The Patriarch

The Sokolov armory hummed with subtle energy, each weapon and artifact emanating its own distinctive resonance. Glass display cases lined the walls, containing everything from ornate daggers to ancient firearms modified with arcane attachments. At the center of the room stood a circular table etched with intricate symbols that pulsed with gentle blue light.

"We don't have time for a proper orientation," Anya said, moving swiftly to a cabinet at the far end. "But you need something more effective than that pistol."

Mikhail holstered his Makarov, eyes scanning the collection. "These are all Contract-enhanced weapons?"

"Contract-compatible," she corrected, unlocking the cabinet with a palm scan. "They don't possess Contracts themselves, but they're designed to channel and amplify the user's Contract energy."

She removed a pair of matte black tactical gloves and tossed them to Mikhail. "Void-resonant material. They'll reduce the energy drain when you shadow step and improve your exit precision."

Mikhail slipped them on, feeling an immediate connection to his Contract. The mark on his wrist pulsed, sending tendrils of cold energy up his arm that dissipated into a pleasant numbness.

"Better," he acknowledged, flexing his fingers. The gloves fit perfectly, as if custom-made.

"Now for offensive options." Anya selected a slender combat knife with a blade that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. "Void-forged steel. It can cut through most Contract defenses, especially Spectral and Ethereal types."

The handle felt cool against Mikhail's palm, the weight perfectly balanced. When he channeled a small amount of Contract energy into it, the blade's edges blurred slightly, as if existing in multiple places simultaneously.

A distant explosion rocked the compound again, followed by the staccato sound of gunfire.

"Standard security forces engaging," Anya said, checking her earpiece. "They'll slow the Covenant, but not stop them." She turned back to the cabinet, removing what appeared to be a standard tactical vest. "Put this on. It contains specialized shielding against Blood and Ethereal resonance attacks."

Mikhail donned the vest, noting how light it felt despite its apparent protection capabilities. "What about the second Contract card?"

Anya paused, her expression calculating. "Most users wait months between activations to allow proper integration. Using two Contracts without training carries significant risks."

"We don't have months," Mikhail replied, removing the Lunar Echo card from his pocket. Its surface was cool to the touch, the symbol of a bisected crescent moon seeming to glow with internal light. "What's the activation process?"

Anya's amber eyes narrowed. "The same as your first, but the second binding is more painful. Your system will resist the foreign resonance." She checked a digital display on the wall showing security camera feeds. Multiple corridors were filled with smoke, shadowy figures moving through the haze. "We have three minutes at most."

Mikhail studied the card, weighing options. The Void Walker abilities gave him mobility, but limited offensive capabilities. A distraction technique would provide tactical advantages against multiple opponents.

"I'll do it now," he decided, tracing the moon symbol with his fingertip.

Unlike the gradual response of his first Contract, this card reacted immediately to his touch. It sliced into his finger with surgical precision, drawing a perfect circle of blood that hovered above the card's surface before sinking into the symbol.

Pain lanced through Mikhail's skull—not the deep, burning sensation of the Void Walker activation, but a sharp, fracturing feeling, as if his thoughts were being pulled apart and reassembled. His vision split momentarily, showing the room from multiple angles simultaneously.

*Compatibility assessment: 64%. Resonance type: Spectral. Domain: Replication. Binding level: C-rank.*

The voice in his mind sounded different from his first Contract—higher, more frenetic, with an undercurrent of barely restrained excitement.

*Blood price accepted. Initial binding established. Contract terms: Accessible.*

The card dissolved into silvery mist that coiled around Mikhail's left wrist before sinking beneath the skin. A new mark formed—the crescent and line symbol appearing on his left inner wrist, a counterpart to the Void Walker mark on his right.

Mikhail gasped as the pain subsided, replaced by a strange doubling of his spatial awareness. He could sense his own presence as if from outside his body, a peculiar echo of consciousness.

"Still with us?" Anya asked, her voice cutting through the disorientation.

Mikhail nodded, forcing his perception back to normal. "It's... different. Like having an additional set of senses that overlap with my primary ones."

"Spectral resonance affects perception more directly than Void types." Anya handed him a belt of small metal spheres that resembled grenades. "Echo charges. They'll amplify your duplicate's stability and duration."

She turned toward the door, head tilting as she listened to her earpiece. "They've breached the west quadrant. Father and Dmitri are falling back to the central chamber." Her expression hardened. "They're after the Family archives."

"What's in the archives that's worth this level of assault?"

