Chapter 24: A Power That Doesn't Belong

Alden's body felt wrong.

It wasn't pain. It wasn't exhaustion. It was something deeper.

Like his own existence was off-center, like something had been forcibly rewritten inside him, and his mind was struggling to catch up.

He clenched his fists, feeling the unstable pulses of energy surging through his veins. This wasn't his Overclock. It was something else.

Something that shouldn't exist.

Specter took a slow step forward, the flickering glow of their mask reflecting in the ruined chamber. "Fascinating," they murmured. "I was expecting… resistance. But it seems you welcomed the change."

Alden gritted his teeth. "Welcomed? I don't even know what the hell just happened to me."

Specter tilted their head. "Then why are you still standing?"

Alden froze.

Because they were right.

The Core Experiment's containment pod had exploded. The raw energy inside it should have killed him, shredded his body apart like it had done to every failed subject before him.

But instead—

It had merged with him.

And he was still here.

Still alive.

Specter took another step forward. "So tell me, Alden Cross—what exactly are you now?"

Alden's breath hitched.

Because the terrifying truth was—he didn't know.

He could still feel Overclock, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the rapid-speed optimization that had defined his abilities before.

It was deeper. More complex.

More dangerous.

His fingers twitched, and before he could even think—

The world blurred.

One second, he was standing across the chamber.

The next—he was behind Specter.

Specter barely had time to react before Alden's fist was inches from the back of their head.

Alden's own eyes widened in horror.

He hadn't planned to move.

His body had just reacted.

He yanked himself back just in time, skidding across the broken floor. His chest heaved, panic flickering through his mind.

What the hell was that?

Specter turned slowly, seemingly unphased. "Ah," they mused. "So it's instinctual."

Alden's pulse pounded. "What… did I just do?"

Specter didn't answer immediately. Instead, they reached for their wrist console, tapping a series of commands. A nearby shattered monitor flickered to life.

Alden turned—and his stomach dropped.

It was a real-time analysis of his body.

But his Overclock energy wasn't alone anymore.

There was a second frequency intertwined with it.

A foreign signal. Something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Specter observed the data, voice eerily calm. "Overclock's initial function was always adaptation. Optimization. But what you just absorbed… it's different. It's no longer just reacting to the world around you."

Alden's jaw clenched. "Then what is it doing?"

Specter looked directly at him.

"It's rewriting you."

Alden felt the air leave his lungs.

Rewriting.

The word hit him like a freight train.

Because that meant—this wasn't just an upgrade.

This wasn't just a boost in power.

This was fundamental change.

And he had no control over it.

His fingers curled into fists, his entire body buzzing with instability. He tried to focus—to command Overclock to stabilize itself, to return to what it was before—

But it refused to listen.

Instead, the energy within him twisted. Shifted. Adjusted.

Alden gasped. He could feel his own mind trying to keep up, like he was moving through a world that wasn't entirely real.

Specter watched silently. "Your body is no longer running on predictions or combat analysis."

They stepped forward.

"It's running on something far more dangerous."

Alden staggered back. "Stop talking in riddles."

Specter exhaled, almost amused. "Very well."

They snapped their fingers.

A new screen blinked into existence.

It was a list of failed experiments.

Dozens. Hundreds.

All of them had one thing in common.

A single designation under the notes of every failure.

"Overclock Unstable – Cognitive Function Lost."

Alden's heartbeat stopped.

Specter took another step closer. "This power doesn't just rewrite your body, Alden."

Their voice was low, edged with something almost like excitement.

"It rewrites you."

Alden's entire world tipped sideways.

That couldn't be true.

It couldn't.

His own memories flickered, fragments of his past surfacing and vanishing at random. The first time he met Iris. The first fight he won at Sentinel Academy. The vending machine incident.

All of it felt distant.

Like pieces of a story that didn't belong to him anymore.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, I'm still—"

But even as he spoke, he could feel it.

The change.

Not just in his power.

But in who he was.

Specter observed him carefully, their mask unreadable. "The question is, Alden—how long can you hold on before there's nothing left of you at all?"

Alden's vision flickered violently.

His Overclock roared to life.

And suddenly—the world exploded into movement.

His body moved without his command.

One moment, he was standing in front of Specter—the next, he was behind them again.

But this time—

He didn't stop himself.

His fist connected.

The impact sent Specter crashing through the wreckage.

Alden stared at his own hand, his breath ragged.

He hadn't meant to attack.

But his body had decided for him.

His chest tightened.

This power—it was making choices for him.

And that meant—

He was losing control.

Specter slowly pulled themselves from the rubble, voice calm, but laced with something new.

Amusement.

"Ah," they murmured. "There it is."

Alden's fingers twitched violently.

His body **moved again—**not by his will, but by something inside him, something taking over.

Something replacing him.

He tried to stop. Tried to resist.

But his own Overclock turned against him.

And for the first time since he had awakened in this nightmare—

Alden realized he was truly afraid.