Mutants, both the Rippers and the beast, convulsed. Their bodies writhed, the mutagenic fibers tearing apart. Some collapsed, their twisted forms reverting to frail, human bodies, gasping for air. Others, too far gone, disintegrated into ash, the disease finally purged.

He turned to the survivors. “You have a chance now. Take it. Rebuild. Don’t let my sins define you.” He placed a hand on Dr. Malik’s shoulder. “And you—keep your research safe. This serum… it’s too powerful for anyone to hold.”

Dr. Malik approached Chourasiya, her eyes wet with tears. “You… you saved us. But at what cost?”

“Don’t!” shouted Dr. Malik, emerging from the wreckage, her lab coat torn, blood staining her hair. “You’ll kill us all!”

Official reports labeled Chourasiya a terrorist, a criminal mastermind, a rogue scientist. Underground circles called him a , a martyr , a myth . The truth—filtered through layers of propaganda, fear, and reverence—remained hidden, known only to those who had lived through the night of the violet glow.