost.
He turned over and buried his face in the pillow. The pillow smelled faintly of lavender — the scent of hotel laundry detergent. In the darkness, he heard the God‑Eater Spine whispering. That ancient voice, again this time clearer, more like a specific command: "…Devour… evolve… become god… protect…"
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "…Shut up."
The voice faded. But the hunger remained.