The Mistake

Stein's mind raced. Fear, tension, adrenaline—they were all there, pressing down on him like a vice. The sterile, metallic scent of the lab mixed with the lingering smoke from the explosion, an acrid reminder that his sanctuary had been breached. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered, some shattered from the blast, leaving the room bathed in the eerie crimson glow of Veilith.

The energy pulsed, shifting and writhing in its containment field like a living entity, casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. The reflective steel surfaces around them distorted the light, making the entire room feel like a fractured reality—a place where time itself had unraveled, spilling its secrets into the present. Every monitor, every piece of cutting-edge equipment, every fragile experiment Stein had meticulously worked on over the years was now overshadowed by the men standing before him.

Beneath the oppressive weight of the moment, something else flared to life inside him. Something stronger than fear.

Pride.

Stupid? How dare anyone call this discovery stupid?

Still, he swallowed the insult, forcing himself to stay composed. Focus. This wasn't the time to lose his temper. Not yet. He clenched his fists, feeling his nails dig into his palms, grounding himself in the reality of the situation.

His voice was steady when he spoke.

"What are you talking about, Mr. Francis?"

Francis let out a quiet chuckle, the sound sharp, deliberate, dripping with condescension. The older man stood at the center of his tactical team like a king addressing his subjects. His suit was pristine, untouched by the chaos he had just stepped into. Even the explosion that had torn through the reinforced security door hadn't disturbed a single strand of his silver hair. His sharp eyes, gleaming with something unreadable, never wavered from Stein's.

"Oh, come on, Stein. Don't insult my intelligence." Francis's voice was slow, measured, each word laced with mockery. "Did you really think this was a secret? That we wouldn't know what you and your little assistants were doing here?"

Behind Stein, Alex shifted uneasily, his arms tensed at his sides. Allen took a slow, careful step backward, pressing himself against a nearby terminal as if the cold metal could somehow make him disappear. The air itself had thickened, suffocating in its stillness.

Stein clenched his fists tighter. He wasn't shocked—he knew the kind of people he was dealing with—but it still made his blood boil. Of course, they knew. Of course, they had been watching.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm. Play their game. Stay in control.

"And?" His voice was controlled, measured. But then, the anger cracked through.

"And what exactly do you think is stupid about this?" His frustration cut through the tension like a blade. "This is my life's work—seven years of research, seven years of pushing beyond what anyone thought was possible. Look at this, Francis." He gestured toward the swirling mass of Veilith, his eyes blazing with conviction. "Do you even understand what this means? What we could do with this? We could change the world."

Francis let out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head like he was disappointed in a foolish child. He took a step forward, slow, deliberate, his presence suffocating.

"Stein, Stein, Stein…" he murmured, almost affectionately. "One of the smartest minds of our time, yet too fucking stupid to understand."

Then, in an instant, the smirk vanished.

The calm, sarcastic mask shattered.

His voice exploded with rage.

"Do you really fucking think you were the first?! That you just stumbled onto some great unknown?!" The force of his words vibrated through the air, his breath heavy with something raw, unfiltered. "1969, Stein! Nineteen fucking sixty-nine! Benedict Malac found it first! A madman who discovered the truth of this universe before you were even born!"

Stein's breath caught in his throat.

The name meant nothing to him. Not a single paper, not a single mention in any classified archive. And that was the problem. If Francis was telling the truth, if someone had already uncovered Veilith before, then where was the proof? Where was the legacy of that discovery?

Francis was breathing hard now, his fury palpable. But beneath the anger—beneath the seething frustration—there was something else.

Something far more dangerous.

Fear.

A deep, bone-chilling fear that even his controlled demeanor couldn't fully conceal. His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white as if he were reliving something Stein could not yet fathom.

His voice dropped into a low growl, every word slow and deliberate. "And do you know why you don't know his name? Why no one fucking does? Because we. Stopped. It." His words felt like a death sentence. "We buried it. We erased every trace. We had to."

Francis leaned in closer, his breath slow, controlled, but his eyes burned with something terrifying. "Have you even thought about the fucking consequences? Have you?! Have you stopped to ask yourself why this was hidden? Why it was buried so deep that no one was ever supposed to find it again?"

The room was silent except for the hum of Veilith, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Francis exhaled sharply, steadying himself. He straightened his suit, smoothing out the rage, but the weight in his voice only deepened.

"Stein… your discovery isn't the problem." His voice was cold, his words heavier than steel. "It's what you did after."

His gaze darkened.

"The moment you activated it, the moment you brought it into this fucking world—you set something in motion that could bring doom for us all."

Stein's pulse pounded in his ears. He could feel his heartbeat syncing with the pulsing energy in the air. The crimson glow of Veilith deepened, shifting, twisting, as if responding to the tension, feeding off of it.

A pit formed in his stomach.

Francis wasn't just warning him.

He was telling him.

It had already begun.