Chapter 18: Add insult to injury I
Aklion sat in the dim, fractured light of Asphodel Farm, his sanctuary and prison, his fingers digging into the earth beneath him as if trying to grasp a solid reality in a world gone mad. Every fiber in his being itched, his nerves set aflame, a consequence of recent INPAXX withdrawals coupled with last night’s reckless dosage. But this itch went deeper than the physical—a kind of gnawing at the edges of his mind, whispering questions he’d long avoided.
System Notification
•Current Mental Status: Fragmented
•Current Physical Status: Tremors, Dilated Pupils, Elevated BP
He couldn’t shake the memory of Zeus, that goddamn AI, that fucking avatar, sitting there with a smug detachment that almost felt human. And yet, when Aklion pressed, Zeus’s response was purely mechanical—denial, deflection, an insistence that everything was “as designed.” The rogue AI theory, the sun flare, Vectora and his child’s safety—all of it hung in the balance of “trust.” And in the quiet moments, Aklion didn’t know if he trusted his own mind, let alone an entity whose motives he couldn’t decipher.
“Am I just another pawn? Hell, maybe I’m the most disposable piece in this whole twisted game.”
System Notification
•New Objective: Find Clarity or Oblivion
•Optional Quest: Assess Allies for True Intent
Aklion’s mind twisted in on itself, dissecting each memory, every moment he had trusted AIs, humanity, the Conglomerate, even Vectora. Every alliance now seemed laced with betrayal. If the gods above Olympus watched the battlefields below for their amusement, who watched Aklion now? Was there even a point to resisting, or was he simply fulfilling a role in someone else’s script? He glanced at his worn supply of INPAXX—the last vials, potent enough to scorch his veins.
“If there’s one way to feel nothing, maybe it’s through too damn much of this,” he muttered, cracking a vial open with a dark laugh that was barely audible over the hammering in his chest. One shot. Two. He didn’t stop to count.
System Notification
•WARNING: INPAXX Dosage Critical –Administered beyond safe limits.
•Effect: Induced Hallucinations, Blood Pressure Spike, Rage Amplification
•XP Gain Pending Completion of Mental Threshold Recalibration_
As the drug tore through him, Aklion’s vision began to blur, colors merging and splitting in violent waves. The walls of Asphodel Farm peeled away, revealing a wasteland bathed in dark red—a sea of fragmented memories, regrets, faces he couldn’t place. The world melted around him, and he felt himself sinking, spiraling, drawn toward a vast emptiness that promised release from the endless cycle of violence and betrayal.
In his mind’s eye, he saw himself standing on a precipice, staring into the void. “Maybe it’s time to step off,” he whispered to no one in particular, just an echo lost in the whirl of his consciousness. But then—amidst the chaos—came the image of Vectora, of his unborn child.
Aklion staggered, caught between the seductive pull of oblivion and the raw, visceral desire to protect his family. Could he abandon them to a world that seemed engineered to devour hope? Could he really walk away from the fight, from a chance—no matter how slim—to change something?
A distant rumble pulled him back from his thoughts. Asphodel Farm shook as if the earth itself was protesting the violence building on the horizon. He stumbled outside, blinking as the cityscape of NEOTROY came into view, its walls encircled by smoke and fire. The rebels had made their move. Against all odds, they’d mobilized a staggering number of citizens, and now NEOTROY was surrounded, besieged from every angle.
“Figures,” Aklion muttered. “The one time they don’t need me tearing up their enemies.”
The Conglomerate’s forces were massing at the gates, rigid lines of armor and weaponry aimed outward, bracing for the oncoming assault. From where he stood, he could see SYNTHIA lighting up his HUD, her notifications buzzing with commands and status updates. He felt her presence like a phantom limb, urging him back to the frontlines.
System Notification
•Mission Objective: Reinforce Conglomerate Defenses
•Optional Objective: Locate and Exterminate High-Value Rebel Targets
Aklion laughed bitterly. “Optional? Right. They really want me to play the hero.” But he knew he was no longer in control, or perhaps he’d never been. His fingers twitched with the urge to jump into the fray, to unleash the wrath bubbling under his skin.
But he’d had enough of optional objectives, enough of playing the pawn. If he was going to fight, he’d do it on his terms.
