72 hours until the project begins
Neo-Riga continued to live as if nothing had happened.
The government news service had described yesterday's explosion as a "technical incident at a military facility." Two hours later, dozens of videos showing black smoke rising over the eastern part of the city had already appeared online.
By evening, most of the recordings had disappeared.
Raphael sat in the academy cafeteria, watching one of the few that remained.
The video was short.
Seventeen seconds.
The camera shook. Fire could be seen in the distance. Then something moved across the sky so quickly that only a blurred dark streak remained in the image.
The video ended.
"Well?" Denis asked.
Raphael placed his phone on the table.
"Worst filming I've ever seen."
"I'm talking about the explosion."
"That was bad too."
Denis sighed.
"It's impossible to have a normal conversation with you."
"You've been trying for three years. At some point, that becomes your problem."
Maksim Leshinsky approached the table.
He didn't even sit down.
"I have information."
Raphael looked at Denis.
"The secret clone?"
"Not this time," Maksim replied.
"Shame."
Maksim leaned over the table.
"Twenty-seven soldiers were taken to the hospital after yesterday's explosion."
Denis frowned.
"How do you know?"
"My sister works there."
Raphael's smile disappeared.
"How many dead?"
"Officially, none."
"And unofficially?"
Maksim remained silent for a moment.
"She said an entire floor of the hospital was sealed off. Even the doctors weren't allowed in."
Raphael leaned back in his chair.
Something didn't add up.
If it had simply been an explosion at a military facility, there would have been no reason to seal off an entire hospital floor and erase recordings from the internet.
His phone vibrated.
Raphael looked at the screen.
IMPERIAL CHANCELLERY
Cadet Raphael Ralfs Kastanov.
You are required to report to the Imperial Palace today at 18:00.
Attendance is mandatory.
Denis looked at his face.
"What?"
Raphael stood up.
"Apparently, Father finally remembered he has a son."
The Imperial Palace
At 17:56, Raphael passed through the palace security checkpoint.
He had grown up here.
Yet something felt different today.
There were more guards at the entrances than usual.
Several corridors had been closed.
Twice, he was asked to provide identification.
The second time, Raphael looked at the guard.
"You know who I am?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And you're still asking for identification?"
"Orders."
Raphael handed him the card.
That worried him more than he wanted to admit.
The emperor's son suddenly had restricted access to the building where he had spent most of his childhood.
Eventually, he reached his father's office.
The doors opened.
Artjoms Kastanov stood beside the window.
He was more than two meters tall, and even without his ceremonial uniform, he seemed to occupy more space than most people in the room.
"Sit down."
Raphael sat.
Artjoms remained standing.
"How is the academy?"
Raphael raised an eyebrow.
"You summoned me to the palace to ask about school?"
"Answer me."
"Fine."
"Your grades?"
"You can check them yourself."
Artjoms turned around.
"Raphael."
"Good."
"Vitols says you have problems with discipline."
"Vitols has problems with bad assignments."
For a moment, something resembling a smile appeared on Artjoms's face.
Then it vanished.
"In three days, you will temporarily suspend your studies at the academy."
Raphael stared at him.
"What?"
"A medical program."
"There's nothing wrong with me."
"It isn't treatment."
Raphael slowly stood up.
"Then what is it?"
Artjoms did not answer immediately.
"A state program."
"That means nothing."
"You'll undergo several examinations."
"What kind?"
"The specialists will explain that to you."
Raphael laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"So you summoned me here to tell me that, in three days, some people are going to do something to me that you refuse to explain?"
"Simply put."
"Fantastic."
Raphael headed for the door.
"Raphael."
He stopped.
"It is not a choice."
Silence filled the room.
Raphael turned around.
"Say that again."
Artjoms's voice remained calm.
"Your participation order has already been approved."
"Who approved it?"
Artjoms said nothing.
Raphael understood.
"You."
"Yes."
For several seconds, father and son stared at one another.
"Then at least tell me the name of the project."
Artjoms's expression didn't change.
But the brief silence was enough.
Raphael smiled.
"Prometheus."
Artjoms's gaze sharpened.
"Who told you?"
Raphael didn't answer.
Now he knew Karina hadn't imagined it.
The project existed.
And he was at the center of it.
When Raphael left the office, someone was standing in the corridor.
Kiryuu Aoi.
This time, he could see her more clearly.
Black hair fell past her shoulders. Her dark uniform was different from those worn by Northern Empire officers, and a Japanese military order insignia rested on her chest.
Aoi looked at him.
"Raphael Kastanov."
"Unfortunately."
Her expression didn't change.
"Do you always answer like that?"
"Only when people say my name as if they're reading out an accusation."
Aoi studied him for several seconds.
"Your father is expecting me."
Raphael stepped away from the door.
"Then you have my condolences."
Aoi walked past him.
"Kastanov."
Raphael turned around.
She had stopped.
"If you are offered a choice you do not understand, do not accept it until you know the price."
Raphael frowned.
