My fist snapped out in a sharp jab at Val's nose. Instead of tumbling away as he should have in my ever-growing fantasies of beating him, the old man moved into the blow, depleting it of any strength

His knee came up in a painful kiss on my ribs. I blocked with a palm, leaning forwards I threw my shoulder into Val's chest, sending him teetering backward.

"Good, good . . . " Val began slowly. "You're getting better. I like It." He said with that same sickening smirk on his face.

'God how I wish I could bitch slap it away,' I thought.

"Now, before you start raping me in your 'fantasies'"—I scowled at his attempt at humor—"we have something important to do." He said, wiping a drop of sweat trickling down his forehead.

He took notice of the sweat, frowned, and sighed, "I'm getting old."

He twirled around and limped towards the . . . Doctor—I despised that doctor, he'd shoved a long needle in my spine.

I let out a dry chuckle and walked up to the sickening bastards before following behind them quietly.

For now.

There was a reason I was being obedient—I hated it. Val was, I didn't want to admit, a good teacher. He was adept in hand-to-hand combat.

Something that I sucked at

***

'What is the meaning of this,' I thought.

A bloodied gagged man tied to a chair let out a startled muffled cry, snort, and tears marred his face.

He'd gone through torture, I deduced. The dried blood was a clear indication of that.

"Kill him," Val ordered.

Walking on a rope he was, I did not like being ordered around, he knew that well. Biting off the impulse of bashing his face continuously, I bit my lower lip.

I hated being ordered around.

On the table in front of the tied man, lay many kinds of torture 'accessories'. I picked up the knife on the table, suppressing the urge to shove it down Val's eyes—as that would only be detrimental to me.

I stared straight into his eyes.

I had killed before, without a doubt, but the pleading in his eyes gave me the feeling as if a lump was stuck in my throat. A clear indication that I did not like to kill. I had never killed an innocent—except one.

As the sickening thought of killing that one innocent soldier plagued me, I heard a whisper far near my ear than I liked.

"S-517, I said kill him," Val ordered and I clenched my teeth in anger.

'I don't like being ordered around,' I thought yet again.

I took a step forward, staring at the man's bloody and messed-up face. He should be suffering, I lied to myself. I should . . . free him of his misery, I tried to make it acceptable.

With the thought acting as a catalyst for my smidgen of guilt, I stood in from of him, ready to add another life to my sins, just like the hundreds before.

I sighed, slicing the man's throat in a single, long, and clean slit. Life seeped out of the man's already dulled eyes, and I couldn't help but think.

'What else would they make me do?'

I had killed before, so It wouldn't bother me as much. Now, that man could have been a murderer, but in my eyes—to me—he was innocent.

I sighed, pushing back the impulse to just pummel the knife into Val and the guards standing behind before turning around and leaving for my room . . . My cell, of course, with a guard in tow.

They were done with me for today, I knew, that's why I hadn't stayed a second longer.

***

The void was empty and motionless around me. The darkness rippled as I walked up to the familiar-looking chair, and the computer—yes, I figured it was, through the popped knowledge—a mouse, and a keyboard.

I sat down, my hands on the mouse and the keyboard respectively as holographic objects blinked into existence around me out of nowhere.

'Why do I even need a computer with the mouse and keyboard?' I thought. Confused as to why I needed them in the first place if they were to vanish the moment the holograms appeared.

Sighing, I searched for a familiar value amongst millions, billions, or even trillions of others, and it appeared in front of me in but a mere second.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

[161.124343 cm]

I tapped on it, and a "|" appeared, blinking in and out.

As the keyboard manifested, I quickly changed the value to 165 cm, before clicking on [Enter].

I waited in anticipation, waiting for something to happen, for something to change. But alas, nothing did and appeared in front of me a single sentence.

[Not enough Terminus Points (TP) for the exchange.]

I sighed in defeat, slumping back on the soft chair beneath.

'It isn't working,' I thought.

It had not worked, not even once, and that was driving me crazy. I knew that I needed Terminus Points (TP)—whatever that was—to change the values and properties in my code of existence.

Pummeling the glaring thoughts of being nothing but a piece of code behind my mind, I sighed again, ready to leave my . . . let's call it subconscious.

***

Felisha Martinez took a sip from the glass in her hand.

It burned going down, settling warm and heavy in the depths of her stomach. Some of her surprise must have slipped through her face as Val's lips twitched in a soft yet prideful smile.

"Seldsene . . . " Val began slowly, "one of the rarest kind; I'm not surprised you've never had it, Miss. Felisha." He raised his glass, shaking it slightly before tipping it down in one gulp.

"Made with a rare ingredient"—scowling due to the taste, he continued—" found in Transor near the central dominion. A rare delicacy"—he said, pouring her glass to the brim—", especially for you."

"So, how's it going with the new specimen?" she asked, taking another sip, relishing in the taste.

