I didn't expect to die like that. Not after everything. Not after clawing my way through the darkness of Black Iron, dodging death at every turn, and unraveling the horror that Jacob Lee had become a reluctant witness to. Yet, there it was-the end.

The Biophage consumed my strength, the virus gnawing at the edges of my sanity. I saw Dani's face-determined, fierce-fading into the shadows as I collapsed in the debris. The transmission that should've been salvation turned into a whispered curse as the cold darkness wrapped around me. That should've been the end.

But death is a funny thing. It's not always the end you think it is.

I woke to the sound of metal on metal-a dull, rhythmic clanging that felt like a pulse in my ears. Except it wasn't my ears. Not really. It was something else, something... mechanical. My first thought was hell. Maybe the Biophage hadn't just killed me. Maybe it dragged me somewhere worse.

My second thought? I wasn't dead.

A sterile white light burned overhead, forcing my eyes to adjust. No-not my eyes. They didn't burn or ache like they should have. I tried to move, to sit up, but my body responded like a stranger answering a question meant for me. Slow. Stiff. Too strong, yet too precise.

"Welcome back, Jacob Lee." The voice was cold, clinical, and it echoed as if bouncing off polished steel walls. "Your survival is remarkable. Your potential... unprecedented."

I turned my head-or what I thought was my head-toward the voice. A figure stood in shadow, the only human thing in a room filled with machines that hummed and clicked like they were alive. The figure stepped closer, revealing a sharp, angular face that looked carved from ice. She smiled. Not warm. Not cruel. Just... indifferent.

"Who the hell are you?" My voice rasped, more growl than question.

She tilted her head slightly. "I'm Dr. Elara Wynne, Director of the PostHuman Corporation. And you, Mr. Lee, are the first step toward a better humanity."

A better humanity. The words hit me like a blow to the gut-or what used to be my gut. I glanced down and froze. What I saw wasn't flesh and bone anymore. My chest gleamed with a dull metallic sheen, intricate patterns carved into the surface. My hands-no, not hands, claws of blackened steel-flexed with a fluidity that wasn't natural.

"You're awake earlier than expected," she continued, her voice steady, unfazed by my panic. "But that's good. You're going to need time to adjust. We've made... significant improvements."

"Improvements?" My voice cracked, the rage building. "What did you do to me?"

Dr. Wynne's smile widened, just a fraction. "We saved you, Mr. Lee. The UJC sought evolution through biology. We seek something greater-something more controlled, more perfect. You are our proof of concept."

Her words swirled in my mind, each syllable sharp as broken glass. Proof of concept. I wasn't human anymore. I was something else, something they made. And whatever they wanted from me, I knew one thing: I wasn't going to give it willingly.

The clanging sound echoed again, deeper this time. Somewhere beyond the sterile room, a mechanical roar rumbled like thunder. Dr. Wynne glanced at the sealed door, her expression tightening.

"Your integration process isn't finished, Mr. Lee. But we don't have time to wait." She turned back to me, her smile gone. "Welcome to your new life. Try not to waste it."

And with that, the lights went out, plunging me into a darkness that felt far too familiar.

The darkness wasn't the same as before. It wasn't the cold, wet black of Black Iron's corridors, or the cloying shadow that followed the Biophage. This was sterile. Engineered. A void that hummed faintly, as though the darkness itself were alive and watching.

I forced myself to move-or tried to. My limbs didn't respond like they used to, stiff and alien, but with a strength that made the steel slab beneath me groan. The sound echoed in the oppressive silence. My breathing-was it even breathing?-came in mechanical hisses, steady and unyielding.

Then came the voices.

"Integration protocol at seventy-three percent," a disembodied voice announced, clinical and detached. "Neurological stability holding. Cognitive alignment... questionable."

I didn't have time to dwell on what cognitive alignment meant. My senses were sharper now-enhanced, somehow. I could hear faint footsteps beyond the room, soft as whispers on polished floors. I could smell ozone and metal, the sterile scent of machines that never rested. And I could feel it: the low hum of power coursing through my body, as if I were connected to the room itself.

Get it together, Lee, I thought, forcing myself upright. My movements were jerky, unnatural, like a puppet with tangled strings. But I was moving.

