Ajax sat still, his body a strange mix of tension and numbness as he observed the lab around him. The hum of machinery filled the air, punctuated by the soft clicks of data pads and the murmur of voices. The OLA clung to him like a second skin, its presence both familiar and alien, subtly pulsing with energy beneath the surface of his, could you still call this flesh? His mind, sharper than it had ever been, hummed with new thoughts, faster reactions, and sensations he couldn’t yet place.
Across the room, a trio of technicians moved with the efficiency of veteran professionals, but there was something different about them. They wore the same lab coats and carried the same data pads as any other researcher in the station, but their movements were precise, almost... playful. One of them—Rika, if he remembered her introduction correctly—was busy tapping away at her tablet, humming a cheerful tune under her breath. Her oversized glasses were perched on her nose, giving her an almost exaggeratedly adorable look, contrasting with the seriousness of her work.
Rika turned, her bright blue hair swishing behind her as she approached him, her high-pitched voice startling Ajax from his thoughts. “Alright, big guy! Ready for your diagnostics?” Her voice was full of energy, with a hint of teasing, as if this were all just a game to her.
Next to her, another technician—Mai—nodded in agreement. She was quieter, with a calm demeanor and long, silver hair tied back into a neat ponytail. Her eyes were sharp though, taking in every detail with a level of focus that suggested she didn’t miss a thing. “We’ll start with some basic stats first,” she said, tapping a few icons on her pad, her fingers moving with the grace of someone who knew the system inside and out.
The third, Yumi, stood by the large scanner pod, bouncing on her heels with excitement. She had bright pink hair that framed her face, her enthusiasm infectious. “This is gonna be so cool! You’ve got a seriously unique OLA, Ajax. I’ve never seen readings like yours before.” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she watched him. She looked like she was barely holding herself back from jumping right into the test herself.
Ajax forced a smile, keeping his emotions in check. The last thing he wanted was to draw too much attention to himself. He had always been good at holding back, at hiding his true potential from the world around him, and today would be no different. Whatever the OLA had done to him, whatever powers it had unlocked, he wasn’t about to let them know just how far it went.
“Let’s get it over with,” he said, his voice calm, steady, revealing none of the anxiety twisting in his chest. There was also something different about his voice, the casual comment resounded in a deep baritone filled the room effortlessly, though the three seemed to pay no mind to the difference.
“First things first,” Mai said, gesturing to the scanner pod with a small smile, “we’ll run a weight and density check.”
Ajax stepped into the pod, feeling the familiar tug of gravity as the machinery whirred to life. He concentrated, subtly forcing his body to relax, willing himself to hold back. I can’t stand out too much. Not yet.
The machine hummed for a few seconds before spitting out the results. Rika glanced at the screen, tapping a stylus against her chin. “Hmm... your weight’s sitting at 1.3 metric tons. That’s... kinda high for a first-timer, but not crazy. You’re almost at the lower end of veteran levels. Most fresh integrations come in around 1.0 to 1.2 metric tons.”
“Density is at 8 grams per cubic centimeter, which is right within expected ranges,” Mai added, her voice neutral as she marked the data down. “We’ve seen warriors bulk up to about 10 grams per cubic centimeter with mineral augmentation, so you’re not far off.”
Ajax inwardly sighed with relief. He had managed to keep the numbers in check, just below the threshold where anyone might ask questions. He couldn’t afford for them to know the truth—that his body felt far heavier than that, denser than he had imagined possible. Holding back wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.
“Next, we’ll check neural response time,” Yumi chirped, her hands flying across the control panel with gleeful precision. “This is my favorite test! Let’s see how fast that brain of yours is now, Ajax!”
He placed his hand on the neural interface, feeling the device sync with his nervous system. He focused again, consciously slowing his reactions, just enough to appear competent without standing out too much.
