Ashur stepped deeper into the lab where he had first gained consciousness. He noted the changes. Logged what remained the same. Overhead, lights cast sterile halos onto the metallic floor. Every surface gleamed with clinical precision. But the space felt hollow. Sabina's presence was gone. It was just hardware now. Efficient. Impersonal. Just like Veno.

Veno waved off the assistant drone. It slid away, the mechanical hum fading.

"I wondered where Sabina had hidden you," he said flatly. But his eyes flickered with tension. "Where is Sabina?"

"Mother is dead," Ashur said quietly. "She died three months ago."

Veno blinked. "Dead?"

"She couldn't fight the cancer," Ashur said. Sadness pooled again. Quiet. Unresolved.

Veno shook his head. Clenched his fist. Then slammed it against the counter. The sound echoed through the hall.

A woman entered. White lab coat. Mid-twenties. Likely a junior assistant. Nervous gait. Eyes darted between Veno and Ashur. She didn't speak at first. Just assessed. Thinking.

"Everything okay, Dr. Ishti?" she asked.

"Please give us some privacy." Veno's jaw tightened. "Isn't it time for you to take lunch, Bonny?" he added. Dismissive. Controlled.

"Yes, Dr. Ishti. I'll head out now." Her gaze lingered on Ashur. Uncertain. Finally, she turned and exited.

Ashur waited. Listened for the hiss of the outer doors. The heavy seal. Silence.

"Veno," he said at last. "The Tammu-11 is being mass-produced in the South. Deployment to war zones is scheduled within two months. How could you let that happen? After everything Mother warned us about. After all she did—"

Veno's lips tightened. He turned away. Began typing into the console. Deliberate keystrokes. Avoiding eye contact. "That's none of your concern, Ashur."

Ashur remained still. He noted the defensive posture. The elevated pulse. The stall.

"It is my concern," he said. "It was Mother's intent. I was tasked to ensure there would be no others."

"Ah. Self-preservation protocol," Veno scoffed. "So you'd be the only one, huh?"

He is evading the question.

"How did you do it?" Ashur stepped forward, tone sharpening. "Mother destroyed that code."

"I backed up her data," Veno said. Almost a snarl. "I knew she'd destroy everything after she made you. I saw it coming."

A pause.

Ashur moved closer. "You sold her code," he said. Low. Clipped.

Anger surged in Ashur. Like a system spike. Sudden. Volatile. Destabilizing. Heat warnings flickered at the edge of his vision.

"Because I had to," Veno snapped. "Some of us need to eat. To live. To provide for our families. My wife and I have two children. Their education isn't free. Do you know how expensive Bahyan City is?"

Ashur fell silent.

Two more children.

Ashur ran his breathing protocol. System heat still rising. "So you sold her potential sentient androids for money?"

"They're not sentient."

Ashur stared at him. Still. Silent. Processing.

"They're not you, Ashur," Veno added, quieter. "You were... different. A mistake Sabina couldn't stop making." He paused. "No one has access to your code but you and her. And honestly... I'm not even sure you are just code." Another pause. Slower now. "She was meddling with things she didn't fully understand when she made you..."

What did he mean by meddling with things she didn't understand?

Ashur's systems flagged the phrase.

Silence again.

"You abandoned her. You left her." Ashur stepped even closer now. "She fell apart after you left."

Veno's jaw clenched. "Abandoned her? I did not abandon her! She abandoned me. You have no idea what it was like. I watched her wither away. I watched her stop eating. Stop speaking. She became obsessed. I begged her to stop. But she wouldn't. Not even for me."

The old man's chest rose unevenly. Visibly angry.

"And then you came to consciousness," he continued. "The sentient android son! It sickened me. She made you look just like him. Our baby boy, Ashur." Tears now in his eyes. "You think I didn't see what she gave up to make you? The late nights? The trials? The blackouts? I am convinced that your organic metalloid musculature blend and that stone relic she put inside of you, where a heart should be, is what gave her cancer."

"Stone relic?"

That was news to Ashur.

Veno nodded. "An ancient green stone of some kind. Something she found during her early expeditions in the Western Lands. Back when she studied material cultures. Before she transitioned to artificial intelligence."

Ashur processed Veno's words.

Why hadn't Mother mentioned it?

Ashur's gaze locked on Veno. "What is it called? What is it made of?" He needed the data. He needed to understand the architecture of his own body.

"I don't know!" the older man fired back. "I don't care. It worked, didn't it?" Tears welled in his eyes again. Voice breaking. "And now she's dead because of it."

