Agnus.
According to the information Noel had gathered inside the prison, he was not just one of the strongest villains to ever exist—he was a legend.
His name was synonymous with death and destruction, a dark shadow that loomed over history.
Villains and heroes alike had fallen before his might, their stories of valor or malice ending abruptly in his wake, snuffed out like candles before a gale.
But Noel knew the darker truth about Agnus. Project Epoch.
The scientists had hailed him as their masterpiece, the crowning jewel of their twisted experiments.
The greatest weapon ever created by those damn scientists, born from their insatiable hunger for power and control.
The thought of it made Noel’s blood boil, a seething fury that threatened to consume him.
Noel had stumbled upon this revelation during one of his desperate searches in David's lab.
He had scoured every corner, opened every drawer, and sifted through countless documents.
It was in a classified locker, hidden away and heavily secured, that he found the damning information.
The file was thick, filled with reports, charts, and photographs detailing every horrific step of Agnus's creation.
Each page was a testament to the scientists' depravity.
There were reports of excruciating experiments, descriptions of unimaginable pain inflicted in the name of progress.
Photographs showed Agnus at various stages of his transformation, each more monstrous than the last.
The cold, clinical language of the reports did nothing to mask the sheer horror of what had been done.
Noel's mind raced as he recalled the details he had uncovered about Agnus.
The classified file had not only detailed the experiments but also painted a haunting picture of the man Agnus used to be.
Before he became a weapon, Agnus was just a man—a normal, unawakened officer with an extraordinary physique.
His life had been simple, filled with the quiet joys of family and duty.
Agnus had a wife and a daughter, the anchors of his existence.
They were his world, his reason for everything.
He had been happy and content, his days filled with the mundane yet precious moments of family life.
The sound of his daughter's laughter, the warmth of his wife's embrace—these were the things that had given his life meaning.
He had cherished those moments, savoring the tranquility of a life unmarked by the chaos that would later consume him.
But fate had been cruel.
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Agnus was chosen as one of the initial test subjects for Project Epoch.
His unusual strength and resilience made him a prime candidate for the scientists' twisted ambitions.
They didn’t ask for his consent; they took his family as hostages, leaving him with no choice but to comply.
The image of his wife and daughter, terrified and helpless, had haunted him throughout the torturous experiments.
The transformation was brutal.
They tore apart his humanity, piece by piece, replacing it with something monstrous.
Each procedure, each injection, each agonizing moment was a step toward becoming the greatest weapon.
Agnus's screams had echoed in the sterile labs, a testament to the unimaginable pain he endured.
His body was subjected to endless surgeries, his flesh and bones reshaped into something unrecognizable.
Yet, despite the agony, he held onto the memory of his family, using it as a lifeline to survive.
Their faces, their love, were the only things keeping him tethered to his humanity as everything else was stripped away.
Agnus’s greatest weakness was also his greatest strength: his family.
The love he had for them, twisted into a weapon by the scientists, was still there, buried beneath layers of pain and anger.
Each time the needle pierced his skin, each time a bone was shattered and reformed, he thought of his wife’s gentle smile and his daughter’s laughter.
It was this love that had been his undoing and his salvation, a flicker of light in the darkness that kept him from losing himself completely.
The transformation into a weapon of destruction wasn't just about the physical alterations they forced upon him; it was also the emotional and psychological torment that broke him.
At first, Agnus followed the Nexus officers' orders without question, driven by a desperate need to protect his family.
He endured the cruel experiments and the horrific procedures because he believed it was the only way to keep them safe.
Each command he obeyed, each mission he completed, was a painful compromise of his morals, but he endured it all for the sake of his wife and daughter.
But then, everything changed.
One day, the heart-wrenching news came: his wife and daughter had died in a tragic accident.
Agnus's world, already fragile from the constant abuse and manipulation, shattered completely.
The light that had kept him tethered to his humanity was extinguished, leaving behind a void filled with unimaginable grief and rage.
The news hit him like a physical blow, ripping through the last remnants of his soul.
Agnus stopped taking orders.
The obedience that had been forced upon him was replaced by a burning desire for retribution.
His grief-fueled rampage was indiscriminate.
He attacked anyone associated with Nexus, turning his once unstoppable strength against his creators.
The very powers that made him their perfect weapon now made him their worst nightmare.
His movements were swift and lethal, each strike driven by the torment of his loss.
In his darkest moments, Agnus even tried to end his own life, desperate to escape the unending torment.
But his enhanced body, designed to withstand anything, refused to let him die.
Each attempt was met with rapid healing, a cruel reminder of his inescapable fate.
He had become an indestructible monster, trapped in a cycle of pain and despair.
The scars of his self-inflicted wounds, though healed, left an indelible mark on his spirit.
As his rampage grew more uncontrollable, the Nexus officers realized they needed to stop him by any means necessary.
They employed every resource at their disposal—elite soldiers, advanced weaponry, and complex strategies.
Yet Agnus, driven by an unquenchable thirst for vengeance, was nearly unstoppable.
His wrath was a force of nature, a hurricane of destruction that swept through their ranks, leaving devastation in its wake.
Despite the stories that circulated, it wasn’t Robert who had triumphed over Agnus.
In truth, Robert had faced defeat, his strength and cunning no match for the raw fury of Agnus.
The legend of Robert’s victory was a fabricated tale, a narrative crafted to mask the truth: it was Agnus who chose to surrender.
Overwhelmed by his grief and the futility of his rage, he had come to a breaking point.
The relentless cycle of violence had brought him no solace, no closure.
His imprisonment wasn't a victory for Robert, but a hollow compromise born from Agnus's own decision to stop fighting.
Agnus stood amidst the ruins of his rage, surrounded by the carnage he had wrought, and realized the emptiness of his vengeance.
The faces of his wife and daughter haunted him, their memory a ghostly whisper in the storm of his fury.
He had looked into the abyss of his soul and found nothing but an endless void.
His decision to stop fighting came from within. Agnus's surrender was an act of profound despair, a final admission of his brokenness.
He allowed himself to be chained and imprisoned, not out of defeat, but out of a desperate need for an end to his suffering.
The chains that bound him were a physical manifestation of his inner torment, a self-imposed exile from the world that had taken everything from him.
As he stood in that room, a colossal figure bound by massive chains, he was not just a weapon of destruction, but a tragic testament to the horrors of Project Epoch.
With Agnus subdued and contained, Project Epoch accelerated at an unprecedented rate.
Yet, despite their fervent efforts, they never managed to replicate the overwhelming power of their original creation.
Many subjects perished, their bodies unable to withstand the horrific transformations.
Desperation led the scientists to shift their focus from the elderly and adults to children, seeking to mold the perfect weapon from the most malleable subjects.
Their cruel experiments turned innocent lives into vessels of unimaginable pain and potential.
In the midst of this, another weapon emerged: Noel.
Unlike Agnus, whose rage had led to a brief and tragic rampage, Noel's fury burned with a cold, calculated intensity.
He was the culmination of their twisted ambitions, a creation of their own making who now turned against them with a vengeance.
Noel's story was one of darkness and determination.
Taken from an orphanage, subjected to inhumane experiments, and molded into something beyond human, he became their worst nightmare.
While they aimed to create a tool of control, they had instead forged a harbinger of their own destruction.
As he stood before the imprisoned Agnus, Noel felt a deep sense of kinship with the giant.
They were both victims of the same monstrous project, both twisted by the same hands.
But where Agnus had once been broken by his sorrow, Noel's resolve had only hardened.
He was ready to dismantle the very system that had sought to control him.