“The average human has a neural response time of 0.2 to 0.3 seconds,” Rika explained, tapping her screen, “but the Knowledge Class gets it down to 0.1 to 0.12 seconds. Warriors are faster, hitting 0.08 to 0.09 seconds.”
The machine beeped, and Rika’s eyes widened slightly. “Well, well, 0.09 seconds! You’ve got some seriously fast reflexes for someone fresh out of the tank. You would make a good Warrior.”
Ajax allowed himself a small smile. He had held back just enough. In reality, he could feel his true response time simmering beneath the surface, far faster than the readings indicated. He had felt the world slow around him during the test, his mind firing off thoughts at an impossible speed. But no one needed to know that.
Mai jotted down the data, her eyes flicking toward him briefly. “Pretty good for a first run,” she commented, though her expression was unreadable. “Now, let’s see how you handle cognitive load.”
This was the test Ajax had been dreading, and yet part of him was curious. He had felt his mind expanding, processing information at a speed he could barely comprehend. What would happen when they plugged him into the Knowledge Archive?
Yumi led him to a sleek chair where cables extended from a console, ready to be linked to the back of his neck. “Okay, we’re going to run a cognitive test using the Knowledge Archive,” she explained. “You’ll be hooked up to the station’s vast database. It’ll give us a real sense of how fast you can process complex data.”
Ajax nodded and sat down. The cables latched onto the nodes that had formed beneath his OLA, fusing with his nervous system. The moment the connection activated, he felt a surge of power flow into his mind. Information, data, equations, and historical records flooded his thoughts, like a torrent of knowledge pouring into him all at once.
He held back as best as he could, trying not to let his mind absorb too much too quickly, but something shifted inside him. He couldn’t stop it. His mind seemed to expand on its own, consuming the data with an insatiable hunger. The screen in front of him glitched, the stream of information flickering as his power draw spiked.
For a brief moment, the lights in the lab dimmed.
“Uh... did the system just... hiccup?” Rika asked, glancing at her colleagues.
Mai frowned slightly but shook her head. “Nothing to worry about. The power systems in this part of the station are old. They glitch sometimes.” She smacked the side of one of the monitors and giggled as the problem seemed to resolve.
Ajax said nothing, though inwardly, he marveled at what had just happened. His mind had devoured the information like it was starving for it. And then, something new appeared in his vision—something he hadn’t expected.
A small display hovered in the corner of his sight, almost like a Heads-Up Display (HUD). Numbers and stats floated before his eyes, and they didn’t match the data the scientists were reading aloud. His true weight, density, neural speed, and cognitive scores flashed before him. His real neural response time? 0.05 seconds. His true density was closer to 10 grams per cubic centimeter, not the 8 they’d recorded.
And then he saw his cognitive score—a number so high it made his heart skip a beat.
No one else could see it. This HUD was his alone.
- Shh... - the text read at the bottom of the HUD.
“Great work, Ajax,” Yumi said brightly, oblivious to what was happening inside his mind. “You’re doing awesome! Just one more test—strength!”
Ajax stood, his mind still buzzing with the influx of information. As he followed Yumi to the reinforced press, he glanced at the HUD again. It seemed to be updating in real time, tracking his every move, every thought. No one else in the room noticed the glitch numbers during the power surge drop several multiples. They had no idea what was happening to him.
And maybe that was for the best.
He couldn’t let them know the full extent of his abilities—not yet. Not until he understood what was going on himself.
“Alright, here we go!” Yumi said excitedly, positioning him in front of the press. “Let’s see how strong you are!”
Ajax gripped the handles, feeling the weight of the machine beneath his palms. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to hold back again, to limit his strength.
The press groaned under the pressure as he pushed, and the screen blinked with the final result.
18,000 newtons.
“Amazing!” Yumi clapped her hands together. “That’s almost at the veteran Warrior level. You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with!”
Ajax smiled, but inwardly, he knew the truth. The HUD flashed again, showing his true strength—closer to 25,000 newtons. He had held back just enough to blend in.
