The Ravenkroft Hybrid blinked open his eyes. The pain was gone. Over. It had been replaced by a new feeling. One of spine-tingling power. He put his hands to either side of him and pushed himself up off the table. He stood next to it, breathing heavily for a moment, his eyes wide with excitement and . . . was this adrenaline he felt, coursing through his veins, nerves, and muscles?

Yes, it must’ve been. This was what Humans referred to as a rush. This felt incredible. Like he could conquer whole worlds with just the power of his fists alone. Even the dimly-lit interior of the ship shined in brighter colors; his thoughts had a clarity to them they had not before . . . before what? Before his birth? He dimly remembered being two creatures before this: Ravenkroft, and the Visitor. Now neither existed apart from the other. Now the two were one, in him. Now only he existed.

Who was he? What was he? He looked at his hands. Human hands. He vaguely remembered having seven fingers. Or was it five all along? He couldn’t recall. This was all so new. Everything felt new. The air he breathed, the chill of it on his naked skin, the sight of the room around him, the colors in his vision . . . all of it, calling to his senses to be experienced for the first time, to be savored, to be relished. He sucked in a lungful of air. Ah, to taste. To smell. It was divine. He ran a hand over his head. Did he have hair? No? Not much? He leaned over the mirror surface of the table to get a look at himself.

Gah! Repulsive! Wretched. But yet . . . at least symmetrical. Oh well. He felt no sexual urges, so there was no need to worry with attracting a mate. And he felt no fear of frightening other . . . other what? People? Ha! He lived to frighten. The impulse to kill was strong. Kill. But kill who? Everybody? Yes. No. Well, maybe. Only those who got in the way. But got in the way of what?

The mission. But what mission?

Slowly, memories started to trickle into his mind, like a drizzling faucet left running in a darkened room. Yes . . . yes, now he remembered. Weatherspark. The Tesseract Reactor. Forward momentum for the quest to evolve mankind further. But how? How to achieve that goal?

He had an idea. Or parts of one.

He looked around the med bay. He had never seen with such precision before. At least, not as either of his “ingredients.” Technically, he had never seen it before at all. The Visitor had seen it. And Ravenkroft had seen it. He had not, though. He looked down at his naked body. Ah, perfection. He curled the tentacles that waved behind him. Ah, yes. These would come in handy. But sadly, he would have to craft a new suit of armor that would fit him.

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He glanced at the Engineering Section of the ship, and at the spare suit of Tactical Battle Armor standing there, and then at his — well, Ravenkroft’s — Evangeliojaeger. Hmm, insufficient. But perhaps if he put them together . . . He had the tools, right here in the ship’s Engineering Section. And he possessed the Visitor’s knowledge of Zarcturean mechanics, and Ravenkroft’s, and Viktor’s, knowledge of Human science and technology. So if he were to simply take the best of the battle armor and the best of the Evangeliojaeger, and combine them, he would have a formidable weapon indeed. One that Weatherspark — a tremor of rage passed through him as he pictured her now; stupid haircut, ridiculous clothes; inferior Evangeliojaeger — could never hope to match in battle. So that when he saw her next, by god, he would show her what evolution looked like. And what it felt like to face extinction.

Now, he did have to do something about Viktor’s daughter, Rojetta Arkenvalen, as well. She had escaped her cell in the upstairs bedroom earlier tonight while he had been out. He had managed to keep her there — and keep her presence a secret from Viktor — while experimenting on her for three long years, and his experiments were not finished. She was not done yet; he had not yet used the NeuroScape to wipe her memory and program her. So she was not yet ready to be unleashed upon the world. His experiments on her had been the prototype for his Army of Monsters, who were still “cooking” in the basement. To be released at the appropriate time. Which would be soon now. Very soon.

As for Weatherspark, well, he would defeat her, and she would give him the Transcendence Engine. She would have no choice. But he would not turn it over to the Queen-Mother of the Zarcturean fleet. No. Something so powerful belonged only in the hands of a truly higher lifeform, such as himself. No, he would unlock its power, and he would bring the Eidolon forth from their home dimension, unleash them upon the Earth. But with the power of the Transcendence Engine in his grasp, he would control their only way into this universe, and their only means of regaining their physical form. So he would become their god. Not the other way around. They would do his bidding. They would help him remake this planet in his image, according to his design. Beginning with the army of monsters Viktor kept in his basement. And as for the Zarcturean invasion fleet standing by in Hyperspace? Well, let them come! With the power of the Eidolon at his command, he would swat their ships out of the sky like insects.

“Are you still up there, Viktor? Can you hear me?” he said, smiling, tapping the side of his head. “I hope you can. Because I’m never letting you out of there. Do you hear me? Ravenkroft is gone. I am in charge now, and you’ll find I’m an even harsher master than he was. Soon there will be nothing left of you. It was nice, having you around. But to all good things must come an end. And so too must you, Viktor. It’s for your own good, really. It really is. I’ve tried to protect you from this cruel and hateful world for so long, and this, believe me, is a mercy killing. You are simply too fragile to live in this world. While I am the stronger of us two . . . I can adapt. I can evolve. So I bid you farewell, Viktor. One last time, I send you into the darkness . . . to sleep, to dream. Goodbye, dear Viktor. Goodbye.”

He sighed. A slightly more sentimental sigh than he would’ve liked. He looked the Evangeliojaeger and the Tactical Battle Armor up and down.

To himself he muttered, “Now then. To work.”