"Blood records. Contract histories. Binding formulas." Anya checked her dagger, then retrieved a second blade that curved like a serpent. "The Covenant believes our family possesses the secret to permanent transcendence—evolution beyond the limitations of Contract binding."

The security display flickered, showing three figures in crimson tactical gear moving down the corridor toward the armory. Their movements were too fluid to be human, bodies contorting in ways that suggested significant physical modifications from their Contracts.

"Time to test your new acquisitions," Anya said, moving to the door. "Follow my lead, stay in the shadows when possible, and if I tell you to run, you run. No hesitation."

Mikhail activated the Void Walker Contract, feeling the cool rush of power through his veins. With the enhanced gloves, the energy drain seemed minimal, controlled.

"Ready," he confirmed, the knife humming softly in his grip.

Anya keyed a sequence into the door panel. "Remember—Covenant users fight like zealots. They believe death in service to their cause guarantees ascension. They won't retreat, and they won't surrender."

The door slid open, revealing a smoke-filled corridor. Emergency lights cast red shadows that danced and shifted with the smoke's movement. Ideal conditions for shadow manipulation.

They moved into the hallway, Anya taking point with predatory grace. Mikhail followed, keeping close to the wall where the shadows were deepest. His enhanced perception mapped multiple shadow pathways, potential jump points if retreat became necessary.

The first Covenant operative appeared from a side corridor—a tall figure whose body seemed to be covered in metallic scales that caught the red emergency lighting. In his hands, he wielded twin short swords that dripped with something dark and viscous.

"Venom Scales," Anya identified in a whisper. "B-Rank Mechanical-Blood hybrid. His blades secrete Contract-enhanced toxins that disable other Contract users."

Before Mikhail could respond, the operative spotted them. His face, partially visible beneath a scaled helm, contorted into a fanatic's smile.

"Sokolov spawn," he hissed, voice modulated through what sounded like mechanical filters. "The Harvest calls for your blood."

He charged with inhuman speed, his body a blur of metallic reflections. Anya met the attack head-on, her daggers creating a defensive perimeter that kept the poisoned blades at bay.

"Circle behind him!" she called to Mikhail, parrying a thrust that would have opened her throat.

Mikhail didn't waste time with conventional movement. He reached for the shadow cast by a support beam, pulling himself into the void-space. The transition was smoother this time, his perception of the in-between dimension sharper, more defined. He could sense the connections between shadows, choosing the optimal emergence point behind the Covenant operative.

He stepped out of darkness directly behind the attacker, void-enhanced knife aimed for the unprotected spot where neck met skull. The blade connected, slicing through scales that would have repelled ordinary weapons.

The operative howled, whirling to face Mikhail with reptilian quickness. One poisoned blade slashed toward Mikhail's chest, while the other kept Anya at bay.

This was the moment to test the Lunar Echo.

Mikhail activated his second Contract, channeling energy through the mark on his left wrist. The strange doubling sensation intensified, and then—separation. A perfect duplicate of himself formed from silvery mist, standing two meters to his right. The copy wasn't solid, its form translucent and slightly blurred, but it moved with the same combat stance Mikhail had adopted.

The operative's eyes widened in confusion, his attack faltering as he tried to determine which target was real.

That split second of hesitation was all Anya needed. She lunged forward, her crimson dagger finding the gap in the scales that Mikhail's attack had created. The blade sank deep, and the operative's body convulsed, scales retracting into his flesh as the Contract's energy dissipated.

"Efficient," Anya commented, withdrawing her weapon. "Your Echo is unstable, but functional. It won't last more than thirty seconds in that form."

Mikhail felt the drain from maintaining the duplicate—a steady pull on his energy that was manageable but noticeable. The echo mimicked his movements with a slight delay, creating an unsettling visual effect.

"I can feel its time limit," he acknowledged. "Like a countdown in my mind."

The duplicate dissolved into mist that briefly swirled around Mikhail before dissipating. He felt a momentary disorientation as the fractured perception reintegrated with his primary consciousness.

"More incoming," Anya warned, gesturing down the corridor where two more figures approached through the smoke. "We need to reach the central chamber. Father will need reinforcement."

They moved swiftly through the compound, encountering pockets of resistance—syndicate security forces exchanging fire with Covenant operatives. The regular guards, lacking Contracts, relied on specialized ammunition that disrupted Contract resonance fields. Effective, but not decisive against higher-rank users.

Mikhail and Anya skirted the main confrontations, using service corridors and maintenance tunnels to make progress toward the central chamber. His Void Walker abilities proved invaluable for reconnaissance, allowing him to step through shadows to scout ahead before returning to guide their advance.