"He . . . " Val began slowly. "It's going well, he's under control; the brainwashing through the sedatives is working," Val said.

"He's like a program, you give input, his brain processes it, finds the most optimal solution, then it acts to give output—without emotional interferences, of course."

"Good," Felisha commented. "How much is the synchronization rate?" she asked, taking a small sip.

"79%" Kal answered, "just a bit more and he'll be nothing more than a mindless puppet for us. Remnants of the individual known as 'Aidan Cyrus' still remain"—at her level gaze, he quickly added—"but that's just a mere 21 percentage-"

"I want him above 90, at the latest Monday" Felisha ordered.

Val's face fell drastically, "but, Miss. Felisha, the synchronization is a delicate process, we can't rush it. We need more time than just a week. Or we'd break him otherwise." He insisted.

Felisha listened to him quietly, then after pondering, she asked. "When did the Phoenix of Akhor become so soft?" she hummed.

Val smiled humorlessly, "that was a long time ago, Miss. Felisha, you should know that." Then, as his gaze turned colder and colder until it sent a chill down her spine, he continued. "As for becoming soft . . . " He hummed, "I wouldn't say I've become soft, more like, rusty." He said, standing up.

"Ok, then how about I pay your daughter a visit, Mr. Val?" she hummed, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Hmm? What do you say," she asked gently.

The implications behind her words were far from gentle, though. And Val knew that all too well

"Believe me, Miss. Felisha," He began slowly. "You don't want to hurry, the boy's perfect for us. A perfect medicine, a perfect specimen, a perfect soldier, a perfect being, and soon, he'll become perfect enough to lead us—I'll make sure he is, and there will be only one goal in his mind . . . "

Stepping over to the door, Val left but not without leaving his words lingering in her mind, making her ponder in amusement.

"Peace, our own Ataraxis"

(A/N: OK, while I know that Ataraxis means 'the absence of mental stress or anxiety' I'm taking it as more of a synonym for 'peace' in this novel, so do keep that in mind whenever this word pops up)

Val took off for the specimen's cell. Even though he'd said that rushing would be detrimental, he had no other choice. He might've said that a week was too less, but he did not have abundant time.

His daughter needed medication lest she dies.

'I'm not willing to take the risk,' he thought.

Risks, especially relating to his daughter's well-being, were something he did not take.

Ordering some guards on his way, who followed behind him, he reached the specimen's cell.

As the door opened, he took a gun from a guard's hand and walked in.

Only the sound of a blaring shot resounded following which silence ensued.

***

Darkness.

Complete, utter darkness.

Panic overcame my mind, leaving nothing behind.

I was lost . . . In eternal darkness, a void.

'I don't remember jumping into my subconsciousness,' I thought, peering around my surroundings.

If it wasn't my 'subconsciousness', then what was it? It was more of a rhetorical question as I found myself on a familiar chair, a table in front of me, atop which lay several familiar things.

That was far from what caught my attention, though. Several warning signs plastered over the screen in front of me blared in red light as if to warn me of something ominous.

'Okay,' I thought, resting my hands on their respective place and my vision warped before I found myself amidst countless holograms.

Before I could do anything, something manifested before my very vision. A rectangular shape, the screen shimmered in a blood-red hue, blaring in the soundless void nothing but an ear-piercing noise.

[WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!] [WARNING!]

The holograms around me disappeared, and countless warning signs and screens appeared in their stead, shimmering with a flickering blood-red color.

I frowned, annoyed at the ringing sound eating away at my ears and then swayed the warnings away, replacing which, only a single [Continue] stood.

I tapped and read the contents appearing before me before my eyes flared in fear and disbelief.

[The subject's code is being forcefully rewritten. In the situation that nothing is done to delay and/or stop the process, the subject: #10994773892 — Aidan Cyrus's main 'personality' and the 'state of being' would be replaced with the re-coded version. The subject is advised to prevent that situation as the mark of Terminus has been detected on the subject, making it important.]

'W-what?' I thought, fully bewildered and scared shitless. Code re-written? Replaced state of being? Personality? What the f*ck was going on?

After assessing the situation, I tried to calm myself, but even the super secret calm-your-nerves cat technique failed to work.

'What do I do? What do I do?!' I thought, raising my hand to my mouth and biting my nail continuously.

As the screen before me disappeared and got replaced by another, I stiffened.

[The rewritten code, also referred to as but not limited to 'brainwashing', is taking over the main code. The Synchronization between the rewritten code and the original is rapidly increasing. If the synchronization is to hit 100%, the subject: #10994773892 — Aidan Cyrus, would be replaced by another, which, In essence, is the same being—as it is rewritten on the already written code of existence—but the control of the current individual known as 'Aidan Cyrus' would be replaced by the other.]

My pupils constricted and the muscles around my stomach tensed as an arctic chill ran past my spine.

[Synchronization rate: 81% ]