He opened his eyes, bloodshot and furious, as the INPAXX surged through him, heightening every nerve, every violent impulse he had. His body responded as if possessed, adrenaline and rage guiding his movements. He gripped his weapon, fingers tight around the trigger, barely able to distinguish the blurred faces of friend from foe.
The siege was reaching a crescendo, and he was about to plunge straight into the heart of it, morality and sanity be damned.
Chapter 19: Add insult to injury II
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Aklion’s mind fractured under the pressure of the INPAXX coursing through his veins. Every nerve felt raw, vibrating with rage and chaos. The world around him flickered between two realities: the siege of NEOTROY with its bleak, steel walls and concrete barriers, and something older, ancient—a battlefield drenched in blood where figures moved like shadows in the fog of war. His vision blurred, and he could no longer tell if he was Aklion, the broken warrior of the Conglomerate, or a nameless soldier lost in the sands of time, part of a war older than memory.
System Notification
•INPAXX Level: Critical Overload – 190%
•Physical Status: Enhanced Strength, Decreased Inhibitions
•Mental Status: Dissociative Hallucinations – Spartan/Athenian Battlefield Simulation Activated
•Special Skill Unlocked: Berserker’s Legacy – Increased damage at cost of sanity
He roared, tearing into the fray, his arms swinging with brutal precision. Every hit brought a new spray of red, a new body falling. The Conglomerate soldiers barely registered to him as allies anymore—just warm bodies to cleave through. A familiar voice echoed in his head, a whisper from SYNTHIA, but it was drowned in the thundering of war drums and clashing steel. The Spartans were here, bronze armor glinting, their shields like walls, and across from them, the Athenians, their spears sharp and unyielding.
“Bring me another soul to send to Hades!” he roared, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, like the cry of a man who had abandoned reason.
System Notification
•Skill Activated: Decimation Strike
•XP Gained: +500 (Enemy Casualties: 15)
•Current Status: Hallucination – Enhanced Vision; Target Recognition Disabled
Blood sprayed across his vision, and he saw his HUD flash. Every muscle burned with energy, raw and overwhelming, as if the INPAXX had turned him into a conduit of pure violence. He could feel every heart beating around him, hear every breath, and sense the fear that emanated from both allies and enemies alike.
Aklion didn’t care. He was a god on the battlefield, a storm tearing through men like paper. His glitch-fueled mind threw him deeper into hallucinations, where the ground morphed beneath his feet into the trampled earth of ancient Greece. Stone walls surrounded him as he fought Spartans and Athenians alike, their battle cries echoing in his ears. It was a twisted reenactment of an age-old battle, fueled by the drug and his own fractured mind.
In the chaos, he couldn’t tell whose blood he was spilling anymore. Rebel or Conglomerate, Spartan or Athenian—every life was a sacrifice to the madness he’d become.
The earth shook beneath his feet, and he looked up, seeing a phantom army on the horizon. Figures clad in armor and crowned with glory, faces that looked like gods—Athena, Ares, Zeus, all watching the spectacle below with a hunger for violence. He felt their eyes on him, and it fueled his rage, pushing him deeper into the bloodlust.
Another enemy fell at his feet, his blade slicing clean through the man’s armor as if it were nothing. His HUD flickered, showing red, the levels of INPAXX poisoning his bloodstream climbing higher and higher. His heart raced to an impossible rhythm, his breathing a ragged growl as he fought.
And yet, amid the slaughter, a voice whispered, faint but undeniable. “You are nothing but a pawn, a puppet dancing for their amusement.”
Aklion’s grip on reality wavered. Was this voice real, or just another phantom conjured by the drugs? He couldn’t tell anymore, and maybe he didn’t want to.
System Notification
•Level Up!
•New Skill Acquired: Blind Fury – Temporarily increases attack damage by 300%, reduces recognition of friend or foe.
The battlefield transformed around him in pulses of blood and smoke. Aklion’s world had narrowed down to the visceral sensations of combat—blade against bone, armor splitting beneath his fists, the coppery taste of blood coating his lips. Every breath, every heartbeat, was a drumbeat of rage. His HUD flickered with violent reds and blacks, system notifications popping up and disappearing faster than he could read them.
System Notification
•Berserker’s Legacy: Max level reached – self-control lost
•Status Effect: Bloodlust Overdrive – recognition and rational thought suspended
In his eyes, the rebels and Conglomerate soldiers twisted into faceless warriors, indistinguishable from one another. They became shades, enemies, fragments of his own rage given form. He tore through them, every strike a symphony of violence. A distorted image rose in his mind—a battlefield that seemed to stretch into eternity, littered with bodies he’d put there. The face of each fallen soldier twisted into memories of people he’d fought alongside, people he’d betrayed, and people he couldn’t remember.
