A life of pain, fear and misery? Was this what his uncle offered him? For what? The power he needed to finally bring down his opposition to their knees? Making sacrifices, having to face the fact others would have to sacrifice him, throwing his life away? Would it be worth it?
“I will let you think about this yourself, Mark. Once you are ready to face the reality of what you are, then you can come find me.” The aura in the room died down, and the man turned around. After a second of pause, he walked forward, calmly opening the door and stepping out, shutting it behind him and leaving a stunned Mark inside the room to contemplate.
Mark turned to the side, and his eyes locked on the card on his bed. He walked to the card and lifted it to his face. As he observed the card, a screen appeared before his eyes and he slowly lifted his gaze to the screen,
[Hyvard Pure, Descendant Elder]
[Faction: Fallen Origin Academy]
A contact card? He must be so full of himself to leave this here. I feel like throwing it away, but I also feel like I would need this in the future. He had still not come to a decision on what path he had to take in achieving his dreams, and when he did is the point where this card would become useful.
Mark sighed, then he walked to his bed and dropped the cat in his arms. She was Nyra, the pet he had grown up with in his home. Those fools had tried to toy with her, but Mark did not allow their stupidity. She was far too important for him to be careless with, being the only one he had escaped the war with — the only true family he had to protect.
He sighed calmly, and then after some time he collapsed on his bed and fell asleep.
——
Mark walked around in circles, his issues with sensing directions left him in a puzzled state in every direction he took. Although the effects could be referred to as small, it was still a hindrance to him in such a massive space. Sometimes, he wondered why there had to be so many branching networks.
Today, he was taking another one of his secret excursions outside the facility.
Of course, no one was supposed to know. So he had to avoid the guards at all costs. The sword handed to him as a training tool by the facility — the institution that took him in after the war: was sheathed by his side. A safe assurance, well, depending on the type of danger he runs into.
After a while of aimless wandering and avoiding patrolling guards, he reached the gates to find the guards absent. He calculated — more like knew from experience — that they were slacking off, as usual, and had themselves locked away in the barracks. Unless something big was to happen, the guards would not move an inch to help.
Mark just sighed, finding the best spot some distance away from the main gate and then he leapt onto the wall and began to climb, digging his fingers into the holes he had created in the past. There was no way one would notice them, unless properly investigated, being shrouded in the shadows.
He climbed to the top, then jumped down.
Landing on his butt, Mark took a second to suck up the pained scream before rising to his feet. A few seconds of further pause was taken to compose himself, then he began walking forward. For the past few weeks, his broken sensors had been receiving signals emanating from a particular area.
He'd tried his best to reach there the past day but failed. Today, Mark decided it would be best if he got to the roots of the matter. Finding the core of the received signals was a major reason he went through all that trouble, and not wanting to join the others was secondary.
Not after the stunt he had to deal with yesterday.
“Sigh…”
He shook his head.
It took him mere moments to reach his destination. It was a nearby mountain range within the safe zone, and the closer they got: the stronger and more disruptive those signals became. He grew quite annoyed as he began to scale the mountain. He reached the top, releasing his second sigh.
The first he noticed was a ship that had crashed on the top of the mountain.
Various mechanic parts had been scattered throughout the mountain range — the vast forest surrounded by mountains, on top one which he stood — rusted into the earth, beaten down by the elements of time and age. Mark wondered why he had only begun to receive this signal, and why others were yet to plunder this heap of ageing technology.
That was until he noticed the humanoid figure next to the ship. It had its hands stretched forth as if it had dragged herself out of the ship. Mark approached it, wondering if it was still alive. Then, he frowned as the signals he received weakened as he observed the target.
“Is it dead? I should bury it… yeah, as a sign of respect to the ancients.” Mark drew out his sword calmly, “But, basic protocol ensures I should confirm if the target is dead or not. Murder by accident is a punishable offence — well, when you are caught of course. Not like anyone’s here to catch him.”
Haha… ha… Ha.
Mark stepped forth boldly, reaching out with his sword to poke the target. Even with the cold blade of his sword poking her all over her body, the target remained calm — moving only ever so slightly as a countermeasure against being buried alive by Mark. While he was calmly poking her, he also calculated how he could report this without blowing his cover.
