"Boss! Boss, stay with us!" a desperate male voice shouted, trembling with fear. His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Don't you dare close your eyes now! You hear me?! Don't sleep on us, damn it!"
A choked sob followed, softer yet laced with anguish, broke through the haze—this time a woman's and her hand was trembling. "Please... Boss, don't leave us," she whispered, her voice breaking as her sobs catching in her throat. "We still need you… I still need you. Don't go… please don't go..." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pleaded heartbreakingly.
The silence around them felt suffocating—as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting to see if their pleas would reach him.
His eyes cracked open, just barely—thin slits struggling against the weight of his own exhaustion. Everything was a blur, shapes twisting and bleeding into each other in his vision, undefined and distant. But even through the haze, he couldn't see their faces, only silhouettes yet he recognized them.
He knew those voices. The way they trembled, the way they called his name—they were filled with fear, with pain. With hope.
Gunfire cracked like thunder and explosions rattled the earth. The sky roared as jets screamed overhead, their sonic booms rattling through his chest. Somewhere overhead, helicopter blades beat the air like war drums. The grind of metal treads tanks rolling in was deafening and echoed all around.
He could barely hear them now. Their voices… were fading beneath it all.
His body was numb, heavier than stone. He couldn't lift a finger, couldn't speak, couldn't move, not even an inch. But he felt it beneath him, the rattle of metal wheels clattering violently, the jarring bump and scrape of a stretcher racing across broken ground. He was being moved, fast and urgent, dragged across a battlefield, helpless.
Somewhere in the madness, he realized that he's still not dead….yet. Not yet, and someone out there… still refused to let him go.
He could feel the cool pressure of the oxygen mask, pressed gently against his nose and mouth. Each hiss of breath he drew was slow, shallow, ragged, scraping its way through his chest like his lungs were tearing themselves apart.
His vision had already begun to blur, the world fading behind a curtain of exhaustion. His eyelids, unbearably heavy, trembled a few times, fought to have them stay open but failed... then they gave in. Darkness then took the rest, embraced him like a familiar friend.
So tired… I can't… keep them open…
But he could still hear them. The distant shouting, the tremors of chaos, shouts, gunfire, metal clashing around him. Voices he knew, close, familiar, desperate that still called out for him.
"No! Don't die on me, Boss! The chopper's right there! We're almost there!" the man shouted, voice trembling raw, cracking beneath the weight of desperation. The man's hands gripped tighter, as if holding him together with sheer will.
Then came her voice. Softer, but on the verge of breaking.
"Just... just hang in there a little more, Boss!" she cried, her voice shaking with emotion. "You're tough, right? You've never let anything stop you! You've walked through hell and back! So please, just a little longer and we'll get you to the hospital... You're going to be okay because they'll fix you up. Just don't give up, so please….please, don't you dare give up now!"
Her words clung to the air, fragile and trembling, like a final prayer flung into the void. Their words pierced the noise of war like lightning—frantic, helpless, hoping the one they followed would stay with them just a little longer.
Whup... whup... whup...
The distant chopping sound slowly reached his ears, faint at first, but growing louder with each beat.
That sound... A helicopter...
Even in his hazy state, he recognized the noise of the rapid slicing of rotor blades carving through the air. Harsh, powerful gusts struck his face, sending his hair whipping in every direction. The force of it stung against his skin, but it was familiar and is comforting him in its own violent way.
We're close... they're getting me out of here... just a little more...
Hope flickered in his chest, dim but warm. Yet in the end, fate was cruel.
BOOM!
The explosion struck without warning. A flash of light seared through his fading vision, followed immediately by an earth-shaking roar. The ground trembled with dust and heat surged around him. The force of the explosion knocked the stretcher sideways ,metal screamed as it scraped against the ground ,then everything tilted when the stretcher flipped. He felt weightlessness just for a second then he crashed onto the ground, the pain is blunt and cold
"Boss!!"
A panicked voice cried out from the same male, he's desperate.
"No—BOSS!!"
Another fragile and frantic voice followed, the same woman was on the verge of tears.
He couldn't see their faces. But he knew them. Their fear pierced deeper than the blast.
