A life of pain, fear and misery? This was what his uncle offered him. For what? Power? Making sacrifices, having to face the fact others would have to sacrifice him — isn’t that throwing his life to the wind? For the strength he’d acquire, would it be really worth it?

“I will allow you to meditate on my offer, Mark. Once you are ready to face the reality of what you are, then you should come back.” The freezing aura in the room died down, and the man sighed. After a few seconds of pause, he reached into his pockets, took out a card then dropped it on the bed.

“Kindly see yourself out.” Mark stared at him, tracing his movements with his gaze as his uncle walked past him with his hands in his pockets. As his uncle slammed the door shut behind him, an emotionless Mark walked towards the door, then he locked it.

“For the love of privacy…” he muttered to himself.

Turning around, his gaze fell on the card his uncle dropped earlier, and Mark approached it. The moment he reached the bed and took the card in his hands, Mark narrowed his eyes. It was as blank as the vast abyss of space… but, as he felt around, a few screens visualised before him,

[Card Holder — Hyvard Maxim]

[Holder’s Faction — Descendant]

[Saved Linked Contact!] — [Contact Now?]

A contact card? He must be so full of himself to leave this here. I want to throw this away, but I feel I would need this in the future. Well, Mark hoped that he never had to use this card, maybe live a nice life as a nice normal guy and die a nice normal death. As for revenge… Mark paused.

After a few moments standing in silence, he dropped the card on the desk by the bed snuggling up to Nyra as she clawed at his face. Ah yes let us introduce you to the normalcy — bleeding in bed until morning. Lesson: always snuggle with your pets in bed as for the reward? Good health.

——

He woke up the next morning very sore, sweeping his hand through his ruffled hair, and groggy, his eyes narrowed and burning as he looked around in the dimly illuminated room. Shifting his gaze across the room, it fell on the wardrobe, and the rusty sword he kept by it, and sighed.

“What a rusty blade…. I have a better one.” Yawning, Mylos shifted his gaze from the blade, rising to his feet then pausing as he stood with his bed behind him. His pupils burst in flames as his droopy gaze turned sharp, and he turned his gaze back to the blade, “Well, that was the point…”

Mark, who was very versed in technology — not to brag, Heh — had traced the weird directional signals his synaptic sensors were intercepting and discovered it to be some weird area outside their facility. Now, he was not a model child, and had sneaked out once or twice, but this was dangerous.

Outside the facility were mutated monsters, remnants of the past wars. The safe zone, that is the area actively being defended by the facility does not include the area he had traced those signal to. It was a risk wandering into an unknown area to solve an equally unknown issue but Mark was ready.

“I cannot wander around with a faulty synaptic sensor. I have to find the source of those signals and destroy it!” Mark fists his hand, slamming the lower half into his open palm, then turning to the wardrobe, and walking towards it, “I have prepared for this day and now I shall — wait…”

Staring in the wardrobe, Mark blinked. These clothes — all bright colours — would attract too much attention. Besides, he could not wear just any cloth and wander into an unknown area where he had no idea of what he was going to face! He needed something to defend himself.

Something a little less flashy than his fancy old tools. Mark paused with a cold gleam in his eyes, then he felt his face light up and the room, cough — hallucination — cough, brighten up around him as crouched down, pulling out the suitcase at the bottom of the wardrobe, then opening it.

Inside was the dusty armour the institution gifted them for defence in training operations. As he held it up to his face, feeling the smooth and tough material in his hands, a screen appeared. He was silent, raising his gaze to read the text on the screens,

[Dusty Old Armour] — [Torso]

[Attribute Endurance] [+ 10 Points]

[Attribute Speed] [+ 2 Points]

[Attribute Perception] [- 2 Points]

Seeing this, Mark did not know whether to laugh or cry, “All my base attributes are at the value 10 and this loss in perception complemented with the issues I face with directional positioning will make such a beautiful pair! I am so glad.” Tears filled his eyes. Tears of pain.

——

Leaving his barracks, the situation quickly changed. On his way, walking down the busy path that led to the gates, Mark lowered his gaze. He was walking fast whilst thinking on how he would handle different situations, when suddenly, he crashed into someone, then stopped.

A young girl sat on the ground, muttering curses. Mark’s emotionless expression quickly turned apologetic and he reached out a hand to help her. The horns growing out the sides of her forehead caught his gaze, but Mark thought little of it, “I am so sorry. I was in such a hurry I did not see you.”