‘Poke Poke…’
Just as he raised his sword higher and poked into the belly of his target, Mark paused. Suddenly, Mark tilted his head to the side, spinning his body to follow his sudden movement — closely evading the terrifying scythe that had come cleaving down. He slid backwards, raising his sword to defend himself from a second cleave as he searched for the source of the attack.
The target had vanished!
“Clang!”
Trap!
Mark slid even further back, now ankle-deep into the soil. After a few seconds, he finally discovered the source of the attack — and his heart grew cold after that. He was so engrossed in poking his target that he did not notice an entire body part had been deconstructed and reconstructed before his very eyes.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
It was a technological attachment he was all too familiar with; being that the highborne intruder Hyvard had used it on him just a day ago. It was what they referred to as MagiTek: an enhancement of magical energy perception and reservation by the installation of numerous advanced nanochips in the brain.
This miscellaneous technology powered a variety of abilities and was the core enhancement of numerous technological wonders. From atmosphere manipulation on a planetary scale to absolute control over the chemistry of one’s very body — it was a power beyond the understanding of many.
The target rose from its sleeping position rubbing its eyes before letting out a loud yawn. Its left arm had completely transformed into a terrifyingly flexible scythe attached to its body, and it did not seem to be as disturbed about it as Mark had become.
After a while, the target locked onto Mark, sighing to itself before rising to its feet as it instantly reconstructed her right arm before Mark’s stunned eyes. Her arm which was visibly made of flesh and bones, transformed into a curved blade that gleamed in the sunlight.
It was a strange sight for him. It was as if her “pure” arm cracked into numerous active pieces — each piece constantly reconstructing itself to match the properties of the second scythe. The second her arm defragmented to completely match the material of the first scythe, it transformed slowly — hardening into a devastating scythe that lunged for Mark’s neck.
“Clang!”
Mark parried both scythes, his hand glued to the hilt of his sword as he tightened his stance on the ground. He watched calmly whilst calculating how he could put a swift and most likely bloody end to this pathetic excuse for a MagiTek user. He parried more attacks, taking slow steps sideways instead of moving back or forth, watching the enemy attack pattern.
“I sent out that signal to attract a group of strong life forms to my position, and all I got was another child. This one looks even as young as my body is, yet I am unable to immobilize it.” The target groaned as Mark parried more of her attacks effortlessly, her voice silvery but quite weak, “Curses! I cannot believe I was disturbed by this pathetic lowlife! I feel so mad, my head is spinning.”
Mark did not even blink hearing her thoughts, still focused on defending his life as the dual scythes cleaved at him. Thankfully, she seemed only powerful enough to defragment two limbs at the same time, and he thanked his lucky stars for this slight detail. As for the nonsense she was blabbering, he wasn’t interested in throwing away his life to understand it.
"This is getting boring." The target retracted both scythes and took a step back. Her hands returned to normal after a few seconds, and she calmly watched Mark within that time. The second she confirmed her hands had returned to how it was meant to be, the target leapt forward at superhuman speed, stunning Mark who watched all her actions calmly.
Despite her display of raw power, Mark remained still. He tightened his hand even harder around his blade, and then he also dashed forward. Unlike the target’s superhuman dashing ability, Mark was not able to display anything superhuman in terms of speed. Although his speed was low, his strength was not — not even in the slightest.
He aimed his blade, and when the distance between them was short enough, Mark stabbed forth ruthlessly with his sword, burying the blade in his target’s torso. It slid in completely, its edge shooting out of her back in a splatter of blood. With a sword buried in her chest, the target coughed up blood uncontrollably.
“Fu Fu, Hah… Haha… Hahaha!” The target laughed hysterically with blood running down her face from the corner of her lips. Even with a sword buried into her guts, she was still able to speak without feeling even an ounce of fatigue, it was as if the blood loss did not affect her at all, “You pest.”
Mark sharply drew out his blade and then dashed away frantically. He was only lucky by a second, missing the wicked scythe that would have severed him in two halves, only ending up with a ghastly cut on the side of his face. The wound burned, making Mark feel very uncomfortable. Stunned, he returned to his defensive position whilst watching the target.