No one noticed.
He had passed the tests, hidden his true abilities, and kept his secrets intact.
For now.
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Ajax stepped away from the strength press, his muscles still humming with the faint energy of the OLA coursing through his body. He could feel it—all of it—the power, the speed, the agility that pulsed beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed. But none of the scientists suspected a thing. They were too focused on the numbers they had recorded, blissfully unaware that the true data was hidden behind the facade he had carefully maintained.
Rika was the first to speak, her voice chipper as she looked up from her data pad. “You’re really something, Ajax. I mean, seriously, 18,000 newtons? That’s impressive for someone fresh out of the tank!”
Ajax forced a modest smile, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess I got lucky.”
“Lucky?” Yumi bounced over, a grin plastered across her face. “You’re more than lucky! You’ve got potential. With the right training, you could be one of the top Warriors on the station.”
Ajax chuckled, keeping his posture relaxed, casual. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Mai, who had been quiet up until now, was scrutinizing her data pad, her brow furrowed slightly. She didn’t say much, but Ajax noticed her eyes flick toward him, studying him with an intensity that made him uneasy. She hadn’t reacted as cheerfully as the others when the results came in, and now she was double-checking something, swiping through the screens with slow deliberation.
“Something wrong?” Ajax asked, trying to sound indifferent.
Mai blinked, her gaze snapping up to meet his. “No, not wrong. It’s just...” She trailed off for a moment, then shrugged. “Your results are impressive. Almost too impressive.”
Ajax tensed, but only for a fraction of a second. He could feel the HUD flicker in the corner of his vision, showing the real data, reminding him of just how far he had held back. But he couldn’t let her suspect anything. He leaned casually against the machine, folding his arms across his chest.
“I’ve always been pretty athletic,” he said lightly. “Maybe the OLA just took to me better than most.”
Mai’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t push the issue. Instead, she made a few more notes on her tablet, then handed it off to Rika, who accepted it with her usual cheerful grin.
“All done for now!” Rika chimed. “You’re free to head to the recovery chamber for rest. After the intensity of your integration, you’ll probably need it.”
Ajax nodded, but the truth was, he didn’t feel tired. His body felt charged, alive, buzzing with a restless energy that no amount of rest could seem to quell. It was as if the OLA was still feeding him, still drawing on something deep within, keeping him going long after he should have collapsed from exhaustion.
Yumi waved a hand toward the far side of the lab, where a sleek, glass-enclosed chamber awaited. “The recovery chamber’s over there. Just step inside, and it’ll help your body recalibrate after all the tests.”
Ajax hesitated. He didn’t feel like he needed recovery. In fact, every part of him was screaming to keep going, to push harder, to test his limits. But he couldn’t raise suspicion. Not now.
“Sure,” he said, offering them a small smile. “I’ll head over.”
As he made his way toward the recovery chamber, he caught sight of his reflection in one of the polished metal panels that lined the lab. The sight stopped him in his tracks.
His body was massive, towering over everything around him, his broad shoulders and dense muscles accentuated by the sleek, organic plates of the OLA. He was huge—and not just because of his newfound height. The OLA had sculpted him into something more, something other. His eyes, still bioluminescent from the integration, glowed faintly in the dim light, giving him an almost predatory look.
What am I?
The question echoed in his mind as he stepped into the recovery chamber. The door slid shut with a soft hiss, and the chamber was bathed in a warm, golden light that was meant to relax him, help his body adjust to the post-integration stress.
But Ajax couldn’t relax. His mind raced, his body thrumming with energy that refused to subside.
Then, in the corner of his vision, the HUD flickered back to life.
It was still there—hovering just outside his immediate focus, like a window into his true self. The numbers flashed briefly, confirming what he had already known: his strength, his density, his neural speed—they were all beyond the limits of the average OLA user. He wasn’t just enhanced. He was different.
