CHAPTER 20: Complications

"Yes..." The word was no louder than a breath, raw and hoarse like gravel scraped across concrete.

Liu Xian blinked against the sterile white light beaming down from overhead panels, harsh and unwavering like a god's indifferent gaze. His vision stuttered, swimming with patches of black and silver bursts, and for a moment, he felt like he was being dragged up from the bottom of the ocean, lungs full of ice, body heavy like concrete. He groaned, trying to sit up, muscles trembling with the effort.

But the second he lifted his head, a cold hand shoved him back down with surgical precision.

"Don't strain yourself," a voice crooned—soft, oily, too smooth to be trusted.

The moment the hand made contact, something primal snapped. His hand shot up instinctively, swatting the offending touch away with a surprising burst of strength for someone who could barely breathe seconds ago. He didn't know who it was—didn't care. All he knew was that he wasn't going to be manhandled again.

His eyes shot open fully then, locking onto the man standing over him.

A stare that could have curdled blood. That's what he gave him.

If looks could kill, Dr. Omicron-7 would've dropped dead, a neat hole burnt through his skull.

Xian's death glare wasn't theatrical or exaggerated—it was ice-cold murder stitched with quiet fury. His eyes didn't just look at Omicron-7 —they looked through him. Piercing, haunting, heavy with a kind of defiance that said: "Touch me again, and I will end you—even if it's the last thing I do." Despite the tremble in his fingers and the bandages around his neck, despite how dry his throat felt or how badly his limbs ached, he made one thing abundantly clear.

He wasn't broken.

Dr. Omicron-7 stared back.

And for a moment, his smile flickered—not in fear, but in... joy?

Excitement bloomed on his face, like a twisted child finally seeing their toy come to life. His eye, the one not covered by the black leather eyepatch, sparkled with a feverish glee. He looked utterly delighted.

Disgusting!

"Well now," Omicron-7 whispered with a grin slowly stretching across his face, pulling at the corners like it might tear the skin. "That's the spirit I like to see."

His voice was sugar-coated venom, and even that carried its own brand of cruelty. But then, something strange happened. His posture softened. His grin settled into something more... human.

Fake.

He brushed nonexistent dust from the edge of Xian's blanket and gave a gentle nod, as if he hadn't been strangling the boy less than a day ago.

"How are you feeling, Liu?" Omicron-7 asked, his tone suddenly gentle—fatherly, even.

Xian narrowed his eyes.

If anyone had walked in just then, they might've thought Dr. Omicron-7 was a concerned physician, maybe even a caring mentor. The transformation was terrifying. He was a chameleon, morphing into a mask that didn't quite fit but looked believable enough to fool someone not paying attention.

His voice, smooth as silk, was so sweet it bordered on parody.

"You've been through quite a lot," Dr . Omicron-7 continued, placing a gloved hand on the clipboard tucked beneath his arm. "You showed exceptional mana synchronization. Strong elemental surges. Electricity, water, and fire... rare combination. The results are just... remarkable."

Liu Xian didn't respond.

His eyes still tracked Omicron-7 like he was something rabid—unpredictable and dangerous. The silence between them stretched like barbed wire, prickling with unsaid things. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, but he refused to flinch.

He wanted answers.

And he wanted out.

"You must be confused," Dr. Omicron-7 said, shifting to the side and pulling up a stool beside the medical slab Xian had been strapped to hours before. "But don't worry. Everything is going to make sense soon. We're not your enemies here."

Xian scoffed.

He didn't believe a fucking word.

Omicron-7 saw that too. But rather than looking offended, he just smiled wider—like a snake pleased with its prey's resistance.

"Still angry, huh?" he mused. "I get it. Believe me, I do. Koro lied to you. We did tests. You lost control. I'd be furious too if I were you. But the truth is, none of this was personal."

Xian twitched.

Not personal?

They killed Koro in front of him. They dragged him, experimented on him, and treated him like a fucking lab rat.

And now it wasn't personal?

Dr. Omicron-7 tilted his head and tapped the metal railing beside the bed. His fingers made soft, rhythmic clinks. "You're strong, Liu. Very strong. Stronger than most. Your mana output has already surpassed the highest registered in the past two years. Do you have any idea what that means?"

Xian didn't answer.

So Omicron-7 leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "It means you're special. Not just gifted. Not just 'above average.' I mean you're the next step in evolution. An apex caster. A walking, breathing weapon. You don't even realize it yet... but you will."

There was awe in his voice now. Not just awe—worship.

Liu Xian's mouth went dry.

What was this lunatic getting at?

Before he could speak, the door to the lab slid open with a mechanical hiss. Two more scientists stepped in, wheeling a tray of syringes and tools that looked like they belonged in a torture chamber more than a medical lab.

Dr. Omicron-7 stood up, that same sugary smile still plastered on his face. "Rest now. We've got more tests tomorrow. I suggest you don't resist this time. We wouldn't want any more... complications."

He turned on his heel, whistling a haunting little tune as he left the room.

Liu Xian stared after him, his fists clenched under the thin sheets, jaw tight. His body was screaming for rest—but his mind refused.