Amidst the snowy mountains, where temperatures can drop as low as -100°C, a lone white building stands, isolated from society. Despite its harsh surroundings, which seem uninhabitable to most, this building shows signs of life. At the gate, two towers overlook the perimeter. Inside, two soldiers keep watch with sniper rifles, while another scans the area with binoculars and a powerful searchlight.

A black limousine approaches the gate, immediately caught in the beam of the tower lights as the snipers ready their aim. The car stops a few steps before the closed gate. Moments later, a soldier steps out of the guard post, rifle in hand. After a tense pause, he salutes the car and signals for it to enter the facility grounds.

"Status?" A man in a black suit steps out of the car and immediately questions the soldier who rushes up to him.

"Most of the subjects couldn’t survive after their genetic alterations. For this one, we’ll need to administer the dosage gradually so the subject’s body can adapt," the soldier, standing at 180cm, reports, holding a file in his hands.

"How long will it take?"

"About three months, assuming there are no complications," the soldier replies, as though anticipating the question.

"You have one month. Get results," the man in the suit commands.

"Your Excellency, I kindly urge you to reconsider. Forcing the subject to handle that much in such a short time will destroy his body." The soldier's face pales at the statement, glancing anxiously at the man walking beside him.

The man stops, casting a sharp glare at the muscular soldier. If looks could kill, this soldier would have perished a hundred times over.

The soldier feels a surge of panic but refuses to back down, hoping His Excellency will reconsider. After a few moments, the man finally speaks again.

"One month, or you die."

The soldier is left speechless, unable to muster a response. Though he knows he could easily kill this man, doing so would lead to a life far more shattered than the one he has now.

"You! Speed up the process and get results in one month!" the soldier orders his subordinate, who stands nearby on guard duty.

"Yes, Sergeant!" The subordinate salutes and hurries off, leaving the two of them alone.

In one of the laboratory rooms, a man floats in a cylinder filled with green fluid. His body is neither thin nor muscular, and he wears a breathing device over his mouth. Several people in lab coats move anxiously around the room, their faces tense.

"Increase the dosage by 20%," the lab chief orders.

"Dose increased by 20%." At that moment, the man inside the cylinder convulses, his body shaking so violently that the fluid begins to bubble. If his voice could be heard, only God would know the agony he must be feeling.

After hours of enduring the pain, Aiden feels his body growing numb to the torment. The tremors begin to subside, and he considers this a small victory. But relief fades when he hears the scientist give the order to increase the dosage again. The pain returns, worse than before.

Aiden feels his body beginning to give way, losing all control. The pain dissipates as he feels himself slipping away. Opening his eyes, he no longer sees the green fluid or the scientists but rather a dark, endless sky.

Rising slowly, Aiden hears whispering voices around him—some murmuring, some groaning in pain, and others crying softly. He looks around and realizes he’s in an old, desolate graveyard, seemingly abandoned and left unguarded.

"A graveyard? Crying voices?" Aiden looks bewildered before a wide smile spreads across his face.

"I'm dead? Finally!" After everything he endured in that lab, surely no one would still want to continue living.

Aiden took a deep breath, feeling an odd sense of peace in the stillness around him. The weight of his old life, the pain, the torment—all of it felt like a distant nightmare, finally over. He stretched his arms, feeling a strange freedom in his limbs, unbound by tubes and restraints. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to relax, closing his eyes and letting the cool, night air wash over him.

"So this is it," he murmured to himself, a faint smile curving his lips. "This is what it feels like to be free."

He took a moment to appreciate the scene around him: the twisted, barren trees casting long shadows, the eerie quietness of the abandoned graveyard, the faint glow of mist settling over ancient, crumbling headstones. It was haunting but peaceful—a silence unbroken, a place untouched by the horrors of his past.

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But then, a faint sound interrupted the stillness. A rustling, followed by the scrape of metal on stone. Aiden’s eyes snapped open, his senses on high alert. Not far from where he stood, a figure moved in the shadows—a man hunched over a freshly dug grave, tools in hand, muttering under his breath.

Aiden sat calmly on a weathered tombstone, his legs swinging back and forth as he watched the grave robber work. In his mind, he was little more than a spirit now—a ghost among the dead, unseen and unbound. He took in the scene with quiet fascination, appreciating the view of the darkened graveyard, the rustling trees, and the star-speckled sky overhead. It was a rare, peaceful moment, so different from his past life where the only things he’d ever seen were sterile lab walls, green liquid, and the cold eyes of scientists.

The grave robber continued his work, pulling trinkets from a freshly dug grave with little regard for the boy sitting nearby. Aiden thought nothing of it; he simply observed, savoring this strange new freedom.

Then, a sharp whisper from the shadows caught his attention.

“Look, it’s just some kid,” a voice hissed, sounding both annoyed and dismissive.

