Part 9 — The Awakening of the Shadow
The blue liquid shot through the needle directly into his carotid artery.
At that exact moment, the world behind his eyes exploded.
It wasn't physical pain, but a wave of boiling heat spreading rapidly through his brain. It felt as if a stone wall inside his head was collapsing with a tremendous crash. Thousands of images, voices, scents, and emotions that had been buried beneath thick layers of artificial memories for thirty years erupted simultaneously.
Elias fell to his knees. The cassette recorder and the grey box slipped from his hands, clattering onto the wet cobblestones of the canal. He convulsed, his hands clawing into the gaps between the paving stones. A choked scream escaped his throat.
Images rushed over him: A luxurious penthouse in Zurich. The scent of expensive cigars and aged whisky. Faces of men trembling before him. Orders he issued in an ice-cold voice—orders of life and death. The cold smile as he ruined competitors. The unquenchable greed for power. That was Viktor Kroll.
And then the transformation: The bright white light of an operating room. The face of a young, stunningly beautiful woman with piercingly cold eyes staring down at him. Anouk. Her voice: “I will erase you, Viktor. I will turn a wolf into a lamb.” The agony of erasure. The step-by-step fading of his empire.
And finally, the last thirty years: The smell of fresh coffee in the morning. Anna's gentle smile. The small joys of life as an accountant. The soft feel of little Julian's hand in his...
The two worlds collided in his consciousness like tectonic plates. Viktor Kroll and Elias Vermeer. The monster and the lamb. They fought for dominance over his mind.
Julian stood there, his weapon still aimed at the kneeling man, watching the transformation with a mixture of fascination and horror. The old man's body didn't change, but his posture and aura shifted in a matter of seconds. His shoulders, bent and narrow moments ago, straightened up. His breathing changed from erratic gasping to a deep, rhythmic, menacing rhythm.
Elias—or the man now awakening inside him—slowly raised his head.
Julian instinctively took a step back.
The man's eyes had changed. The soft, sorrowful gaze of Elias Vermeer was completely gone. In its place burned two ice-cold, predatory pupils that knew no fear, no pity, and no weakness. It was the gaze of a man accustomed to having entire worlds bend to his will.
“Viktor...?” Julian whispered. His voice trembled unmistakably now.
The man on his knees stood up slowly. His movements were no longer those of a fragile fifty-seven-year-old, but fluid and precise. He stared at Julian without blinking.
“You made mistakes, Julian,” the man said. His voice had dropped an octave, deep and imbued with an authority that tolerated no contradiction. It was the voice of Viktor Kroll.
Julian swallowed hard. He tried to maintain control. “Father! I... I did what was necessary! I saved the inheritance! Give me the access data to the Swiss accounts! We can rebuild the organization together!”
Viktor Kroll took a step forward. He completely ignored the gun pointed at his heart.
“Together?” Viktor asked softly, a cruel, smooth smile touching his lips. “You are no leader, Julian. You are a greedy little boy playing with adult weapons. You threatened Anouk. You hunted Elias. And you thought you could use me.”
“I am your son!” Julian shouted, seized by panic. He cocked the hammer of the gun. “I've waited my whole life to know who I am! Give me the codes, or I'll shoot!”
“You won't shoot,” Viktor said with absolute certainty. He stepped right up to the barrel of the weapon until the cold metal touched his chest. “Because you know that with my death, the accounts are locked forever. And because deep down, you know you will never have the strength to kill a monster like me.”
Julian shook uncontrollably. Sweat mixed with the cold rain on his forehead. His finger on the trigger tensed, but he couldn't pull it. The sheer aura of Viktor Kroll crushed his resolve.
At that moment, a vision flashed in Viktor's mind: Little Julian, five years old, running to Elias in tears because he had scraped his knee. Elias comforting him, bandaging the wound, promising him everything would be alright.
A severe wave of pain pierced Viktor's head. The serum had awakened Viktor Kroll—but it hadn't been able to completely erase Elias Vermeer! The memories of love, the emotions of the last thirty years fought desperately against the icy coldness of his original self.
No!, the voice of Elias screamed in his mind. He is our son! You cannot destroy him!
He is a traitor!, the voice of Viktor snapped back. He hunted us! He must be eliminated!
This inner conflict caused Viktor's body to sway briefly. He reached for his temple, his eyes flickering between ice-cold harshness and profound human agony.
Julian noticed the hesitation. He saw the weakness.
“You aren't complete!” Julian yelled. “The serum isn't working properly! You are still infected by that miserable accountant!”
Julian raised the gun and struck the butt of the weapon with full force against Viktor's forehead.
The blow landed hard. Viktor stumbled backward, blood spurting from a gash above his left eye. He lost his footing and plunged over the damp railing of the stone bridge.
With a massive splash, he crashed into the black, icy water of the canal.
Julian rushed to the railing and looked down. The swift current pulled the body beneath the dark surface immediately. Bubbles rose, and then the water smoothed out once more.
Julian stood alone in the rain on the bridge. His weapon trembled in his hand. He looked down at the abandoned grey box and the broken cassette recorder.
He had the box. He had the recorder. But the man who carried the codes in his head—his father, whether named Viktor or Elias—had sunk into the freezing depths of the canal.
Suddenly, sirens echoed through the nearby streets as Dutch police approached. Markus and Elena had notified the authorities.
Julian cursed, snatched up the empty grey box, and sprinted into the darkness of the alley, while the black canal water carried his father's body away toward the sea.