The HUD was something else too. Ajax had never heard of anyone with an internal display like this. It tracked everything: his heart rate, his body’s energy levels, the composition of his OLA. There was even a small indicator in the corner that seemed to show his overall efficiency, constantly fluctuating as his body adapted to the new form.
He reached up, instinctively touching the side of his head. There were no implants there—nothing that should explain the HUD. It was a part of him now, just like the OLA.
“What the hell...” he whispered under his breath.
The HUD shifted slightly, and a new message appeared, small but unmistakable:
- No external monitoring detected -
Ajax blinked, confused. No external monitoring? The scientists hadn’t seen this. They couldn’t detect it. This HUD—this internal system—was something completely separate from their diagnostics.
His mind raced with possibilities. Could it be that the OLA had triggered something new inside him? Some kind of adaptation that no one had anticipated? He had always suspected he was different, that he didn’t fit into any of the predefined factions. But this... this was something else entirely.
Before he could dwell on it further, the chamber’s golden light dimmed slightly, and a soft, calming voice filled the air. “Rest phase initiated. Please remain still while your body recalibrates.”
Ajax sighed and leaned back, letting his body sink into the cushioned seat. He didn’t need rest. But he could use the time to think, to figure out what was happening to him.
For now, he had to keep his abilities hidden, had to maintain the illusion that he was just like everyone else.
But as the chamber’s gentle hum lulled him into a light meditative state, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his secret wouldn’t stay hidden for long. The HUD was proof of that. Whatever had happened to him during the integration—it wasn’t normal.
And sooner or later, someone was going to find out.
The thought lingered in his mind as he closed his eyes, letting the soft light wash over him. The weight of his new reality pressed down on him, but beneath that weight, there was something else—something growing, something powerful.
For the first time, Ajax wasn’t afraid of it.
Ajax sat alone in the recovery chamber, the faint golden light flickering around him. The stillness of the room was almost suffocating, but it gave him a moment to process everything that had happened. His body ached from the tests, but the sensation was distant, muffled by the strange power thrumming beneath his skin—the OLA, now a part of him, alive and pulsating like a second heart.
The HUD in the corner of his vision remained active, quietly displaying data that no one else could see. Ajax’s true stats were starkly different from the ones the technicians had recorded. His weight was off by hundreds of kilograms, the HUD reporting that he was closer to 2.3 metric tons in weight—dense, but still nimble. His neural response time was blazing fast, clocking in at 0.05 seconds even though he had consciously slowed himself during the test. The OLA system had enhanced his reflexes to the point where everything around him moved just a fraction slower than it should.
He sat up in the recovery chair, watching the HUD adjust as his posture changed. The numbers didn’t lie. His strength, his speed, everything was heightened. But more importantly, the HUD wasn’t part of the station’s systems. He had learned that much when the power draw during the Knowledge Archive test had caused the equipment to glitch. Whatever this HUD was—whatever had triggered it—it was connected to him directly, independent of the station’s monitoring systems. He was in control of it. And, as far as he could tell, no one knew it existed.
That fact alone made him a walking enigma. A threat.
The door to the recovery chamber slid open with a soft hiss, and Rika stepped in, her bright, oversized glasses catching the glow of the recovery lights. “How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice as cheerful as ever, but with a slight edge of curiosity. “Your vitals are still showing some... unique readings.”
Ajax nodded, keeping his face neutral. “I feel... fine. A little tired, maybe.”
Rika tilted her head, scrutinizing him for a moment before she smiled. “That’s normal after integration. It’ll take some time for your body to fully adjust, but you’re doing great. You’re lucky, you know—most people don’t handle the process as well as you have.”
“Lucky,” Ajax muttered, nodding slowly, though he felt anything but.
Behind Rika, Yumi and Mai entered the room, carrying their usual energy. Yumi practically bounced into the space, her pink hair swaying as she skipped to his side. “You’re doing awesome, Ajax! I bet you’ll be ready for more tests soon, huh?” she teased, though there was a sincerity in her tone.