"Your control is improving," Anya noted after he returned from his third scouting jump. "Most new users can't maintain directional focus through multiple transitions."

"It feels... natural," Mikhail admitted. "As if I've done this before."

Anya gave him a measuring look. "Contract affinity is partially genetic. Your father was a Void specialist, from what I've heard."

Before Mikhail could press for more information about his father, they reached the anteroom to the central chamber—a circular space with a domed ceiling covered in intricate frescoes depicting what appeared to be Contract histories. At the center stood massive double doors of polished bronze, etched with the Sokolov family crest.

The doors stood partially open, and from within came the sounds of combat—not gunfire, but the distinctive energy discharges of Contract warfare.

"Father," Anya murmured, her composed demeanor cracking slightly to reveal genuine concern. She increased her pace, moving toward the doors with purpose.

Mikhail followed, observing the complex shadow networks that converged around the central chamber. Something about this room served as a focal point for resonance energy—a nexus for Contract power.

They slipped through the doors to find a scene of controlled chaos.

The central chamber was an architectural marvel—a perfect circle with a vaulted ceiling supported by twelve marble columns. Between the columns stood display cases containing ancient artifacts similar to those Mikhail had collected from Lebedev. At the chamber's center, a circular platform rose half a meter from the floor, inscribed with concentric rings of arcane symbols.

On this platform, Viktor Sokolov stood facing three Covenant operatives. His elegant suit was torn at the shoulder, revealing a network of golden lines that pulsed beneath his skin—the visible manifestation of his Crimson Thread Contract at full activation.

Dmitri fought nearby against two more attackers, his body periodically transforming into living metal that deflected their blows. His Contract—Steel Communion, Mikhail recalled—allowed him partial metallization as a defensive measure.

"About time," Dmitri called upon seeing them, his voice distorted by his partially transformed state. "The archives are compromised!"

Viktor didn't acknowledge their arrival, his focus absolute as he wove complex patterns in the air with his fingers. With each movement, golden threads materialized, seeking to entangle his opponents. One Covenant operative was already bound in a cocoon of these threads, struggling futilely against constraints that tightened with each movement.

The remaining attackers pressed their advantage, recognizing the Patriarch's dangerous abilities. One—a woman whose body appeared to be composed of living smoke—flowed around Viktor's threads with fluid grace. The other—a hulking figure whose skin cracked with volcanic heat—launched concentrated fire blasts that Viktor barely deflected.

"Dmitri, secure the eastern access!" Viktor commanded, his voice steady despite the exertion evident on his face. "Anya, the archive vault. NOW!"

Anya hesitated only momentarily before moving toward an alcove half-hidden behind one of the marble columns. "Mikhail, with me!"

Mikhail assessed the tactical situation in an instant. Viktor was holding his own but wouldn't last indefinitely against multiple attackers. Dmitri was overextended, his Contract visibly draining him as patches of skin reverted from metal to flesh between transformations.

Decision made, Mikhail activated both Contracts simultaneously. The strain was immediate—a pressure behind his eyes that threatened to split his skull—but manageable. The Void Walker and Lunar Echo resonances clashed briefly before finding an uneasy equilibrium.

Three echoes formed around him, silvery duplicates that moved with more solidity than his first attempt. Simultaneously, he mapped the shadow network of the chamber, identifying optimal transit points.

"Cover the Patriarch," he instructed his duplicates, directing them toward Viktor's position. The echoes moved with purpose, creating confusion among the Covenant attackers who couldn't distinguish the spectral duplicates from the original.

Mikhail then stepped into shadow, emerging behind the smoke-form attacker. His void-enhanced knife passed through her insubstantial body with minimal effect, but the disruption of her form bought Viktor precious seconds to reinforce his golden threads.

The volcanic attacker roared in frustration, redirecting a fire blast toward one of Mikhail's duplicates. The echo absorbed the attack before dissolving, the feedback sending a spike of pain through Mikhail's temple.

He staggered, momentarily disoriented by the echo's destruction. The sensation was visceral—as if a piece of his consciousness had been burned away.

"Feedback shock," Viktor called to him, recognition in his eyes. "Disengage the Echo Contract until you learn to buffer!"

Mikhail gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain. Rather than deactivating the Echo, he reformed the lost duplicate, channeling more energy into its stability. The remaining two echoes harried the Covenant operatives, moving in patterns that complemented Viktor's thread attacks.

"Mikhail!" Anya's sharp voice cut through his concentration. "The vault!"