Aiden turned his head, spotting four more figures emerging from the darkness, each carrying makeshift weapons—shovels, picks, and rusty knives. He tilted his head, a puzzled look on his face. It was only when the first robber pointed toward him, eyes narrowed with hostility, that Aiden began to feel a strange sense of unease.

“Boss says the kid’s gotta go,” one of them muttered, glancing at Aiden with a sneer. “Can’t risk anyone talking about what we’re doing here.”

They began to circle him, spreading out slowly like predators closing in on their prey. Aiden sat there, still trying to comprehend the situation. His unease grew, a creeping sense of wrongness he couldn’t ignore.

He raised a hand, waving it slightly at one of the robbers, who was inching closer. “Wait… can you actually see me?”

The men burst into laughter, and one of them—a tall, wiry man with a scar slashing across his cheek—snorted. “What’s with this kid? Thinks he’s some kind of ghost!” He chuckled darkly, tightening his grip on a heavy, mud-encrusted shovel.

“Let’s get this over with,” another robber muttered, nodding toward the man with the shovel. The robber stepped forward, raising the shovel high, intent on striking Aiden from behind.

Aiden felt the strange urge to move, but his confusion held him in place as the shovel came swinging down. Instinctively, he ducked, feeling the rush of air as the metal narrowly missed his head. Startled, he scrambled off the tombstone, backing up quickly as the other robbers advanced, blocking off his escape.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, kid,” the scarred robber sneered, moving to cut off his path.

Aiden’s eyes darted around, his heart racing as he realized he was truly in danger. He tried to sidestep them, but another robber lunged, reaching for his collar. Panicking, Aiden twisted free, only to stumble backward. His foot caught the edge of a freshly dug grave, and he fell, landing hard on his back.

As he lay there, his hand brushed against something cold and lifeless—the remains of a corpse, half-exposed in the earth. A strange sensation washed over him—a raw, instinctual power, connecting him to the lifeless body in a way he couldn’t explain. Without fully realizing it, Aiden closed his eyes, trusting an instinct buried deep within him.

The ground beneath him trembled.

A low, guttural moan filled the air, and the corpse beside him twitched, its eyes snapping open. Aiden stared in shock, frozen as the body slowly rose, bits of dirt and tattered fabric clinging to its rotting frame.

“What the—” one of the robbers stammered, eyes widening in horror as the corpse lunged toward them.

The undead figure reached out, grabbing the nearest robber by the throat. Its grip was unrelenting, forcing the man to his knees as he struggled and gasped for breath. The other robbers backed away, their faces pale with fear, glancing between Aiden and the corpse as though they couldn’t decide who was the greater threat.

“Get him! Stop that thing!” one of them shouted, charging at Aiden with a knife.

Aiden scrambled to his feet, too shocked to fully process what was happening. He turned and bolted, heart pounding as he fled, ducking behind a row of headstones. Crouched low, he watched from afar as the undead corpse moved with unnatural speed, slamming another robber into the ground. The man screamed as the cold hands of the dead clamped down on him, cutting off his cries.

The remaining robbers attacked, shouting in panic, swinging their shovels and knives wildly at the corpse. One of them managed to knock its arm off, but it barely slowed the creature down, the severed limb still twitching as it reached for them.

Aiden pressed himself against a large gravestone, breath coming in short gasps as he watched the fight unfold. The scene was brutal, the robbers thrashing and yelling as they tried to fend off the corpse, but their efforts were in vain. The undead seemed tireless, its decaying body unfazed by the blows, driven by a force beyond anything Aiden could comprehend.

With a bone-chilling scream, one of the robbers was thrown to the ground, his skull cracking against a stone. Another was dragged into an open grave, his shouts muffled as the dirt around him caved in. The remaining robbers stumbled back, eyes wide with terror, their courage evaporating as the corpse continued its relentless assault.

Aiden watched, both horrified and mesmerized, feeling an unsettling thrill as he realized this creature was fighting for him, protecting him in a way he had never experienced.. He clutched his hand to his chest, his fingers tingling with the strange power that had brought the corpse to life. He didn’t fully understand it, but he knew one thing for sure—this power was his.

One of the robbers, pale and shaking, turned to run, his shovel clattering to the ground as he sprinted for the trees. The other, too terrified to move, froze as the corpse closed in, its hollow eyes fixated on him with an eerie, vacant stare.

Aiden took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down as the last of the robbers’ screams faded into the night. The graveyard fell silent once more, the undead figure standing among the scattered bodies, still as a shadow.

Aiden sank to his knees, his mind racing, torn between shock and a growing sense of power. Whatever this connection was, it had saved him. And as he looked around at the aftermath of the fight, he realized he was no longer the weak, helpless boy he had once been.

From his hiding place, he muttered to himself, voice trembling with shock and disbelief.

"How the hell did that happen?"