She was grinning and chuckling: the wide gash in her abdomen was yet to heal and was still bleeding, yet she stood and laughed like nothing was happening. Mark noticed a pair of long fangs, noting the danger as he continued observing. He noticed that she had already transformed her hands again, and he braced for another wave of frantic assaults.
Scythes rained down from above, shrouding his vision in a layer of imminent death. Mark raised his blade, countering every strike ruthlessly, his eyes burning in a fanatic desire to survive. The pain from the burning wound tripled with every blow he deflected, his movements growing slower and less fluid by the second, a layer of fatigue slowly clouding his mind — dulling his thoughts.
"You miserable vermin, a worthless pile of waste and stupidity — did you think, you could harm me with such pathetic weapons? Fool. I will kill you where you stand." The target laughed as she swung her scythes from side to side, clashing with Mark's blade and chipping away at his strength even further, the crazed gleam in her eyes growing into a blinding glow.
"I…" Mark dashed away from her attacking range, taking another stance with his eyes narrowed, "think I can harm you, especially since I inflicted that wound in your stomach without even using 70% of my true power. You have lost, but you don't know it yet."
The target paused.
"Wait, you don't believe this little wound you inflicted on me would kill me do you?" The target sighed, looking weary with a burden unknown to Mark. Before she could say anything else, the wound in her abdomen sealed up before Mark's eyes — leaving not a single scar where it had once appeared. The target was unable to regenerate her clothing, revealing her pale skin.
Mark frowned, but before he could finally attempt healthy communication with the enemy, she vanished from sight. He frowned as he looked around himself with a cold gleam in his eyes, wondering where she had run off to. His grip on his sword remained tightened, his senses on high alert as he watched the area whilst fighting the sudden waves of temptation to turn around unnecessarily.
“I am standing beside you.”
Mark's heart skipped a beat. He turned around to defend himself but discovered too late that he had turned in the wrong direction as a massive force slammed into his lower back, blasting him out of the mountaintop like a sorry football. He came to a somersaulting crash at the foot of the mountain; all the bones in his left arm shattered from the crash.
"The human body is too fragile. Even with all these modifications, you see how easily I shattered your bones there? We dedicated our lives to improving our physical forms, doing everything we can to terminate every form of physical flesh — becoming truly one with 'our' technology." The target began to speak, her voice still crisp and energetic, "and then, we asked ourselves: Why eliminate the weaknesses of humanity for just one generation? Why don't we make sure to eliminate this weak humanoid form in humans forever?"
[Warning! Damage inflicted has crossed 30%. (Fatigue +15%) received!]
Mark struggled to his feet; his stance had become unstable. He looked ready to collapse at any moment, but he stood his ground without relenting to the pain he felt all over his body. He gripped his blade as tight as he could, knowing that the moment he collapsed — it would be over for him.
"So, we developed technologies to not just alter the bodies of the parent — but the child in the womb, finally creating new genes that were heritable by the next generation. Blood-lusted battle fanatics enhanced by the ever-advancing technologies of bionic alteration, conquest leading fanatics with numerous alterations to aid superhuman regeneration and strength, bionic humans who stood beyond it all in every possible way."
[Warning! Damage inflicted has crossed 50%, (Fatigue +25%) received!]
Mark panted. Was this some sort of early-game boss fight? The thought that he could have avoided all these if he had just minded his business ailed him greatly. He had not weakened her body at all, yet he was nearing collapse himself. He didn’t know what to do in this situation, and he was running out of time — fast!
"Do you understand what it meant for us to control not just our lives, but the lives of those that came after us? Do you understand what it means to remain in power, generations after your lawless destabilisation and collapse?" The target laughed, and then she collapsed into a fighting stance, "I guess neither of us does, and I believe that one of us might never get the chance to understand."
"Hah… Hah…" Mark braced himself, but the scythes he expected did not come descending upon him like they had earlier, instead, the target lunged for him at a frightening speed. Confused for a second, Mark thought back to her elongated fangs — and intelligently, he dashed in the opposite direction from her. There were a lot of extras one could install in their fangs exempting the dangerous neurotoxins and raw biting damage alone, Mark was, of course, not going to have himself learn which of which was installed by the target.
“Heh Heh!” but his target wanted to show it to him anyway.