Unfortunately, even those sounds too began to vanish.
As if the world itself was slipping away, piece by piece till just the sound of his own heartbeat slowing down until all that remained... was nothing but silence. Just the cold embrace of unconsciousness, pulling him into the void.
He didn't know how long he'd been trapped in the silence, floating in darkness. There's no light, no sound, no warmth and not even pain. Whether it had been minutes or centuries, he couldn't tell. In that empty void, even the concept of self began to dissolve, reducing to a dull endless nothing.
So….Is this death...?
Until something changed. There's a sound, faint at first, their voices soft and feminine. Then another and another until there's a total of five but each distinct in their own way as they spoke quietly.
They weren't shouting. They weren't crying. They were simply... speaking.
His eyelids stirred, twitching slightly as sensation returned. Slowly, painfully, he cracked open his eyelids as his fingers twitched, catching shallow breaths. Shapes, light and color began to enter his eyes but the world was a blur to him. Five blurry figures standing over him, their faces were indistinct, hidden behind fogged vision but each silhouette gave off a different energy.
What... is this...? Who are they...?
His mind was slow to respond but his heart was racing. Though the world remained unclear, one thing was certain, whoever they were... they weren't ordinary.
"This guy!?" a voice snapped, sharp and fiery, laced with a thick accent that carried the bite of a warrior chieftain. "We spent decades building the summons, crafting every seal, tuning every circuit and you blew all our power to summon this mangled corpse? Are you insane, NuWa!?"
It hit like a slap to the soul. There was no filter but just raw fury. That voice belonged to Sif, and she didn't hold back when lives were on the line.
Another voice followed, calmer, but with an icy weight behind it. Her tone was smooth, deliberate, the kind that made you feel like you were already on trial.
"Our bloodlines, our legacies, our very purpose hangs on this, NuWa," said Isis, her Egyptian accent refined, her words like cold marble. "This war is more than just power. If this man is your answer, I expect an explanation worthy of all we've sacrificed."
Then came a third and she's Athena, clipped and measured, her Greek lilt razor-sharp, intellect dripping from every word. "I must agree with Isis and Sif. From a strategic perspective, this choice is irrational. Look at him, ninety percent of his skin and muscle mass are gone. Only his vital organs are intact. He's no soldier. He's a shattered body at best, a liability at worst. Even if he wakes up, what can he do?"
Even through his haze, her words cut deep. Then, finally, a change in tone.
Soft. Warm. Like the first morning rays after a cold night.
"Please," came the gentle voice of Amaterasu-Ōkami, her Japanese cadence serene, melodic, but unwavering. "Let us not speak from anger or doubt. If Lady NuWa summoned him, then we must allow her the chance to explain. I believe in her judgment."
The tension in the chamber faltered slightly. Her words were like water poured on flame as they are not to extinguish it, but to calm it.
Then, NuWa herself stepped forward.
Her voice was graceful, carrying the subtle musicality of ancient China, her tone neither defensive nor apologetic, but balanced like porcelain hiding the strength of steel.
"I thank you for your trust, Lady Amaterasu," she said with a respectful nod, then turned to the others. "As for the rest… your anger is not misplaced. I expected it."
She paused, letting silence settle like dust before she spoke again but more firmer now.
"But listen carefully. The enemy already knew. They discovered our flaws. Our one blind spot in our world."
Her eyes dropped to the motionless man on the floor.
"And they sent an elite force not to assassinate us, nor our champions but to kill him. To erase him before he ever stepped into our world."
She looked each goddess in the eye now.
"So ask yourselves why? Why they target a so-called 'nobody'? Why waste effort on a dying man unless they feared what he could become?"
The silence that followed was no longer born from disbelief. It was a caution, a meticulous calculation.
And the faint, creeping realization that this man, although now half-dead and broken, might just be the keystone of everything they were trying to protect.
Without warning, the entire chamber was swallowed in flashing red. Sirens wailed across the room, blaring over the once-quiet sanctum. In an instant, the calm was gone and shattered by the shrill sound of danger.