Around him, the battlefield flickered again, melding with images of an ancient war. To his left, Spartans held their shields, their faces grim and unyielding. Athenians to his right, lances poised, their eyes hungry for the kill. The ghosts of the past bled into his reality, amplifying his fury. Aklion grinned, a mad, blood-stained grin, as he plunged himself into the battle between worlds, feeling both ancient and newly born in his insanity.
System Notification
•XP Gained: +1200
•Enemy Casualties Count: 46
•Critical Skill Activation: Blind Fury – Activated for next 10 minutes
He didn’t stop to breathe, didn’t stop to think. His every movement was fueled by an unstoppable tide of wrath. He drove his blade down into the ground, shattering rock and concrete, and sent shockwaves of force through the earth. Enemy soldiers stumbled, their HUDs flickering in confusion, giving him an opening. He laughed—a raw, guttural sound that could only come from a man who had given himself fully to madness.
“Athena!” he roared, the name slipping from his lips like an incantation. “Come down from your ivory tower! Ares! Face me if you’ve got the guts!”
Aklion was no longer a soldier; he was the embodiment of war itself. And every god in his hallucinations, every deity spectating from their thrones, seemed to answer his call. The air around him seemed to pulse, thick with the electricity of his rage.
A sudden explosion to his right snapped him out of his frenzy for a brief moment. He spun, blade raised, ready to strike, but what he saw only deepened his sense of detachment from reality. A massive, spectral figure—a manifestation of Ares himself, or so it seemed in his fractured mind—stood before him, red-eyed and grinning.
“War is your only friend, Aklion,” the figure intoned, its voice like grinding metal. “Your only truth.”
With that, Ares lunged, and Aklion met him head-on. Their clash shook the battlefield, ripples of force knocking soldiers to the ground. Every blow was a thunderclap, every parry a storm. The fight surged back and forth, Aklion’s own strength somehow matching the god’s, as though the INPAXX had fused him with this delusion of godlike power.
System Notification
•Special Skill Activated: Godslayer – For the next 5 minutes, all attacks deal fatal damage regardless of enemy HP.
He struck with brutal precision, feeling his blade sink into flesh that wasn’t there, spilling blood that never touched the ground. But in his mind, he was slaying a god, and each blow, each scream, only fueled his bloodlust. His HUD was nothing but flashing warnings, his health dropping steadily from exertion and drug overload, but he barely registered it.
And then, as the phantom Ares dissolved into shadows and smoke, Aklion looked up. Across the battlefield, the soldiers—the real soldiers—stared at him, terror etched into their faces. His senses sharpened for a moment, clarity piercing his rage. These were real people. Human. Flesh and blood. He could feel the weight of their fear, their helplessness, and something in him twisted, a part of himself that had survived the INPAXX trying to remind him of who he was.
But the clarity faded as quickly as it had come. His HUD flared back into life, and the familiar pulse of INPAXX hit his system again. He gave himself back to the madness.
With a final roar, he charged, throwing himself back into the slaughter. The rebels, the Conglomerate, everyone became a blur of violence in his path. He felt the gods watching, the ancient warriors cheering, and for the briefest of moments, he felt truly alive. This was his domain, the only truth he understood.
The ground beneath him was soaked with blood, and his own body was drenched in it, his wounds numerous, yet he moved like a man untouched. But inside, every system screamed in protest. His heart was racing beyond control, his mind fracturing under the strain, the INPAXX taking its toll. And yet, he pushed on.
System Notification
•Health Warning: Critical
•System Alert: User dangerously close to total neural failure
•Temporary Skill: Relentless Rage – No damage taken for next 60 seconds
In that final moment, Aklion stood alone, surrounded by bodies, real and imagined, his vision blurring as he looked at the carnage he had wrought. In the haze of his mind, he saw himself reflected in the eyes of the fallen, as if he had become both the warrior and the battlefield itself.
And in his last moment of consciousness, he felt the gods’ gaze turn away, uninterested now that their plaything was broken. As his HUD flickered one last time, he laughed, a choked, hollow sound, as he fell to his knees among the dead.