"Was that advice?"
"No."
Aoi opened the door to the emperor's office.
"A warning."
The door closed.
Raphael remained alone in the corridor.
He stared at it for another few seconds.
"Strange woman."
48 hours until the project begins
The following morning, Raphael did not attend his first class.
He was in the academy archives.
PROJECT PROMETHEUS
Search.
NO RESULTS.
He tried again.
PROMETHEUS
NO RESULTS.
Then:
BIOENGINEERING INSTITUTE
Hundreds of documents appeared.
Most were public.
Some were classified.
Raphael filtered the results to the last five years.
One entry caught his attention.
Biological Adaptation Research Division.
Status:
CLOSED.
Date:
Four years ago.
Raphael opened the document.
ACCESS DENIED.
"Of course."
He looked around.
The archive was empty.
Raphael pulled his Imperial Family identification card from his pocket.
It wasn't intended for use with academy systems.
But he tried it anyway.
IDENTIFICATION...
The screen went dark for a moment.
ACCESS GRANTED.
"That was too easy."
A list of documents opened.
Hundreds of files.
Raphael scrolled through them.
Cellular regeneration.
Acceleration of neural response.
Muscle fiber adaptation.
Thermoregulatory compensation mechanisms.
He stopped.
One file was dated sixteen years ago.
Only a few months before his birth.
Raphael opened it.
Most of the text was redacted.
But one line remained visible.
The Kastanov genetic line displays the required markers.
Raphael stared at the screen.
Then another line appeared.
The primary candidate will be selected after birth.
He was no longer smiling.
The project had not been created a few weeks ago.
It had not even been created a few years ago.
It was older than he was.
Then Raphael saw the document's final entry.
CANDIDATE CONFIRMED
Date: January 26.
His birthday.
Raphael slowly leaned back in his chair.
"What the hell..."
A click sounded behind him.
Raphael turned.
The archive entrance had locked.
The screen in front of him went black.
ACCESS REVOKED.
Then red lights illuminated the room.
A calm female voice came through the speakers.
Unauthorized access to classified information detected.
Raphael stood.
"Of course."
Footsteps sounded beyond the door.
Many of them.
Raphael looked back at the black screen.
For one brief second, text appeared again.
PROJECT "PROMETHEUS"
SUBJECT 01: RAPHAEL RALFS KASTANOV
PROCEDURE RESCHEDULED.
COMMENCEMENT: TODAY.
Raphael's expression froze.
"Today?"
The doors opened.
Six armed members of the Imperial Security Service stood outside.
At their head was Professor Helena Velde.
"Raphael Ralfs Kastanov?"
Raphael looked at the soldiers.
Then at her.
"I have a feeling you already know the answer."
Velde extended her hand.
"Professor Helena Velde. Director of Project Prometheus."
Raphael did not take her hand.
"And if I refuse?"
Velde glanced at the armed soldiers behind her.
Then back at Raphael.
"Then this conversation will become considerably less pleasant."
Raphael remained silent.
A moment later, he walked out of the archive.
The soldiers formed around him.
And for the first time in his life, Raphael understood something he had always taken for granted.
He was the emperor's son.
He had money.
A name.
Status.
Access to almost anything a person in the Northern Empire could possibly want.
But the moment the Empire decided it needed his body...
Raphael did not even have the right to say no.
Project "Prometheus" Underground Complex
The elevator descended for more than a minute.
Raphael watched the floor indicator.
-12
-19
-27
-34
Then the numbers disappeared.
"How deep are we?" he asked.
"Deep enough," Velde replied.
The doors opened.
Beyond them was a white corridor.
Glass.
Metal.
Armored doors.
Laboratories.
Raphael stepped out of the elevator.
The project's emblem was displayed on the wall.
A human figure surrounded by a stylized flame.
Beneath it:
PROMETHEUS
HUMAN ADAPTATION PROGRAM
Raphael stopped.
"Human adaptation?"
Velde stood beside him.
"The human body is remarkably inefficient."
"Very inspiring opening."
"It heals slowly. Its strength is limited. Its reflexes are limited. The brain deliberately restricts muscular output to prevent the body from injuring itself."
She looked at Raphael.
"The purpose of this project is to change those limitations."
Raphael understood.
"You want to create a soldier."
"No."
Velde approached the next door.
It opened.
A medical capsule stood in the center of the room.
More than ten people were working around it.
Raphael stared at it.
Velde finished:
"We want to discover what a human being can become."
Raphael slowly looked at her.
"And why do I get the feeling that, in that sentence, I'm the laboratory rat?"
For the first time, Velde smiled.
"Because you are smarter than your father hoped."
Raphael looked at the capsule.
Above it, a screen displayed:
SUBJECT 01
R. R. KASTANOV
And somewhere beyond the thick observation glass stood Emperor Artjoms Kastanov.
He watched his son.
Raphael had not noticed him yet.
Artjoms said nothing.
Because now there was nothing left to say.
Project "Prometheus" had begun.