He couldn't lift his head to see much. Still caught in the haze of semi-consciousness, his vision was blurred and smeared with motion. But even in that daze, he could feel it and that's something had gone terribly wrong.
"Damn it!" Sif growled, her voice sharp and raw. Her sword was already out, glinting under the crimson lights. "How the hell did they find us!? This place was supposed to be buried deeper than Helheim! It's supposed to be beneath every detection net we've ever built!"
Isis, standing nearby, moved quickly but didn't panic. Her voice was cool, but her steps were fast."It might just be the outermost perimeter tripping. Could be animals. Could be winds. Doesn't mean they've found the core."
"That's not a chance I'm willing to take," Athena snapped, locking her shield to her arm with a firm click, spun her spear once in her hand before locking in place.. "Even if it's just a probe, it means they're looking. And if they're looking, they're close. We prepare to intercept."
Amaterasu was already striding toward the exit, her usual calm replaced with focused resolve. "Lady NuWa, I'll go with the others to check the perimeter. You stay and oversee the facility. If they…."
"—If they break through, we shut it all down," NuWa interrupted quietly but firmly. She didn't look at any of them as her fingers danced across a glowing panel, triggering encrypted protocols. "All of it. No hesitation. Erase the archives. Terminate every project. Trigger the fail-safe."
The others went quiet. No one wanted to imagine that outcome. But they all knew better than to argue. Even through the blaring alarms, those words struck harder than any weapon.
The sirens kept screaming and somewhere in the far distance, a muted explosion trembled through the walls. The tremors are close enough to shake the ground slightly beneath them.
They didn't have time to waste. He lay there, still broken, still half-conscious and could only listen. Every word they said etched itself into his spinning mind.
Something went wrong and they are coming. Something they hadn't prepared for and he, whoever he was now was somehow right in the center of it all.
The five women turned and walked away, their voices fading along with their silhouettes, swallowed by the dim red light. He wanted to call them out, to ask them: why him? What did they mean by "flaw"? But he couldn't even lift his tongue as his body had nothing left to give.
His eyes were already hanging heavy and then finally shut, sleep took him before he could make sense of any of it. But this time, the void felt different as there's no dream, no pain, no warmth, just silence.
He didn't know how long it lasted, whether it be seconds, hours, days. There was no way to tell in that abyss. Only the fragments of their conversation remained, echoing faintly in his mind like distant thunder:
"This broken nobody..."
"They sent a force just to kill him..."
"Terminate all processes if they find this place..."
He didn't understand it, not yet but one thing was clear and that's whatever they did to him, whoever he was… it wasn't over. Then something pierced the quiet, a faint sound that's mechanical is pulsing.
WEE-oo... WEE-oo...
It got louder and sharper, closer as each second passed until it felt like the alarm was inside his skull, forcing his senses awake. His eyes blinked open but everything was sluggish and burning. At first, everything was just a blur, distorted outlines under the cold light. The gentle ripple of something fluid moving around him. Then clarity hit….and panic.
He's enclosed in a pod and is floating surrounded by thick metal walls and a broad pane of reinforced glass in front of him. Liquid submerged him in is cool and azure yet unnaturally clear. His heart jumped because of what he is experiencing now.
Am I underwater?!
He opened his mouth to scream, and bubbles rushed upward. Reflexively, he inhaled and pain exploded through his chest. His body screamed and his lungs were tightening in protest.
I'm drowning—get me out!
He thrashed as adrenaline overriding thought. His fists slammed against the glass repeatedly. Well at the very least, they tried to and then that's when he saw his hand….no, his arm.
Gone was the flesh and now replaced it was metal. It's cold, synthetic and gleaming with faint, pulsating lines of energy where veins once ran. He froze at the sight of it, his breathing, if it could still be called that had turned ragged. The fluid in his lungs no longer felt burned, but the sensation of drowning still felt alien and so wrong. Are the liquids submerging him breathable?
What did they do to him? Why was he alive at all?
And more importantly is that who had he been… before they turned him into this? Then something inside him snapped.
Fear gave way to instinct then panic and rage emerged. Whatever they had done to him or whoever they even were didn't matter already. Especially not now, not when his chest felt like it was about to cave in from breathing this unnatural fluid, not when he was trapped like a fish in an aquarium. He needed to get out, now.