He shadow-stepped to her position at the alcove, finding her working on an ancient-looking lock mechanism. Beyond, a heavy vault door stood partially open, revealing rows of glass containers filled with what appeared to be blood samples.

"Guard this entrance," she instructed, slipping inside. "No one enters except Father or myself."

Mikhail positioned himself at the vault doorway, maintaining awareness of his duplicates still assisting Viktor. The strain of coordinating multiple actions across divided consciousness was intense but exhilarating—like exercising a muscle he never knew existed.

From his vantage point, he watched as Viktor finally gained the upper hand. The Patriarch's golden threads multiplied exponentially, weaving into a complex three-dimensional pattern that trapped the smoke-form attacker in a golden cage. Each time she attempted to flow through the constraints, the threads tightened further, condensing her gaseous form into increasingly solid matter.

"Yield," Viktor commanded, his voice resonating with Contract power. "Your Harvest will find no sustenance here."

The volcanic attacker, seeing his companion captured, roared with religious fervor. "For the Ascension!" He charged Viktor directly, body erupting into a pillar of living flame.

Mikhail reacted instinctively. He recalled his remaining echoes, shadow-stepped to Viktor's position, and redeployed all three duplicates in a defensive formation. The echoes absorbed the brunt of the fire attack, each dissolution sending fresh waves of pain through Mikhail's consciousness.

Viktor used the opportunity to extend his golden threads, entangling the attacker's legs and halting his charge mere meters from their position. The threads burned on contact with the volcanic skin but multiplied faster than they could be consumed.

"Impressive adaptation," Viktor commented to Mikhail, not taking his eyes off the struggling attacker. "You have your father's instincts."

Before Mikhail could respond, a new figure entered through the main doors—taller than the other Covenant operatives, wearing not the standard crimson tactical gear but an elegant black coat that reached his ankles. His face was hidden behind a mask of polished bone that covered the upper half of his features.

Even from a distance, Mikhail felt the power emanating from this newcomer—a resonance that made the air thick and heavy, like the pressure before a storm.

"Patriarch Sokolov," the figure said, his voice soft yet carrying effortlessly across the chamber. "It's been too long."

Viktor's expression hardened, the golden lines beneath his skin pulsing brighter. "Harvest Director Lazarus. Still hiding behind your masks and minions, I see."

Lazarus stepped further into the chamber, seemingly unconcerned with the combat still raging around them. Dmitri had subdued one of his opponents but was locked in desperate struggle with the second—a whip-thin woman whose fingers had elongated into needle-like protrusions that sought the gaps in his metallic defenses.

"I prefer to think of it as delegation," Lazarus replied, removing his gloves with methodical precision. His exposed hands were covered in intricate scarification patterns that formed Contract symbols—dozens of them, layered over every visible inch of skin. "But some matters warrant personal attention."

Viktor's eyes narrowed. "The blood archives are secure. Your efforts here are wasted."

"Perhaps." Lazarus smiled, the expression visible beneath the half-mask. "Or perhaps we've already acquired what we came for." His gaze shifted to Mikhail, assessing. "A new Sokolov asset? No... something more interesting. Dual Contract activation within twenty-four hours. Impressive synchronicity."

Mikhail felt the weight of that gaze like a physical pressure—an invasive scanning sensation that probed at his Contract marks. He reinforced his mental barriers instinctively, the Void Walker resonance creating a dark shroud around his consciousness.

"Stay back, Director," Viktor warned, gathering his golden threads into an offensive configuration. "Your welcome here expired decades ago."

Lazarus sighed, a sound of theatrical disappointment. "Always the patriarch, Viktor. So concerned with protecting your little dynasty that you've lost sight of the greater evolution." He extended one scarified hand, and the air around it rippled with distortion. "The Covenant offered partnership once. Now we simply take what we need."

A pulse of energy erupted from Lazarus's palm—not directed at Viktor, but at the vault behind Mikhail. The energy wave passed through intervening space as if it weren't there, striking the vault door with concussive force.

Mikhail was thrown aside, his concentration shattering. The remaining echo dissolved as he hit one of the marble columns hard enough to crack the stone. Pain lanced through his ribs, and his vision blurred momentarily.

When it cleared, he saw Lazarus advancing toward the vault, Viktor struggling to intercept him while maintaining his threads on the captured operatives. Dmitri was down, his Contract deactivated, body returning to fully human form as blood pooled beneath him.

Inside the vault, Anya stood protectively before a central pedestal on which rested a single artifact—a Contract card unlike any Mikhail had seen, its surface shimmering with prismatic energy.

