Chapter 3

When the heavy blast gate slammed shut behind me, I heard that familiar, nauseating hum of electromagnetic interference. I had been brought to the "Deep Purification Chamber"—essentially an abattoir designed to push "Gatekeepers" through extreme overload to extract our residual life force.

Marcus stood behind the bulletproof glass of the observation deck, swirling a glass of nameless cognac, his gaze that of a man looking at a piece of scrap metal destined for the furnace. Beside him, two heavily armed "Cleaners" were driving dozens of thick, rigid conduits into the wall ports.

"Thorne, considering your recent physiological irregularities, headquarters has authorized a 'full system reset,'" Marcus’s voice boomed through the speakers, dripping with that nauseating official pretense. "We’re going to inject you with highly concentrated void-radiation fluid. It will boost your sensory threshold, let you squeeze every last drop of utility out of yourself for the upcoming Abyssal Rift mission."

They wanted me dead. The concentration of those fluids was enough to dissolve a heavy-duty aberration into sludge in under three seconds.

Ten years ago—or even a few hours ago—I would have fought back. I would have curled into a ball, trying to protect my fragile psyche, trying to suppress the restless core within me. But now, only a desolate vacuum remained in my mind: Sarah was gone.

"Injection commencing." Marcus waved his hand impatiently.

Cold, synthetic fluid surged into the connection points. In that instant, the overwhelming energy shattered the seals, flooding my veins like liquid lead being poured directly into my heart.

My body began to convulse violently. My decayed muscle fibers tore and rebuilt themselves under the sheer intensity of the radiation. My veins bulged, glowing with a terrifying, lightning-like dark-violet light.

The chip alarm blared. A sharp, searing screech emanated from my neck—the sound of the limiter’s logic program nearing total collapse. It tried to force me into immediate shock with massive electrical bursts, desperate to suppress the暴风 (storm) of radiation.

It hurts.

But this pain brought a clarity I had never known.

In the moment that high-energy radiation plowed through every fiber of my being like wildfire, I did something they would never understand—I didn't resist. I didn't flee. I opened every pore, embracing the lethal toxin as the ultimate tonic, welcoming it entirely.

I issued a single, cold command in my heart: Assimilate.

My "Aberration Core" sensed the foreign energy and turned ravenous. The dormant, abyssal core—a prehistoric beast that had been slumbering for so long—slammed its jaws open wide. The radiation meant to kill a human was instantly dismantled into raw energy, flowing tamely through my meridians.

I felt the shackles in my body snapping, one by one.

It wasn't just physical restructuring. The digital chip that had throttled my consciousness for a decade was suddenly corroded by the abyssal radiation. I heard the chip emit a final, pathetic whine within my skull; then, the icy logic commands that had dictated my existence dissolved into corrupted code and fell into absolute silence.

I looked up. Through blurred vision, I saw the blood drain from Marcus’s face in the control booth. He lunged for the microphone, his voice laced with unveiled terror: "The readings are wrong! His bio-signs are hitting an exponential surge! Stop the injection! Lockdown! Lockdown!"

But I was already moving.

With a single hand, I ripped those thick tubes from the wall. Pale blue radioactive fluid splashed across the floor like bioluminescent blood. The toxins that were meant to paralyze me were now surging beneath my skin, bringing not the shadow of death, but the power of absolute dominion.

My eyes burnt, but in that moment, I could see the energy flow of the entire building—I could see the frantic beating hearts of everyone in the control booth and the dark secrets hidden behind the alloy walls of the laboratory.

"Marcus."

I didn't speak, but my voice, vibrating with void energy, echoed directly into his brain. The color vanished from his face; the sheer terror made his cognac slip from his fingers, shattering on the floor.

I steadied myself against the wall and stood up. I could feel that my body was no longer a rotting shell of flesh, but a rift itself—a bridge between the abyss and reality.

This was never poison.

This was the key they had foolishly handed me, granting me total access to the gates of the abyss.