Chapter 10: Unseen Chains

Alden's mind drifted between consciousness and darkness, a slow, disorienting spiral of fragmented images and blurred sounds.

Pain pulsed at the back of his skull, the dull ache grounding him in reality. His limbs felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive, but that familiar buzz of Overclock energy was still there—faint, distant, struggling to surface.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew what had happened.

He lost.

He didn't even know how long it had been since that final blow landed. The moment his vision blurred, the moment his legs gave out beneath him—it had all been over in seconds.

Now, as his senses slowly returned, he became aware of two things.

First—he was restrained again.

Second—he wasn't alone.

A soft beep echoed in the air. The sound of a terminal running diagnostics.

Alden's eyelids fluttered open.

The room was different.

Gone were the sterile white walls, the bright medical panels, the cold laboratory feel of the last place.

Now, he was in a dimly lit chamber, its walls lined with rows of massive containment pods, each glowing with a faint, eerie blue light. Some were empty. Others held figures suspended in thick, bubbling liquid, their forms barely visible through the reinforced glass.

He was strapped to a vertical restraint chair, this time with thick metallic bands locking his arms, legs, and chest into place. Unlike before, there was a faint pulse running through the bindings, a low-frequency hum that sent uncomfortable vibrations through his muscles.

They weren't taking any chances this time.

His gaze snapped forward—and there, standing a few feet away, was Specter.

Still unreadable. Still calm. Their metallic mask reflected the dim glow of the chamber, the shifting data streams across its surface analyzing him with quiet interest.

"Welcome back."

Alden's voice came out rough. "Yeah, I'm feeling real welcome right now."

Specter didn't react.

Alden exhaled sharply. Stay calm. Stay sharp.

His body wasn't responding the way he wanted it to. The suppression field was still active, but this time, it wasn't blocking Overclock completely—it was just keeping it sluggish, unfocused.

They were testing something.

Alden narrowed his eyes. "So. What's next? More needles? Maybe some fun brain experiments? Or do we skip ahead to the part where you guys just admit you have no idea what's going on with me?"

Specter tilted their head slightly, then took a step forward. "Oh, we understand exactly what's going on with you."

Alden scoffed. "Oh, sure. Because clearly I'm the most normal guy in the world."

Specter ignored the sarcasm. Instead, they pressed a control panel on their wrist, and the chamber shifted.

The containment pods dimmed. A hidden terminal hummed to life, displaying a holographic projection in the air beside them.

Alden's own body appeared on the screen—a detailed biometric scan, pulsing with shifting data streams. But it wasn't just a normal analysis.

The model of his body was changing.

Adjusting. Optimizing.

The data patterns weren't static—they were constantly rewriting themselves.

Specter gestured toward the display. "Tell me. What do you see?"

Alden frowned. "A really expensive medical scan?"

Specter remained still. "Look closer."

Alden's eyes flicked over the holographic projection, and as much as he hated to admit it, he understood exactly what he was looking at.

His body wasn't just reacting to Overclock.

It was evolving with it.

The longer Overclock stayed active, the more his body adapted. Faster response times. More efficient neural pathways. Even his muscle composition was subtly adjusting to better handle combat stress.

Overclock wasn't just boosting him—it was rewriting him at the cellular level.

Alden felt his pulse spike. "That… that can't be right."

Specter exhaled, a faint amusement in their voice. "And yet, here you are."

Alden's fingers twitched against the restraints. "So what? You wanna dissect me? Copy it? Use me as some kind of lab experiment?"

Specter didn't answer immediately. Instead, they pressed another control panel on their wrist, and the containment pods behind them shifted.

The liquid inside began to drain.

Alden's breath caught.

The figures inside—the ones he had barely been able to see before—were becoming clearer.

At least a dozen people floated inside the pods, their bodies suspended in place. Their features were all different, their ages varied. But there was one horrifying similarity.

Every single one of them had their bodies in a state of flux.

Some had half-shifted limbs, flickering between solid matter and energy. Others had unusual scars running along their arms, as if their own cells had been torn apart and rebuilt over and over again. One had a visible fractured pattern in his skin, like glass that had been cracked but never shattered.

They weren't dead.

But they weren't stable, either.

Alden's stomach twisted.

"What… the hell is this?"

Specter turned toward the display again. "They are failed experiments. Subjects who showed promise—gifts that were adaptable, evolving. But none of them were…"

They turned their glowing visor back to Alden.

"…like you."

Alden's hands clenched. "You're saying these people… they had powers like Overclock?"

"To a degree," Specter admitted. "But none of them could sustain the rewrites. Their bodies… broke."

Alden swallowed hard.

Broken.

That's what Specter had planned for him, wasn't it?

They wanted to push Overclock as far as it could go. See if his body would hold up.

Or if he'd end up like them.

His chest tightened. His mind raced.

There had to be a way out of this.

There had to be a way to escape before they pushed him too far.

Specter took another step forward. "You are the only successful case we've found, Alden Cross. The first true adaptive power."

They leaned in slightly.

"We want to see… how much more you can handle."

Alden's heart slammed against his ribs.

Because the way Specter said it—this wasn't a request.

The machines in the room whirred to life.

The pods began unlocking.

And one of the failed experiments moved.

A figure inside jerked violently. Their eyes snapped open, a faint flicker of unstable energy rippling through their skin.

Alden felt his blood turn ice cold.

The pod door hissed open.

The experiment stepped forward.

And their first, instinctive reaction—

Was to attack.