{ THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW }

The golden sphere began to shrink. Slowly, steadily, it collapsed inward, squeezing the sheer destructive energy within it into an impossibly tight space. The pressure inside skyrocketed, compressing atoms beyond recognition, crushing quarks, bending spacetime itself. And yet, outside the barrier, the ocean remained still, the sky untouched. It was as if reality itself refused to acknowledge the chaos unfolding within that perfect, unyielding shell.

The three scientists jolted in their seats, their gazes locked onto the screens displaying impossible data.

“I-It’s happening!” Toyoshima stammered, his breath catching.

Taniyama’s hands trembled slightly as he gripped the edge of the desk. He had spent years buried in theory, and now, before his very eyes, was proof of something beyond theory—beyond science. He held his breath.

The sphere shrank further, its golden glow intensifying, condensing every ounce of violent energy into something infinitesimally small. And then—

It vanished.

No explosion. No residual shockwave. The sheer, cataclysmic power of an atomic bomb—deleted, erased from existence.

Taniyama removed his glasses with shaky hands, his eyes never leaving the screen. His breath came slow and unsteady as the reality of what he had just witnessed settled in.

"I was right.."

––––––––––

Deep within the mountains of Japan, buried beneath layers of rock and secrecy, lay the heart of the organization’s facility. A labyrinth of cold steel and sterile lights, spiraling downward for hundreds of floors. Each level held something—someone—worth studying. Children, taken from the world above, their existence reduced to data points and experiments.

Footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor. An old man walked, his lab coat swaying with each step.

"Good morning, Taniyama-sensei."

"Good work, Taniyama-sensei."

The greetings came from passing staff, but he barely acknowledged them. A stiff nod. A half-hearted glance. His grip tightened around the files in his hands.

He reached his team’s office, pushing open the door to the familiar space. Sonozaki and Toyoshima weren’t in yet. Taniyama set his things on his desk and lowered himself into his chair. For a moment, he simply sat there, staring at the papers in front of him.

His discovery could change the world—whether for better or worse, he wasn’t sure. And that uncertainty terrified him. A power that could bend the laws of the universe itself wasn’t something someone like him should be handling.

The door creaked open.

Taniyama expected Sonozaki’s usual polite greeting or perhaps Toyoshima’s careless morning remark. But what followed was silence. A cold weight settled in his stomach. Out of curiosity and growing anxiety, he turned his head. A man stood in the doorway. His face obscured by a mask, his body hidden beneath a pristine white lab coat.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Taniyama stood up slowly, keeping his movements measured. He faced the visitor with a composed expression, though he could feel the slight tremor in his own voice.

"How can I help you?"

The man exhaled shakily before removing his mask. Beneath it, his face was pale, tense, and mixed with exhaustion.

"Are you… Doctor Taniyama?" he asked, his voice controlled but carrying an edge of desperation.

Taniyama swallowed. "Yes."

The man stepped closer. "I’m Natsukawa. I…" He hesitated, his breathing uneven. "I need your help."

Taniyama’s brow furrowed. "What’s wrong?"

Natsukawa’s hands clenched at his sides. "You’re the one in charge of that boy, aren’t you? Subject 715?"

Taniyama’s mind raced, trying to piece together where this was going. "I am. Why? What do you need?"

He sighed, "You might want to take a seat," Natsukawa said.

Taniyama hesitated but eventually gestured toward the chair across from him. He wasn’t sure if he was making the right call, but he was too tired to think it through.

"Now, tell me what this is about," he said.

Natsukawa exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on the floor. "It started two months ago," he began. "When the power lines were cut across the entire facility."

"Right… 715 caused it," Taniyama said, slowly piecing things together. But he still didn’t know where this was going.

Natsukawa suddenly looked up, his eyes dark and hollow. "Are you aware of the Immortality Project?"

Taniyama couldn't utter a word. He shook his head.

"Subject 944… is a little girl," Natsukawa continued. "About the same age as your boy." Taniyama felt a strange sense of unease settle over him. "Her ability is immortality. Every day, I take her to the lab and perform experiments on her. But…" Natsukawa’s voice faltered. "It’s not research. It’s more of a torture than an experiment. She suffers unimaginable pain, and I witness it every single day."

Taniyama sat in stunned silence, his stomach twisting at the words. He had always known this organization had its secrets. But this was beyond anything he had imagined. Taniyama felt his grip tighten on the armrest of his chair. He didn’t realize how hard he was clenching his fingers until his nails dug into the fabric.

Natsukawa kept going, his voice flat, hollow—like a man who had long since lost something vital. "No matter how much we dismembered her, she kept regenerating. We don’t know where the cells are coming from. They just keep coming." His words were measured, but the pain behind them was impossible to miss. "But according to the information we received about her… she only regenerates if she wills it."

Taniyama’s breath hitched. "After all that… she never lost the will to live?" he asked. His voice was quieter than before. "Are you using numbing drugs on her?"

Natsukawa shook his head. He wasn’t looking at Taniyama anymore—just at the floor. "We tried to, at first," he admitted. "We tried a lot of different things on her… She was just a small kid back then. A toddler." Silence settled between them, thick and suffocating. Natsukawa finally spoke again. "Nothing worked," he whispered. "She kept crying. She kept screaming. Begging us to stop."

Taniyama covered his mouth, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes widened at the words he had just heard. "That's…"

Natsukawa didn’t wait for him to finish. "So the team came up with something," he continued. His voice was eerily steady, but there was an exhaustion beneath it. "We started giving her pleasures, little by little. We gave her toys. We gave her parents—ones that loved her dearly. We even took her outside, let her see the sky, the sun, the stars. All just to keep her from giving up." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "And she bit it," he muttered. "She clung to it."

Taniyama felt something twist in his chest.

"And then two months ago, when the power lines were cut… we couldn’t carry on with the experiments. I was supposed to take her back to her personal room, but…" Natsukawa hesitated, his eyes distant. "She ran away."

Silence.

"I don’t know why," he admitted, his tone quieter now. "She just… suddenly decided. On her own."

That last sentence echoed in Taniyama’s head, bouncing around like it held a meaning he hadn’t quite grasped yet. "Decided… on her own?" he repeated, almost absentmindedly.

Natsukawa nodded. "When I found her, she was in his room. 715’s personal room. It looked like she got there by accident."

[ To be continued ]