With a strained grunt, he clenched his metal fist and drove it into the glass. A dull thump echoed in the fluid. Then another and another yet the resistance was maddening that every movement felt like he was punching through syrup. But he didn't stop, continuing to punch it again and again.
Let me out.
Pain crawled through his shoulder. Fatigue set in fast, dragging at his limbs like anchors. He could feel his breathing hitch, his body trying to reject the fluid that filled his lungs, even if somehow he could breathe in it.
Crack.
A small fracture traced across the glass and his heart jumped. He struck again and it's even harder, more fueled by a mix of hope and desperation. The fracture deepened, spread then tiny webs of stress lines bloomed like frost. In the end….
BOOM!
The glass burst outward in a deafening roar. The pressure from the liquid erupted, dragging him with it. For a moment, all he felt was the rush of water surging past his ears, blinding him and tossing him like a ragdoll.
He hit the cold metal floor hard but fortunately landed on hands and knees. His coughs came in fits, wet and violent, as he spat out the last of the synthetic fluid clinging to his throat. To his sensation, the air was dry but real. Although it felt burned, it was air. He stayed there, hunched over and shaking. His hair clung to his face, water dripping from his body in uneven streams. He raised his hand and froze.
A metal forearm gleamed under the stark light. It's smooth, segmented yet feels inhuman. He stared at it without a minor move and as reality started to set in.
They didn't just keep him here. They changed him.
And somewhere deep in his gut, a single thought formed and it's sharp, quiet, and burning:
What the hell did they turn me into?
"Warning. Breach detected. Releasing the containment pod."
The voice was cold, emotionless like it had no idea someone had just fought for their life inside that thing. With a hiss of pressure and the low grind of metal shifting, the front of the pod slowly lifted outward, letting a rush of cold air spill in.
He slumped forward with a wet gasp, coughing violently as thick fluid poured from his mouth. His lungs burned, his ribs ached, but he was breathing, still barely though.
"Khak—! … Pod?" he muttered between coughs, dragging in shaky breaths.
"That thing felt more like a damn coffin…" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, water still dripping off his chin. Then he glanced back at the wrecked chamber he'd just clawed his way out of. The glass shards, bent steel, and a pool of blue liquid spreading across the floor.
"Yeah," he muttered, voice hoarse. "Definitely a coffin."
The pain hit him hard and tight in the chest, sharp in the head. His stomach twisted, and before he could even turn away, he was already vomiting.
Thick and bitter bile splashed onto the floor, mixing with the remnants of the blue liquid that had filled the pod. The mix turned a sickly swirl of green, yellow, and pale azure, spreading across the cold metal surface like a foul stain. It smelled of chemicals and stomach acid but he didn't care.
He fell backward with a grunt, landing on a part of the floor that's untouched by his own filth. It was cold and unforgiving but it held him and that was enough.
The siren still wailed, red lights flashing in a steady rhythm, but it all felt far away now, almost muted like it was echoing through water or maybe his mind was just shutting down. He lay there, staring blankly at the bare gray steel ceiling, just like the floor. Red light blinked across it again and again. One flash, two, three and soon, he lost count of it.
His chest rose and fell, each breath steadier than the last. Then he moved slowly, not his legs, not his head but just his right arm. It rose into view, sluggish and heavy. He stared at the metal. Its clean lines of matte black and chrome caught the red light as it passed. A machine replaced where his arm should've been.
His right arm moved when he told it to, each finger flexed and curled with uncanny precision but there was no feeling. No warmth, no weight, like watching someone else's hand respond to his commands. And yet, somehow, his brain tried to convince him otherwise. It told him the limb was still his but just different now. That lie is so soft, so insistent that only made it worse.
He could still feel something that wasn't there. A tingle beneath skin that no longer existed. Phantom pain, like static buzzing in the nerves. The metal moved too perfectly, as if trying to imitate muscle memory, but it was hollow and soulless.