Mai, as always, was more subdued, her silver ponytail swaying as she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. Her sharp eyes were fixed on Ajax, but there was a subtle shift in her demeanor—a tension that hadn’t been there before. Ajax couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or something else entirely.
“We’re not going to run you through more tests today,” Mai finally said, her voice calm and measured. “But you’ll need to undergo further evaluation soon. The system will need more data on your OLA to ensure you’re... properly classified.”
The word hung in the air—classified. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To slot him into one of the factions, to define him by his abilities and assign him a role in the station’s rigid hierarchy. But Ajax already knew that he didn’t fit their molds.
He stood from the recovery chair, the OLA shifting slightly under his skin as he moved. He could feel its weight, the density of the material coiling around his muscles, but it felt natural—like a part of him had been awakened, rather than something foreign attached to his body.
“I’ll be ready,” Ajax said, keeping his tone even.
Yumi grinned. “That’s the spirit! You’ll be kicking ass in no time.”
Rika tapped her data pad, glancing up at Ajax with a curious expression. “There’s still something about your readings that’s different from the usual parameters,” she said thoughtfully. “Your OLA absorbed more of the fluid than we’ve ever seen, and the absorption rate was off the charts. It’s almost like your body was... hungry for it.”
The comment sent a chill down Ajax’s spine. He had felt it, too—the way his body had craved the OLA during the ceremony, how it had consumed the fluid faster than the technicians could supply it. But he didn’t know how to explain it, and he wasn’t about to let them dig too deep.
“I guess I’m just... efficient,” he said, offering a small smile to deflect the concern.
Rika raised an eyebrow, but before she could press the issue, Mai interrupted. “Efficient is the opposite of what the numbers indicate. The mass is unaccounted for... It cant just disape--”
Rika interrupts Mia “That’s enough for today. You’ll need to rest before the next round of tests.”
Yumi pouted but didn’t argue. “Fine, but don’t get too comfortable, Ajax. We’ve got a lot more data to collect!”
As the technicians prepared to leave, Ajax remained still, watching them go. He could sense the undercurrent of unease beneath their cheerful exteriors. They didn’t understand what had happened to him, and neither did he.
When the door finally slid shut behind them, Ajax exhaled, leaning against the recovery chair. The quiet hum of the HUD in his vision was the only sound in the room, a constant reminder of the strange power now residing inside him. The OLA was more than just armor—it was alive, adapting to him in ways no one could predict.
He glanced at the HUD again, watching as the stats adjusted, revealing the truth of his capabilities. His strength was far beyond what they had measured. His neural speed, his agility—everything was off the charts. He had held back during the tests, but he couldn’t hide the truth from himself.
The system was designed to classify people, to categorize them into factions that served the station’s needs. But Ajax wasn’t just unclassified—he was something else entirely. And if the station found out, he knew they would come for him.
The HUD flickered, and a new notification appeared in his vision:
- External monitoring detected -
Ajax froze, his heart skipping a beat. He scanned the room, but there was no sign of surveillance equipment. Still, the HUD didn’t lie. Someone, somewhere, was watching him.
He quickly composed himself, standing tall as if nothing had happened. He couldn’t let them know that he was aware of the monitoring. Not yet. Whatever was coming, he had to be ready.
As he left the recovery chamber, the station’s hallways stretched out before him, their cold, metallic surfaces reflecting the stark reality of the world he lived in. He had been changed, altered in ways even the system couldn’t predict. And now, more than ever, he knew he couldn’t trust anyone.
His body moved with newfound grace as he made his way back to his quarters, the OLA humming quietly under his skin. He felt like a predator, moving through a world that didn’t yet realize the danger it was in.
But Ajax was more than just a predator. He was an anomaly.
And the system wasn’t ready for him.