The hum of the system quieted, but something else stirred—something deep, tangled within my consciousness. The world shifted before I could even register the change, dragging me into a vortex of fragmented memories. A cold breeze brushed against my skin as darkness swallowed the edges of my vision. Then, without warning, I was somewhere else.
The Infant
I blinked, and the world around me rippled. Soft warmth surrounded me, the scent of milk lingering in the air. I lay in a crib, tiny hands grasping at nothing, limbs flailing as if testing new muscles for the first time. Above me, a mobile spun slowly—stars and moons dangling from its wires, catching the faint light filtering through the curtains.
"Shhh, Arc... it's okay, baby..."
The sound of my mother's voice. Gentle. Soft. It made everything inside me settle.
She leaned over the crib, her dark eyes glowing with a love so deep it threatened to break me, even through the haze of the illusion. Her hands cupped my tiny cheeks as she kissed my forehead. "You'll grow strong, my little fighter."
I reached out instinctively, as if I could grasp that love and hold onto it forever. But before my infant self could feel the warmth of her touch again, the scene flickered—disintegrating like ash blown away by the wind.
The Child
The landscape twisted, and I found myself in a living room. Our living room. I was around six years old, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, watching cartoons on an old television set. My father, wearing his usual insurance agent uniform—a cheap tie and pressed shirt—laughed beside me as we shared a bowl of popcorn.
"You see, Arc," he said, grinning, "life's like a maze—if you keep trying, eventually you'll find your way out. Just don't give up too soon."
The words landed differently this time. They felt like a prophecy—a distant reminder from a man I lost too soon.
The illusion forced me to relive every detail. I remembered how we sat there for hours, forgetting the world outside. How his presence filled the room with a kind of quiet reassurance. And then—just as I reached for the remote to change the channel—
The memory fractured again.
The Teenager
I was in high school now. Snow flurries drifted outside, frosting the windowpanes. I sat at the dining table, scribbling on sheets of paper, lost in math problems I didn't care about. Across from me, Mom worked late again, flipping through patient charts. Her pager buzzed from time to time—reminding her that, as a government hospital surgeon, she never really got to rest.
"You've got to focus, Arc," she said without looking up. "If you don't learn discipline now, life won't be so forgiving."
I grunted, pretending not to care. "I'll be fine, Mom."
She shook her head but smiled. "One day, you'll see what I mean."
I remembered that day vividly—the cold that clung to the air, the way the radiator clicked on and off, and how her words stayed with me, long after she had left for another overnight shift.
The world swayed, as if toying with me. Then, just as the warmth of that memory started to settle—everything shattered again.
The Adult – Loss Unfolds
I stood at the edge of a hospital bed, staring down at my parents. They were lifeless. The sheets, the monitors, the beeping machines—none of it mattered. They were gone.
"How...?" The word left my lips as a hollow whisper. It was supposed to be a routine accident. Nothing major. Something insurance would handle. Something a skilled surgeon could patch up.
But fate had different plans.
The crash had taken both of them. One moment, they were driving back home after a rare night out together. The next—a drunk driver swerved into their lane.
I remember standing at their funeral, surrounded by strangers offering their empty condolences. Steve, Ama, Ajay—they were all there, but none of them knew what to say.
I stood still through the entire ceremony, numb to everything except the hollow ache inside me. The pain had rooted itself deep, spreading like a sickness that refused to heal.
I never cried at the funeral. Not once. Not until now.
The Breaking Point
The illusion shifted again, but this time, it didn't take me to another memory. It held me here—in the moment of my greatest loss.
I felt my knees buckle, the weight of it all finally crashing down on me. **The grief, the helplessness, the unanswered questions.**Why did this happen? Why did it have to be them?
For the first time since their deaths, I broke.
Tears fell, hot and fast, blurring my vision. My chest heaved with ragged sobs that echoed through the empty illusion. It felt like the floodgates had burst—every emotion I had locked away since that awful night came rushing to the surface.
I cried for my father, who taught me life was a maze.
I cried for my mother, who never stopped believing in me.
And I cried for the boy I used to be—the one who believed everything would be okay. The one who didn't know what it meant to lose everything.
A Purpose in the Pain
The system's voice cut through the illusion, calm and emotionless.
System Notification: Evolution Threshold Unlocked. Purpose Identified.
And suddenly, the pain sharpened into something else—resolve.
If the system could give me this power, this chance to evolve, then there was only one path forward. I had to keep moving, keep growing, no matter what it took.
The memories, the emotions—they weren't just reminders of loss. They were fuel.
"I will evolve," I whispered, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "I'll grow beyond this. I'll find a way."
A new thought blossomed in my mind—a dangerous, all-consuming one. If I became strong enough... perhaps I could undo it all.
Revenge and Revival
I clenched my fists, the weight of the mission settling into my bones. I wasn't just going to evolve for the sake of it.
I would become strong enough to revive them. Stronger than anything this world or any other had seen.
And anyone—**anyone responsible for the serum experiments, the car crash, or any part of this nightmare—**would suffer.
They would pay.
No mercy. No forgiveness.
The End of the Illusion
The world trembled one final time, and then the illusion dissolved, leaving me back where I started—on the cold ground, kneeling beneath the silent sky. My breath came out in uneven bursts, heart pounding like a war drum in my chest.
But I wasn't the same.
System Notification: Evolution Unlocked – Hybrid Stage 2.
Ability Path Updated – Reactive Evolution Synced with Purpose.
Mana Veins Expanded: Universal Nexus Detected.
I stood slowly, wiping the last of the tears from my face. I was done grieving.
Now, it was time to act. Time to hunt down every secret, every enemy, and burn down everything standing in my way.
This was just the beginning.