He exhaled, long and shaky, then pushed himself upright. Muscles screamed in protest and bones felt like lead. With a groan, he shifted into a sitting position, crossing his legs to keep from toppling over. His back leaned against the nearest support and cold metal pressing into damp skin. For a few seconds, he just sat there breathing, trying to quiet the storm in his head.
When he finally looked around, the scale of the room settled in. He was in a circular chamber, wide and enclosed. The floor beneath him was dull steel, scuffed and aged. Overhead, a mechanical arm stretched down from the high ceiling, holding the strange pod he'd been trapped in. The thing looked more like a suspended coffin than a medical device.
Red emergency lights flashed in timed intervals, bathing the room in an unsettling rhythm of color and shadow. Each pulse gave the impression of a heartbeat, slow, methodical, and far too alive for comfort.
The walls curved all the way around, smooth and unbroken, forming a perfect ring. No doors, no windows but Just rust creeping along the seams where metal met metal, staining the gray with deep browns and reds, like dried blood. The only sounds were the fading echo of the siren and the distant hum of machinery still working in the dark.
He winced as he tried to turn his neck only to feel something tug sharply at the skin near the back of it. It's solid and cold, like metal fused to his spine. His fingers instinctively reached for it, brushing over the surface of something hard and unfamiliar, half embedded into him.
His heart thudded and he needed to see what it was. He scanned the floor, spotted a shard of broken glass nearby, and reached for it with shaky fingers. Angling it behind him, he tried to catch even a glimpse but the angle just wouldn't work. The damn thing was buried in his blind spot.
He dropped the shard back down in frustration, but his breath caught when he noticed something else and that's his reflection.
The man inside the glass staring back at him didn't look right. His hair was long, tangled, and unkempt, draping to his shoulders in wild strands that shimmered with a strange, translucent white that's almost like fine glass threads. The same pale color ran through his beard, which was patchy and rough across his chin and jaw, giving him a weathered, older look. But oddly enough, his skin was mostly smooth, unmarred by time but just a few faint lines at the edges of his eyes.
He looked… older, but didn't age. With a hesitant hand, he reached up and ran his fingers through the strange white hair. It felt normal as they were giving him a warm and real feeling but his gut told him it wasn't. Well, not entirely.
His eyes met his own in the reflection, his eyes still shimmering in the same obsidian black. Although he remains mostly unchanged, familiar and yet, he felt like a stranger in his own skin.
"What the hell did they do to me…?" he murmured, voice hoarse and distant.
He hesitated, then slowly reached behind his neck. His fingers brushed against something cold and rigid like a metal, embedded deep under his skin. He winced and it tugged slightly when he moved, like a wire threaded into his spine. He didn't know what it was or what it might do. Just touching it made his chest tighten with a dull sense of dread.
Then, out of nowhere, a faint pulse shimmered across his chest. A perfect white circle of light flared to life just below his collarbone in a silent, clean and unnerving feel. It lingered for only a second before dimming out, leaving behind a warm echo under his skin.
"What the hell was that…?" he muttered, startled.
He ran his hand carefully over the spot where the light had appeared but there's nothing, no heat, no pain, no hum but just bare skin. There's no answers, no voice but just silence and the sound of his shallow breathing.
His gaze drifted down, and what he saw made his stomach twist.
He was naked, his body stripped to the basics that his skin stretched tightly over bones, muscle barely hanging on. His ribs pressed against his chest like scaffolding. His arms once strong now looked fragile, almost brittle. He barely recognized himself.
"…How long have I been like this?" The words came out quieter than he expected, almost lost in the air.
The sterile, monotone voice echoed through the chamber like a verdict.
"Subject confirmed on platform. Initiating energy transfer protocol."
His body tensed.
"Wait—what? What the hell does that mean?" he blurted out, eyes darting around the room.
"Power transfer? To me?"
A low hum vibrated beneath his feet, subtle at first then rising like a pressure building inside a sealed container. The circle on his chest began to flicker faintly, pulsing with light.
He backed up a step but there was nowhere to go. The platform beneath him lit up, casting his shadow long and distorted on the cold, grey walls. His heart hammered against his ribs and each beat swallowed by the rising hum surrounding him. Yet still, the system said nothing as it just moved forward relentlessly and automatically.