The sterile room stretched before me, all smooth metal walls and blinding white lights. The only exit was a single door, its edges glowing faintly with an ominous red light. I staggered toward it, each step a clumsy negotiation between what I remembered of walking and what my new body wanted to do.

The door hissed open before I reached it, the red light flickering to green. Beyond it, the corridor stretched endlessly, lined with glass panels that revealed laboratories filled with strange machines and stranger experiments.

In one, a human figure floated in a tank, its limbs twisted and augmented with gleaming metal. Its face was obscured by wires and tubing, but its chest rose and fell in slow, unnatural rhythm.

In another, a creature writhed on a table, its body a grotesque fusion of Biophage flesh and mechanical implants. The thing's glowing red eyes locked onto me as I passed, its mouth opening in a soundless scream before a needle plunged into its neck, silencing it.

The corridor felt like a nightmare brought to life, a twisted parody of evolution where flesh and steel merged into something horrifying. And at the end of it all, I could feel the pull of something greater-a presence that waited for me.

"Jacob Lee," the voice of Dr. Wynne crackled through unseen speakers, calm and measured. "You've always been a survivor. That's why you were chosen. But survival requires evolution, and evolution demands sacrifice. You've already taken the first step. Now let's see if you're ready for the rest."

I stopped, my metal claws flexing involuntarily. "I didn't agree to this," I growled, my voice tinged with a mechanical distortion that wasn't there before.

"You didn't have to," Wynne replied, her voice almost amused. "Humanity doesn't evolve by asking permission. It evolves by necessity. And you, Jacob, are necessary."

The floor beneath me trembled, and a deep, guttural roar echoed from somewhere ahead. The glass panels around me began to flicker, the creatures inside stirring as alarms blared to life.

"Consider this your first test," Wynne said, her voice growing distant as the corridor plunged into chaos. "Good luck, Mr. Lee. You're going to need it."

And then, the glass shattered.

The glass explodes outward, shards cascading like a rain of daggers. I move on instinct-or maybe it's the programming buried in my new limbs. My arms shoot up to shield my face, but the impact doesn't come. Instead, the fragments strike my metallic forearms, bouncing harmlessly away.

A low growl vibrates through the air, deep and primal. I lower my arms just in time to see one of the creatures lurch free from its shattered tank. Its body is a grotesque mix of Biophage sinew and glinting machinery, pistons and cables writhing where muscle and bone should be. Its eyes burn with an unnatural red light, and its jaws split open, revealing rows of jagged, uneven teeth.

It charges.

I sidestep-clumsy, but faster than I expect. My body feels wrong, too strong and too light, as though I'm an intruder in my own skin. The creature slams into the wall behind me, denting the metal with a sickening crunch.

Before it can recover, I lash out. My arm moves in a blur, and my claws tear into its side. Sparks fly as steel meets steel, and the creature lets out an unearthly scream. I pull back, my claws dripping with something black and viscous that hisses when it hits the floor.

Another roar echoes down the corridor. I turn to see more of them emerging from their broken containment cells, their misshapen bodies illuminated by the strobe of the emergency lights.

"Fantastic," I mutter, my voice reverberating with an unsettling mechanical edge.

They come at me all at once, a writhing mass of flesh and metal. I barely have time to think. My body reacts on its own, moving faster than my mind can process. I swing, dodge, and strike again, each movement precise and devastating.

One of the creatures leaps at me, its claws extended. I catch it mid-air, my enhanced strength snapping its spine with a single motion. Another lunges for my legs, but I bring my foot down hard, crushing its skull into the floor.

For a moment, the corridor falls silent except for the crackle of severed wiring and the distant wail of alarms. I'm panting-or at least I think I am. My chest rises and falls, but there's no sense of strain, no burn in my lungs. It's an imitation of breath, nothing more.

The voice of Dr. Wynne cuts through the silence. "Impressive, Mr. Lee. Your reflexes are exceeding projections. It seems your integration is progressing faster than anticipated."

"Glad you're impressed," I growl, wiping the black fluid from my claws onto the wall. "Now get me out of here."

"Out?" She almost laughs. "Jacob, you misunderstand. This isn't a prison. It's a proving ground. You're exactly where you need to be."