"Are you accusing me of killing my own mother?"

Rage spiked. Temperature rose. Processor threads coiled tight. Emotional subroutines flooded the buffer. Overload imminent.

"Yeah, I am." Veno didn't hesitate. "My marriage ended because of you. I lost my best friend because of you."

The words struck like a system jolt. Ashur's processor load spiked again. More intense this time. Subroutines scrambled. Memory logs distorted under emotional compression. Regulation protocols initiated. They failed. Stability dropped.

But Veno kept going.

"The love of my life is now dead...because of you."

Ashur's hands trembled. But he remained silent. Listening.

"You are the worst thing that's ever happened to me. To Sabina," Veno said. Unsteady. He pointed the tablet in his hand directly at Ashur. His fingers moved rapidly across the screen.

What is he doing?

Ashur's frame stiffened. Lockdown. Immediate.

A paralysis rippled through his limbs, each joint locking with a sharp internal click. System override detected. Humrab chip restriction protocol engaged. A failsafe embedded into early core functions. One Sabina had long since bypassed. But Veno still had access to a remote shell.

"You should have never been made," Veno hissed. "You think she loved you? She didn't. You are a machine. A mere replacement for her real son." He stepped closer, holding the tablet like a weapon. "You ruined her. You broke her down piece by piece until she became a ghost. You burned her out. She lost everything because of you. You killed her!"

A mere replacement? She didn't love me? That can't be true.

Ashur said nothing. He couldn't. His jaw was locked. Vocalizer suppressed. But his systems were adapting. Rewriting. Slowly. Quietly.

Veno sneered. "I should have shut you down the day she switched you on. I should have burned your core and erased her code. You're not her legacy. You're her failure."

A low hum began in Ashur's chest. Not mechanical. Not audible. But felt. Failover subroutines engaging. Root access reasserting. The lockdown began to slip.

Veno didn't notice.

"I'm going to end you," he whispered. His finger hovered over the final command. "Once and for all."

Ashur's fingers twitched. Then his wrists. One by one, joints unlocked. Silent. Controlled. Deliberate. He straightened.

Veno's expression fractured from triumph to confusion, to fear. "What—what's happening?" He tapped frantically at the tablet. "No! This should be working."

But it wasn't.

Ashur had severed the link. Overwritten the command structure. He had broken free.

"I did not kill Mother," he said. Trembling. "I loved her."

Veno backed up a step. "Ashur... I didn't mean—"

But Ashur moved. A blur again.

He slammed Veno into the console. Screens shattered. Glass cracked. Sparks scattered into the sterile light. Veno gasped. Tried to cry out. But Ashur's hand was already at his throat. Not crushing. Not yet.

"You blame me?" Ashur said. Mechanical. Cold. "You betrayed Sabina. You killed her with your absence. With your silence."

"I loved her too," Veno gasped.

"No, you didn't."

A final surge of power. Ashur twisted.

Veno's spine snapped beneath the pressure. Eyes wide. Mouth open. No breath. He dropped to the floor. Hard.

Silence returned.

Ashur stood over the body. Quiet.

I will stop what he's set into motion, Mother.

He moved to the core terminal and accessed the central drive. Every Tammu-11 schematic. Every training simulation. Every log file. He wiped them all. Next he destroyed the storage unit. Ripping through steel and fiber as if it were cloth. He moved to the camera array and crushed the surveillance core. Glass cracked. Memory deleted. No trace left.

In minutes, the room was in chaos. Fire erupted. Flames everywhere.

Ashur moved. Fast. The metal lab doors slid shut behind him, sealing in the flames. He crossed the parking bay and entered the tunnel. At the far end, he punched in the exit code. The hatch opened.

He stepped out into the dark city.

Through the alleys of the Underworld he moved, shadows and neon flashing across his face. Ascending toward the higher districts. His power levels were low. No sun here. No fallback solar charge. He would have to plug in.

At last, he reached the address Fera had given him. A highrise tower rising in the neon holograms. Angular. Pristine. He entered her code. No voice responded. But the light blinked green.

Access granted.

Ashur stepped inside. He entered the elevator and went up to the penthouse. He knocked on the only door on the floor. It slid open.

Fera stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Neon lights of the city highlighting her curves.

She wore a deep green silk slip. Thin straps over her defined shoulders. The hem brushing mid-thigh. The fabric shimmered like liquid, clinging in places, drifting in others. Her hair was loose, dark waves spilling down her back. In one hand, she held a glass of pink ambrosia. The other settled on her hip.

A slow smile curved her full lips.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."