Rampage

"Come out, fat guy! I'm going to kill you!"

Vael's voice rang through the clearing like a war drum, bold and unafraid.

Inside his tent, Veltren froze.

Did he just hear that correctly?

He stepped outside, adjusting his lavish fur cloak, a cup of wine still in his hand. His beady eyes scanned the source of the commotion — and landed on a lone tribesman.

Not too tall. Not too short.

Not too bulky. Not too thin.

Just a boy with a wooden staff.

Veltren sneered.

"Hey brat… are you the bastard who's been killing my men?" His tone was half amusement, half contempt. "Mmh. Can't be. You look too soft. Too clean."

He squinted, trying to get a read — and then paused.

"Space?" His tone shifted. "Now that… that's rare. Even for us purebloods. Let alone you animals."

There was a glimmer in his eye — not admiration, but ownership.

"You'd make a fine addition to our ranks," he declared, like he'd already sealed the deal.

Vael didn't reply.

He just charged.

The staff swung through the air — a wide, clumsy arc. Veltren easily dodged, laughing.

Vael gritted his teeth, feigning desperation. His strikes were erratic but convincing. He stumbled when he had to. Fought back when cornered. Looked wild-eyed and desperate.

Everything was perfect.

Veltren stopped holding back. Fire gathered in his hands — first a spark, then a blaze.

A burning sphere launched into Vael's gut.

The pain was very real.

His staff splintered. His body slammed into the dirt.

Darkness closed in.

The last thing he saw was Veltren's greasy smile above him.

⸻

When Vael next opened his eyes, a familiar white ceiling stared back at him.

The cold, sterile air.

The hum of machinery.

The scent of antiseptic and rot.

He was back.

Vael smirked weakly, chest still burning.

"Success."

Upon waking up, Vael fell right back into the same routine: eat, awaken, fight, train — repeat.

Most events mirrored his previous timeline. The same cold stares, the same stale meals, the same bloodstained arenas. A few things were different, though. For one, Dr. Smith's mood was noticeably worse — more irritable, less amused. And more importantly, Vael was awakened immediately, without delay.

The process hurt just as much as he remembered. The raw mana injection felt like fire threading through his veins. But this time, he was ready.

He understood mana now — how it flowed, how it burned, how it clung to the core. Through sheer will and practiced focus, he managed to absorb far more of it than during his first awakening.

He didn't just awaken.

He began his cultivation journey already at the midpoint of Stage One.

Thanks to that head start and his relentless drive, he reached Stage Two in a record-breaking four months — faster than anyone in the lab had ever seen.

Stage Three of his plan?

A tremendous success.

Now, it was time to prepare for the escape.

The plan to escape was similar to last time: a monster rampage.

Though, this time, it would be intentional. Vael wasn't certain on what happened last time, but if he had to guess, it was a containment breach from one of the stronger test subjects. Perhaps a beast with a rare trait, or one whose mind had finally snapped after years of torture.

Either way, the chaos that ensued was the perfect cover.

This time, Vael would create that chaos himself.

Over the last few weeks, he'd carefully memorized the layout of the lab. Every hallway, every locked door, every patrol route. He even learned the times when the guards rotated shifts — short windows of vulnerability that most wouldn't think twice about.

More importantly, he learned the location of the lower beast holding cells, where the more unstable or dangerous monsters were kept. Getting in was near impossible for most inmates — but Vael was not most inmates.

He waited until the lab was at its quietest.

Then, one night, during a routine cleaning shift — he blinked.

Phase Four had begun.

Navigating through tight maintenance corridors and narrow vents, he reached the sublevel. There, behind enchanted barriers and reinforced glass, roared creatures of all sizes — some skeletal, others covered in jagged armor, a few too alien to describe.

He didn't need to release all of them. Just one. One strong enough to cause a chain reaction.

A twisted hound-like creature caught his eye. It had no mouth, but its chest expanded and contracted with every rasping breath, as though it was constantly suffocating. Etched into its hide were glowing sigils — containment runes meant to keep it subdued.

"Perfect," Vael whispered, placing a hand on the glass. Through it, the beast slowly turned to face him — and stilled.

Then, channeling his mana, Vael forced a distortion into the containment mechanism.

A soft crack echoed through the chamber.

Then, alarms blared.

Red lights flooded the hallway. Screams echoed in the distance. The beast was free — and the rampage had begun.

Now, all he had to do… was survive it.