The lights flicker again, and I hear it: a deep, rumbling sound from further down the corridor. It's heavier than the others, slower, deliberate. The floor vibrates with each step it takes.

"This next one will be more... challenging," Wynne says, her tone clinical, as if she's observing a lab experiment. "Think of it as an opportunity to test your limits."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I grit my teeth, the sound of the approaching creature grows louder. My claws flex involuntarily, and for the first time, I feel the weight of what I've become.

Whatever waits for me in the darkness, one thing is clear: there's no going back.

The ground shakes again, this time with more force, like the very foundation of the corridor is buckling under the weight of whatever is approaching. My enhanced senses pick up the faintest vibrations in the walls, the subtle shift of air as something massive lumbers closer. The smell of burning oil and ozone fills my nostrils, mingling with the metallic tang of blood that coats my claws.

I'm ready. At least, I tell myself that. My fingers twitch, itching for the thrill of the fight, a feeling that isn't quite mine anymore. It's mechanical-part of the thing I've become.

Then it steps into view.

It's a towering monstrosity, easily twice my height, with long, spindly limbs covered in patches of muscle and gleaming metal. Its face is a nightmare-a twisted blend of a human skull and mechanical plating, its eyes glowing an eerie green as it locks onto me. It growls, a deep rumble that vibrates through my bones. This is no simple hybrid. This is something far worse-a fusion of Biophage madness and PHC's twisted vision of perfection.

It strides forward, its footfalls shaking the floor, its claws clicking on the metal like a predator savoring the kill.

"Is this what you wanted, Wynne?" I call out, my voice a mechanical rasp. I don't expect an answer, but I get one.

"Yes," her voice crackles through the speakers. "This is the test, Jacob. This is where you prove what you're made of."

The creature roars, and I don't wait. My body surges forward, moving on its own, faster than my mind can process. The creature swipes with one claw, and I duck just in time, the air around me stirring with the force of its strike. I bring my clawed arm up, catching the side of its torso, metal screeching against metal. The impact sends a shockwave through my arm, a brief moment of pain-real pain, the kind I hadn't felt since waking up-but I don't falter.

The creature howls in anger, but I'm already moving again. It swings its other arm at me, a blur of steel and muscle, and I dodge to the side, barely evading the strike. My enhanced vision picks out the minute details in the chaos-the flex of its limbs, the way its chest rises with each ragged breath, the subtle shift in its stance as it prepares to strike again.

I've got this. My mind is clearer now. There's no fear, no hesitation. Just instinct and calculation.

I lunge forward, using the creature's own momentum against it, and I drive my claws deep into its side. It roars in pain, stumbling back, but I don't give it a chance to recover. I strike again, faster this time, slashing across its chest. Sparks fly, and a stream of dark, viscous fluid erupts from the wound, coating the floor.

The creature lets out a low, guttural growl and swings wildly, desperate now. But it's slow. Too slow. I've learned its rhythm. Its weakness. I sidestep, spinning behind it, and deliver a final, brutal strike to the back of its neck.

The impact resonates through the room as the creature crumples to the ground with a heavy thud, its body twitching once before going still.

I stand over it, chest heaving-though there's no breath, no strain, just the mechanical hum of my systems running at full capacity.

"Impressive," Wynne's voice comes again, her tone almost... approving. "You've exceeded my expectations, Jacob. Perhaps the next phase can begin sooner than planned."

I don't care about her plans anymore. I don't care about the test or whatever they've turned me into.

I want out. I want to burn this place to the ground.

The thought is clearer now, stronger. It's not just the machine parts of me that want revenge. It's the part of me that's still human. I know what I've become, and I'll make them regret it.

"Is that all you've got?" I sneer, looking down at the fallen creature.

Wynne doesn't respond, but the doors behind me hiss open.

I don't need her to tell me what's coming next. I can feel it.

The fight has just begun.

The doors hiss open, and a flood of lights spills into the corridor, casting sharp shadows across the wreckage of the creature's body. My enhanced senses pick up movement-too many to count, coming from both sides, pouring into the hallway like a tidal wave of metal and flesh. They're not like the last one. Smaller, quicker, a pack of them. And they're circling, assessing.