“It’s okay…” the girl helped herself to her feet, patting the dust off her body and picking up the clothing she’d dropped, then darted off without saying another word. Leaving Mark to stare calmly, his gaze narrowed as he turned around and began walking forward again.

For the next seconds, he moved like a ninja! Or, the visual representation of them he’s read from various mythological books. He walked forward, vanishing into the shadows and appearing a distant location away, weaving past the blind spots of the patrolling guards.

He reached the gates, soaked in perspiration with all the colour drained from his face. Feeling his heart beating in his chest, he tried to calm himself. He spent hours trying to manoeuvre around them — the guards — whilst dealing with his map issues. It was not a funny experience.

One mistake, and he’d be punished to oblivion. Fortunately, at long last, he reached the stepping stone to achieve his goals: the big, heavily guarded gates that surrounded this facility. As he stood in silence, hiding in the shadows of tall buildings, he sighed, “Now, let me begin.”

Hunching over, Mark channelled energy into his lower legs, and then leaped ahead, bursting into a sprint. Covering a distance of over twenty metres in one instance, his movements were practically a blur to any observer. That was his raw strength — not the use of drugs or a skill.

He slammed his fingers into the walls, scaling the heights with ease This area — shrouded in the darkness of shadows — was one of the many blind spots anyone in the facility could exploit with the necessary experience, “Imagine how fucked I’d be getting caught at his moment.”

Mark reached the top of the wall, turning around with a victorious spark in his eyes to observe the facility, when he noticed a familiar guard walking his his direction. His heart skipped a beat and Mark, stunned, missed a step and lost his balance, falling over sideways.

He landed on his sides, and nearly vomited blood from landing on the sword hidden in his thick armour. Standing to his feet, Mark’s stunned gaze turned determined. He took the sword out, a cold gleam in his eyes as he unsheathed it, then turned from the facility walls to the world outside.

Once outside this defended safe zone, there was only corruption as far as the eyes could see. He always wondered how humanity could turn a blind eye to this and continued to conquer more when its core worlds rotted. Mark closed his eyes then took in a deep breath, alas, he could care less.

——

Dodging flying birds and squashing bugs the size of a shopping cart, Mark finally weaved a path through the corruption to reach the source. Feeling the strong disruption in the area, Mark was sure of it! He looked around, “It’s strange though, there is nothing at the foot. I guess it is at the top?”

Before him stood a mountain that stretched into the skies, and around him were decayed leaves and bladed-metal grass, “It is strange that there are no monsters here. This place should be crawling with life but there is only decay. Is there some sort of predator living here?”

As an ominous feeling loomed, the curiosity he felt burned, and Mark began to climb the heights with his unsheathed sword strapped to his waist. He wanted to see fore himself what was so strong that it caused this massive disruption, and why only he could intercept it.

Soon, Mark found himself at the top of the mountain and his pupils shrunk to needlepoint. The crest of the mountain housed a transport pod, although it was larger than the production units he’d seen throughout his short lifetime, “and it looks quite ancient. Has this been here for that long?”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The mountain he climbed were merely a part of a bigger mountain range, and as Mark stepped to the edge and looked down upon the ground, his sceptical expression turned grim. At the foot of this mountain, on the other side, was a crashed starship, its state deplorable and pathetic.

“I wonder why no one has plundered this place yet. This is greater stranger by this minute.” He observed the area, unable to ding a monster in sight. The ominous feeling strengthened, like a beast breathed down upon his neck, but he could not leave now. Not until he satisfied his curiosity.

He stepped back, turning to the transport pod, and approaching it. That was until he noticed the female-looking humanoid behind the transport pod. It lay on its side, motionless with its eyes closed as he approached. When he was close enough, he paused, “She looks so pale. Is she dead?”

Mark crouched down, poking her skin with his blade. The blade poked into her skin easily, yet he was unable to inflict a wound. Not a regular, I guess. He poked continuously, but even after minutes, it was proven fruitless. He checked her pulse, but there was none, and his turned crestfallen.

“I guess so.” Mark sighed, prepared to move on and take the transport pod apart. Suddenly, as he crouched in silence, the feeling of danger overwhelmed him as as a cold shiver licked up his spine, all his hair stood on ends. His mind screamed for safety, and Mark acted fast, filing his blade to block.

The flash of light he had caught out of the corner of his eyes slammed into his sword, and Mark was sent sent tumbling over. Standing to his feet, he wondered what kind of monster housed such a terrifying might, turning to the dead creature from earlier. It had vanished!

