Chapter 43 Oblivion Protocol

• Forget the past. Delete the present. Then silence the mind that dares to rebuild it.
• Victor stood in the black chamber labeled Oblivion, fingers moving slowly across a circular panel of living code, no screens, no commands. Just a neural interface — tied to the deepest archive of his corrupted brilliance. Behind him, the final vault hissed open. Inside it: Not a person. Not a weapon. But a machine core pulsing with the hum of extinction.
• “You wanted memory,” he whispered to no one.