I don't need to wait for them to attack. I launch myself forward, my claws slashing through the air in a blur. The first of the creatures doesn't even see me coming-too focused on its own predatory movements as it charges toward me. I tear through it, slicing its throat open with a clean swipe. The blood-or whatever the hell it is-splashes across my chest, and I barely flinch.

Two more leap at me from opposite directions, their jaws snapping, claws outstretched. I bring my arms up, blocking the first strike with my metal limbs, and twist to avoid the second. My foot connects with its chest, sending it sprawling to the floor. Before it can recover, I'm on it, my claws driving deep into its ribs, puncturing the mechanical heart that powers its twisted existence.

But there's no time to savor the kill. The remaining pack moves in like wolves, faster than I anticipated, their movements erratic but precise. They come from all angles, a blur of motion, and I'm forced to react on pure instinct.

A bite rips across my shoulder, the teeth scraping against the hardened surface of my armor. Pain flares, real pain this time, a reminder of what I've lost. I slam my fist into the creature's skull, caving it in with a sickening crack, but another takes its place. The weight of their numbers starts to wear on me.

I can't fight them all. Not like this.

"Wynne," I growl through gritted teeth, barely managing to hold my ground. "This isn't what I signed up for!"

No response. Just silence.

But the silence doesn't last. The doors at the far end of the corridor slam open, and the sound of heavy footsteps fills the space.

I don't need to look to know what's coming.

This is it.

I brace myself, my body adapting faster than I can think. The pack is closing in, but the new threat is too big, too strong. It's the one I sensed earlier, the one whose footsteps shook the floor. The floor trembles with each step as it draws closer, and I know I don't have time to deal with these smaller creatures.

I cut down the last of them with a series of quick, brutal slashes, then turn, my sensors honing in on the new presence. It steps into view-massive, towering over the remains of the pack like some kind of nightmare come to life. This is no Biophage hybrid. No, this is something worse.

It's a PHC experiment, engineered for nothing but war. The creature is a gargantuan mass of muscle and cybernetic enhancements, with armored plating that glints under the lights. Its arms are as thick as my torso, and its head is a grotesque hybrid of man and machine, its face twisted in a permanent snarl. The moment it sees me, it roars-a sound that shakes my bones.

"Finally, something worth fighting," I mutter under my breath, my voice distorted by the machinery in my throat.

It charges, and I don't hesitate. I run toward it, my legs pumping harder than I ever thought they could, propelling me toward the behemoth with a speed that shocks even me.

I duck under its swinging arm, narrowly avoiding its crushing blow, and leap up onto its back, my claws digging into the thick plating of its armor. The creature roars in fury, shaking violently, but I hold on with a tenacity born from something deep inside me-something more than just the machine.

I hear the screech of metal against metal as I twist my claws, searching for any weakness. The creature thrashes again, but I won't let go. I find what I'm looking for-a crack in its plating, just beneath its shoulder. With a snarl, I drive my claws in deep, tearing through the armor like paper.

The creature howls in agony, but it doesn't stop. It turns, throwing me off with a burst of raw strength, sending me crashing into the opposite wall. The impact rattles my bones-if I still have bones-but I don't stay down.

I'm already moving again, my mind laser-focused, my body anticipating every movement of the creature. It charges once more, and I meet it head-on, ducking under its massive fist and darting to its side.

I climb its body again, this time with more precision. Its movements are slower, more erratic now, its cybernetic systems fighting to keep up. The weak point I found before is even more vulnerable now. I tear into it, pushing deeper, and a rush of fluids pours out-some metallic, some organic.

It's not enough to stop it. Not yet.

But I'm close.

"Wynne," I shout, fury mixing with the mechanical distortion of my voice, "I'm done playing your game. Let me out of here, or I'll bring this whole place down."

The creature's roar fills the hallway as it makes one final, desperate attempt to throw me off. But I'm ready this time. I dig my claws in and twist. The plating cracks under the pressure, and with one final, savage twist, the creature's head jerks violently to the side.

It falls, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

I stand over it, chest heaving-not from exertion, but from something more primal.

And I wait.

For the next wave. For the answers I still don't have. But mostly, for the reckoning that's coming.