Risen to its feet, beautiful and as pale as the dead, the creature — which he prayed to be a good regular human — yawned. Mark lowered his gaze to at her hand and felt his heart clench. Before his very eyes, it had shifted into a terrifying scythe, gleaming in the sunlight.

The beautiful creature quickly turned into an immediate threat, and Mark turned serious. Before he could initiate a conversation, she dashed forward, and his eyes exploded with a fierce light. There was a loud clanging sound as his blade clashed with hers, and he was sent skidding back.

“Active Cellular Reconstruction?” Mark questioned, wondering how else he could explain this. He had never seen such a technology, but he felt like he had read on it somewhere. It was a branch of an even broader prospect, an advanced genetic modification of ancient humanity called MagiTek.

Actively transforming cellular matter could be noted as nothing short of some magic technology as something like that should be physically impossible for the average human to comprehend. A feat similar to the transformation of an atmosphere with a singular thought. Yes, his uncle’s power.

“Impossible.” Mark muttered, watching as the creature before him transformed its left hand. The skin shifted, reconstructing into layers of metal, until it shaped into a hardened blade. Before he had the chance to wonder the construct of its glory, the creature before him vanished again.

It was too fast for him to follow! Clang! Clang!

Mark parried both scythes, his hand glued to the hilt of his sword as he tightened his stance on the ground. He observed, calculating how he could put a swift and likely bloody end to this pathetic excuse for a MagiTek user. He parried more attacks, neither retreating nor advancing.

“Initiating universal communication protocol for annoying prey. Hello, prey. I sent out that signal to attract a group of strong lifeforms to feed on, and all I received was a child no older than I — you. An unfortunate circumstance is at hand as I seem unable to immobilise you.” It paused, then sighed.

“Are you a sanguinexus?” Mark questioned, parrying her blades and staggering back with a cold light in his eyes. He had read on these creatures years ago, given how advanced of a human race the group were. Facing one, he finally realised how terrifying what he’d read about them really were.

She did not reply, dashing forward and shooting he hand in his direction, transforming it from a deadly scythe to her regular hand. On impulse, Mark dared not allow her connect that attack, lifting his blade and blocking the attacking. The sound of metal scraping against metal sent him chills.

He sidestepped, dodging her cleaving scythe and countering by swinging his blade to attack. The targeted sanguinexus tilted her body to the side, dodging the attack with ease a she retreated from a gloomy Mark. He dashed forward to chase so she swooped her fingers at him but he blocked it.

She attacked fiercely but his defence remained strong. Circling him, a blood red mirage followed her, and the cold light in her gaze persisted. Mark, on the other hand, ensured that his back was not turned to her, turning to face her as she circled him, not daring to reveal an opening.

"This is getting boring." The sanguinexus retracted both scythes and took a step back. Her hands returned to normal and she clenched them then released. Mark observed her as he wondered what she was up to, until she stepped back, and dashed forward at a frightening speed, stunning him.

Despite her display of raw power, Mark stood his ground. He tightened his hand even harder around his blade, and then he also dashed forward. Even though he could not match the dashing ability of the sanguinexus, he was no slouch! Mark took in a deep breath, bracing himself.

He aimed his blade, and when the distance between closed, Mark stabbed forth ruthlessly with his sword, burying the blade in his sanguinexus’s torso. It slid in completely, its edge shooting out of her back in a splatter of blood. With a sword in her chest, the sanguinexus coughed up blood.

“Fu-Fu. Hah… Haha… Hahaha!” The sanguinexus laughed hysterically with blood running down her jaw from the corner of her lips. Even with a blade driven through her, she was still able to speak without feeling even an ounce of fatigue, unaffected by the blood loss, “You imbecile!”

Mark sharply drew out his blade and then dashed away frantically. He was lucky to have missed the wicked scythe that would have severed him in two halves, only ending up with a cut on the side of his face. The wound burned, and Mark squeezed his face into a frown, entering a defensive pose.

[Negative Status Effect (Debuff) Inflicted!]

[Debuff Effect (Burn)] — [Healing has slowed by 50%]

The sanguinexus was grinning and chuckling: the wide gash in her abdomen was slow to heal so it bled profusely, yet she stood and laughed it off like it was nothing. Her gleaming fangs, which he’d used to guess her race, were fully bared as she transformed both hands in scythes again.