"The Progenitor," Lazarus said, satisfaction evident in his voice. "The origin point of all Sokolov Contracts. I knew Viktor wouldn't trust it to conventional security."

Mikhail struggled to his feet, ribs protesting with every movement. He activated the Void Walker Contract, pulling shadows around himself like armor. The cool energy numbed his pain, allowing him to focus through the injury.

Viktor had engaged Lazarus directly now, golden threads meeting scarified hands in a clash of Contract energies that sent shockwaves through the chamber. The Patriarch's power was impressive, but Lazarus moved with the confidence of someone holding considerable power in reserve.

Mikhail assessed options with cold clarity. Direct confrontation with the Harvest Director was suicide. Viktor was buying time, nothing more. The priority was securing whatever this "Progenitor" artifact was and ensuring Anya's safety.

He shadow-stepped into the vault, emerging beside Anya. "We need to go," he said, eyeing the artifact on the pedestal. "Viktor can't hold him indefinitely."

Anya's amber eyes flashed with anger. "We can't abandon the Progenitor. It's the foundation of our family's power—a direct link to the first Contract entities that crossed the dimensional threshold."

Outside, Viktor was faltering. Lazarus had severed several golden threads with precise gestures, each broken connection visibly weakening the Patriarch.

"Your father ordered me to get you out if the inner sanctum was breached," Mikhail reminded her. "This qualifies."

Anya's expression hardened with resolve. She removed an amulet from around her neck—a small golden disk engraved with the Sokolov crest—and pressed it against the artifact card. The card adhered to the amulet's surface, its prismatic energy seeming to flow into the gold.

"The tunnels," she confirmed, securing the amulet inside her jacket. "But we'll need a distraction to reach the access point."

Mikhail nodded, forcing his injured body to cooperate. He activated both Contracts again, ignoring the warning pressure in his skull. Five echoes formed this time—more than he'd attempted previously, each one draining his reserves significantly.

"On my signal," he told Anya, directing the echoes to spread throughout the chamber. "Stay in my shadow—literal shadow. Don't separate from me."

She nodded, moving to stand directly behind him, close enough that their shadows merged on the floor. Mikhail took a deep breath, focusing on a shadow pathway that led to a service door on the far side of the chamber.

"Viktor!" he called. "Time to honor family traditions!"

The Patriarch glanced their way, understanding flashing in his eyes. With a final surge of effort, he released all his captured opponents at once, redirecting the entirety of his golden threads toward Lazarus in a binding cage that momentarily immobilized the Harvest Director.

Simultaneously, Mikhail's echoes attacked the freed Covenant operatives, creating maximum chaos. Under this cover, he pulled Anya into the shadow realm, transporting them both through the void-space to the service door.

The doubled weight and extended distance strained his Contract to its limits. The void-space, usually cold and weightless, felt viscous and resistant, like moving through tar. Mikhail pushed through by sheer force of will, focusing on the exit point with absolute determination.

They emerged stumbling, Mikhail's legs buckling as the drain hit him fully. Anya caught him before he could fall, her strength surprising for her slender frame.

"This way," she urged, supporting him down a narrow corridor that sloped downward into darkness. "The old escape tunnels connect to the Moscow catacombs."

Behind them, the sounds of combat intensified, followed by an explosion that shook dust from the ceiling. Viktor was ensuring their escape window remained open.

As they descended into the tunnel network, navigating by the soft glow of ancient emergency lights, Mikhail felt his Contracts pulling back to dormancy. The marks on his wrists pulsed with dull pain, the price of overexertion.

"Will Viktor follow?" he asked, each word an effort through exhaustion.

Anya's face remained impassive, but her voice held tightly controlled emotion. "My father knew the risks when he gave you the second Contract. He's buying us time."

The implication was clear. Viktor Sokolov didn't expect to survive this encounter.

"Why?" Mikhail pressed. "Why trust me with this? I'm an enforcer, not family."

Anya stopped at a junction in the tunnels, checking their position against some internal map. "You're more connected to our family than you realize, Mikhail Volkov. My father recognized your potential from the moment your Contract activated." She touched the amulet beneath her jacket. "The Progenitor responds to bloodlines. It recognized you too."

Before Mikhail could demand clarification, a final, massive explosion rocked the tunnels, sending cascades of debris raining down around them. The shockwave knocked them both forward, and Mikhail's vision swam with encroaching darkness.

As consciousness faded, he felt the strange doubling sensation of the Lunar Echo Contract activating independently, attempting to create a duplicate to maintain awareness while his primary consciousness failed.

His last coherent thought was a question: *What am I becoming?*

The darkness claimed him before any answer could form.