The creature's lifeless body lies in a heap at my feet, its massive form casting long shadows across the corridor. For a moment, everything is still-too still. The alarms have quieted, the lights flicker erratically, and the faint hum of the facility feels like a distant memory.

I stand there, my claws dripping with whatever remains of the creature, my metal fingers still clenched into fists. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving behind a gnawing emptiness, like the remnants of a dream fading into the waking world.

"Wynne," I growl again, my voice crackling over the speakers, a sharp edge of frustration cutting through the mechanical distortion. "You're done with your little game. You've got one chance-one chance to explain what the hell you've done to me."

A pause. Silence.

And then, her voice, cold and clinical as ever, fills the space. "Jacob, you still don't understand. You never will, not yet. This is only the beginning."

The words hang in the air like a warning, a promise of something far worse to come.

"I don't care about your plans," I snap, my voice raw, edged with fury. "What have you made me into?"

"You were chosen, Jacob. You were always meant for this. For transcendence." Her voice seems to soften, as if she's speaking to a child who doesn't understand his place in the world. "PHC has done what the UJC failed to do. We are evolution realized. You-you-are our proof. The next step in human progress."

My mind races, trying to make sense of it. Evolution, transcendence-what the hell does that even mean? What have they turned me into?

The silence stretches on, thick and suffocating.

Then, without warning, the floor trembles again. This time, it's different-a low rumble, followed by the sound of something large and heavy moving through the facility. My instincts flare. Something's coming.

I pivot, my body already tensing, every muscle-every joint-reacting before my mind can even process it. From the far end of the corridor, a shadow falls, stretching long and ominous. And then, the door at the other end of the hall hisses open, a figure stepping into the flickering light.

This one is different.

Where the others were hybrids-twisted, grotesque mockeries of life and machine-this one stands tall, composed, fully human in appearance, but with the unmistakable sheen of artificial enhancement. His eyes glow a soft blue, brighter than any human should, and his skin is pale, almost luminous in the harsh light. His movements are fluid, controlled. He's not some mindless weapon. No, this one is something else entirely.

"Mr. Lee," he says, his voice smooth, calm, and filled with an eerie certainty. "I'm not here to fight you. Not yet."

I don't move, but every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready for the inevitable. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Dr. Cale Rhen. I'm the one who initiated your-transformation." He smiles slightly, as if pleased by his own handiwork. "And I'm here to offer you an opportunity."

"Opportunity?" I sneer, my metal claws flexing involuntarily. "I've had enough of your opportunities. What did you do to me?"

"What we did to you," he says, his gaze sharpening, "was give you what you always wanted. A way out. A way to leave Black Iron behind, to escape the prison they created for you. But you're more than that now, Jacob. You're more than human. You're the next step. The future."

The next step. The future.

My mind races, the weight of his words pressing against the stillness of my thoughts. He's not wrong about one thing-I don't belong in this place anymore. Black Iron is gone, but I'm still here, living in this shell of flesh and metal. There's nothing left for me. Nothing but whatever this thing is that I've become.

"You don't get it," I growl, shaking my head. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't choose this."

Rhen's eyes narrow slightly, and he takes a step closer, his presence exuding a quiet confidence that sets my nerves on edge. "But you're here now, Jacob. And you have a choice. We all do. You can join us, help us finish what we started. Or..." His smile widens, but there's something cruel in it. "Or you can stay in this broken body of yours, playing at being human, while the rest of us leave the past behind."

I feel the pull. The temptation to embrace whatever it is they've offered. To evolve. To leave this shattered version of myself behind. But something in me-the last flicker of humanity that remains-pushes back against it.

I don't know what I've become, but I won't let them take me any further down this road.

"Your transcendence," I spit, "is nothing but a death sentence."

Rhen's smile fades, but his gaze hardens. He takes another step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. "Then we'll see how long you last, Jacob. You were made for this. I made you for this."

Before I can react, he raises a hand. A low hum fills the air, and I feel something-no, someone-inside me begin to stir. The machine parts, the metal plating that covers my skin, pulses with a deep, almost predatory rhythm. They're trying to take control. They want me to obey.

I fight it.

I fight it with everything I have left.