Boom! She dashed forward, shattering the earth and creating a massive crater, leaping toward a watchful Mark as she unleashed a full burst of attacks. Her scythes rained, shrouding his vision in a layer of imminent death. He raised his blade, countering every strike ruthlessly, his gaze burning.

The pain from the burning wound tripled with every blow he deflected and his movements grew sluggish, a layer of fatigue slowly clouding his mind – dulling his thoughts. The attacks poured, yet he defended them without fail. The fanatic desire to survive overwhelmed — no — empowered him.

"You miserable vermin! Did you think you would kill me with such a pitiful weapon? Fool. I’ll end you where you stand!” The sanguinexus mocked, swinging her scythes without mercy, cleaving from vicious angles and chipping away at Mark’s defence.

The mad gleam in her blood red eyes turning to a frightening glow as her grin widened, her aura transforming as Mark staggered back, his defence weakening. The afterimages she left persisted like a bloody phantasm, following her as she moved. Mark, unfazed, continued to fight with all his might.

"I…” Mark dashed away as she slowed down, panting heavily with beads of sweat running down the side of his face. She was civilised enough, and did not chase, waiting for him to catch his breath, “I haven’t even used… seventy percent… of my… true power…”

The sanguinexus paused, then spoke after a while, "Wait, you don't believe this little wound you inflicted on me would kill me do you?" The sanguinexus sighed, looking weary with a heavy burden. To Mark’s absolute horror, the wound in her abdomen closed up, and not even a scar was left. Her skin, smooth and pale, was bare as the hole in her black dress remained.

Mark frowned, but before they could continue the conversation, she vanished from sight, and as he failed to sense her, his heart skipped a beat. He turned around, but no one was there, and only at the next instance did he realise how much of a blunder he’d made, in the form of a whisper,

“I am standing beside you.”

Mark 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.

[Fatal Damage Inflicted!]

[Health -40%]

[Negated Healing Reduction Debuff]

[Negated Shock Debuff]

[Negated Immobilisation Debuff]

Three rebuffs in a single instance? Mark was shocked, struggling to his feet and looking up to the crest of the mountain, watching as the demon glided down the mountain. What had he done to face a threat like this? All he wanted to to find the fault for his faulty sensors not fight some monster.

"The human body is too fragile — even with all these modifications, it took little effort to crush you like the lowly primate you are — so we dedicated lives to improving our physical forms, doing everything we can to terminate every form of mortality – becoming truly one with 'our' technology." The sanguinexus began to speak, her voice still crisp and energetic, “Then, we asked ourselves: Why do this for one generation? Why not remain immortal as a race forever, generations into the future?”

[Warning! Damage Inflicted has crossed 30%. (Fatigue +15%) received!]

[Negative Status (Debuff) Inflicted!]

[Debuff Effect (Fatigue)] — [Speed reduction by 5%]

Mark struggled to his feet; his stance had 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, his hands trembling. The moment I collapse, it’ll be over. I have to push this...z

"So, we developed technologies to not just alter the bodies of the parent – but the child in the womb, creating new genes that were heritable by the next generation. Blood-lusted battle fanatics enhanced by the growing technologies of bionic alteration. Altering the cellular construct to create branched races of humanity tailored to eliminate its weaknesses, strengthening its foundation.”

[Warning! Damage inflicted has crossed 50%, (Fatigue +25%) received!]

[Debuff Effect (Fatigue)] — [Speed reduction by 10%]

Mark panted. Was this some sort of early-game boss fight? If I had just minded my business and I lived my life with the faulty sensor, would things have been better? He clenched his fists. If he did not do something fast, his life would end here. He was lucky she gave him chance to breath, but it was useless. The distance between heaven and earth could was not closed with rain.

"Do you understand what it meant for us to control not just our lives, but the lives of those that came after us? Generations after your destabilised failure, your influence only grows, immortalised in the hearts of the human race.” The sanguinexus sighed, “Not many do, nor would live to.”

"Hah… Hah…" Mark braced himself, but the scythes he expected did not come descending upon him, instead, the sanguinexus lunged for him at a frightening speed. Confused for a second, he was quick to think back to her elongated fangs – and intelligently, he dashed in the opposite direction from her. He was not running away now, just manoeuvring from an observer’s point of view.

There were a lot of extras one could install in their fangs exempt dangerous neurotoxins and the raw biting force, and Mark, as intelligently as he ran from her, did not want to know which of them a sanguinexus like this installed. But sadly for him, his assaulter wants to show it to him even more!