Chapter 61: The Unfortunate Boy

Goji had always been an ordinary teenager, the kind who blended into the background of everyday life. At 15 years old, his days consisted of school, homework, and simple dreams of a future that felt as though it was just beginning. He had friends, a family who loved him, and a quiet life in a small neighborhood where nothing ever really happened. But all of that ended in an instant.

On what seemed like an uneventful afternoon, Goji was walking home from a nearby convenience store, the sun dipping below the horizon. The usual hum of city life surrounded him—the distant sounds of traffic, the chatter of pedestrians, the rustle of leaves in the wind. He never imagined that this simple walk would be his last as a free person.

A white car appeared out of nowhere, screeching to a halt next to him. Before Goji could even react, two men in white robes lunged at him, grabbing him with such force that he couldn’t fight back. The car doors slammed shut, and the vehicle sped off into the night, its tires screeching on the asphalt. His desperate cries for help were muffled by the engine's roar, drowned out by the cold, mechanical hand of fate that had just claimed him.

The CCTV footage from a nearby store was the only trace of his abduction, a fleeting glimpse of a terrified boy struggling against the two faceless men before they disappeared into the night. The authorities could only watch helplessly as the footage revealed no clues about the identity of the kidnappers, other than their eerie, emotionless presence. The white-robed men vanished without a trace.

Hours later, the car was discovered—abandoned and burnt to the ground on a lonely stretch of road. There was no evidence of the men. No sign of Goji. Just a smoldering wreckage, the remains of a vehicle turned to ash in a desperate attempt to erase all traces of what had happened. The police combed the area, but there was nothing to find. Goji had disappeared, and it was as if he had never existed.

But Goji wasn’t dead. He wasn’t lost in the way they thought. Instead, he was trapped in a far worse nightmare. He found himself in an isolated, clinical facility—a cold, sterile lab designed for one purpose only: to break him, reshape him, and turn him into something he was never meant to be. The world outside was oblivious to the horrors unfolding behind the walls of Dr. Machinist’s dark domain.

Dr. Machinist had been waiting for him, his twisted mind already planning the boy’s transformation into a cyborg. Goji’s screams filled the empty lab as his body was torn apart and rebuilt with cold, unfeeling precision. The transformation was brutal, the pain unimaginable. Metal limbs were grafted where flesh once was, weaponized appendages replaced his hands and feet, and his once-human bones were reinforced with steel and alloys stronger than anything organic. The machinery that replaced his flesh was designed for one purpose: destruction.

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The agony was relentless. Each incision, each modification, each moment felt as though his very essence was being shredded. Goji begged for mercy, but there was none. He wasn’t given the mercy of anesthetics. The drugs that might have dulled the pain were withheld. Instead, Goji was forced to endure every excruciating moment in full, unfiltered suffering.

But the physical torment was nothing compared to the mental torture that followed. For an entire year, Goji was subjected to the whims of Dr. Machinist, whose twisted experiments pushed his mind and body to the absolute brink. He was isolated, locked away in a dark cell, with only the sound of machinery and his own tortured thoughts to keep him company. His body was reprogrammed, his mind manipulated, and his humanity slowly stripped away.

Dr. Machinist wasn’t content with just transforming Goji into a killing machine. No, that was only the beginning. Goji had to be broken. His memories, his sense of self, everything that made him human had to be erased. Dr. Machinist drilled into his psyche, telling him again and again that his family, his friends, his past—none of it mattered anymore. He was a tool now. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Goji’s sense of self shattered under the constant psychological torment. He was forced to carry out brutal tasks, his mind being twisted to believe that nothing mattered except the orders he was given. His humanity was slowly replaced with a cold, mechanical obedience, and he became a perfect weapon for Dr. Machinist’s plans.

For an entire year, Goji was tortured—electrocuted, starved, and forced to perform experiments that pushed him beyond human endurance. He was subjected to inhuman conditions, with no respite, no relief, and no hope. He was reconditioned, molded into a ruthless killer, his memories of a peaceful life wiped clean by the endless torment he suffered.

And then came the final stage of his transformation—the moment he was reborn not as Goji, but as the Third Commander. The boy who had been taken was gone. In his place was a soulless machine—a cyborg designed to obey Dr. Machinist’s every command without question. Goji’s old identity, his past, everything that had made him human, was buried beneath layers of metal and programming.

But even as the darkness of his new existence consumed him, a flicker of who he once was remained deep inside. The boy who had walked home that evening, the boy who had dreamed of a future—he was still there, hidden beneath the cold exterior. That spark, though faint, still burned inside him. And one day, it would rise. One day, the pain and torment would give birth to something else—something that might remind Goji of the life he had lost.

For now, though, he was nothing more than a tool—a weapon to be wielded by Dr. Machinist, with no will of his own. His mind, his body, his very soul, all belonged to the man who had made him this way. Goji had become the third commander, a deadly weapon with no name, no past, and no future—just a machine that existed to obey.

And in that cruel reality, Goji was left to wonder if the boy he had once been would ever find his way back—or if he was lost forever. Only time would tell.