The floor beneath him began to hum with life. A soft glow radiated from the center of the platform, spreading outward in smooth, rhythmic pulses. Lines of light traced an intricate pattern beneath his feet, eight symmetrical trigrams forming a Bagua diagram along with the Yin-Yang symbol glowing faintly at its heart.
He looked up, startled to find the ceiling mirroring the exact same formation. The lights overhead responded in kind, casting an otherworldly sheen down onto him. It felt deliberate, like he was being scanned or chosen.
Then came the mechanical whir behind him. The broken pod, now empty and useless, was being lifted away by the robotic arm that once held it. It glided along a track toward the wall, clearing the stage for whatever was about to happen. Only he remained, standing at the center of the ancient-looking circuitry now humming with power.
Whatever this was, it wasn't just a system booting up. It felt like a ceremony and he was the subject.
"Commencing power charge." the mechanical voice rang out in a cold and emotionless tone.
A deep hum rolled through the room as the Yin-Yang symbols, one beneath his feet and the other above lit up and began to spin, slowly at first, then faster with every second. The light pulsed, growing brighter until it bathed him in a blinding white glow.
Then it hit him.
"GAH—!"
His body arched violently as raw energy surged up through the platform and into his core. It was like lightning poured straight into his bones. The sharp and burning sensation had every muscle seized. His mechanical arm twitches uncontrollably, the metal fingers spasming in sync with the convulsions wracking his frame.
He gritted his teeth, his breath caught somewhere between a scream and a gasp, unable to tell if he was being torn apart or remade. It wasn't just from the pain though the pain was unbearable but it was the sheer helplessness of it. His body tried to collapse, to crumple under the agony, but something held him up unseen and unyielding. He was locked in place, legs trembling, spine arching, yet frozen like a marionette suspended on invisible strings.
Then it hit him again.
A magnetic pull, sharp and sudden, yanked him into the air. His limbs flailed for only a second before they were stretched outward, held apart by some invisible force. His back arched and muscles seizing, every joint pulled taut like a wire about to snap.
His chest burned. His skin flushed red, and the veins beneath surged up like they were trying to burst free. They pulsed with an unnatural rhythm that's too fast, too strong. It was as if fire had replaced his blood, running wild through every artery, setting every nerve alight. He could barely breathe.
A flat, almost lifeless male voice echoed from somewhere above, cutting through the thick haze of pain clouding his mind.
"Initializing synthetic augmentation..."
"Graphene skin layer—activated. Efficiency: default. Visual camouflage: human dermis."
"Boron Nitride nanotube musculature—online. Functionality set. Appearance normalized to human muscle structure."
"Aerogel vascular system—engaged. Arterial flow stabilized. Mimicking biological patterns"
"Optical fiber nerves and neural pathways—connected. Signal response: within range. Mimicry: human nervous system."
"Silicon Carbide skeletal framework—initialized. Structural integrity: optimal. Visual disguise: organic bone."
"Lonsdaleite optical units—activated. Overlay system synchronized with ocular input. Camouflage engaged."
Then there was a pause in between. It's brief but loaded before the voice continued.
"System 'Ji-Ultimate' system is now active."
A low hum began to rise through the floor beneath him, the platform vibrating subtly as energy surged around his body.
"Warning: Power core unstable. Facility running on emergency reserves. Unable to achieve full system charge.
"Current performance: Basic mode. Energy-saving protocols: active."
The voice faded into silence, leaving him with a chest still heaving, nerves burning with the aftershock of activation with a creeping awareness that something inside him had just permanently changed.
The invisible force holding him snapped away and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. His body trembled, still wracked with pain from the ordeal. He's still shaking and he raised his hands into view, staring at them as disbelief and fear churned in his chest.
"What am I now?" he whispered with a voice cracking with confusion. "There's nothing organic left... Am I really just a cyborg?"
A soft hiss echoed somewhere in the distance, like gas escaping under pressure. Slowly, the towering metal walls around him slid open, retracting smoothly and revealing enormous, borderless windows. His heart pounded as his eyes took in the sight beyond: the Earth, a glowing blue sphere suspended in the blackness of space, the sun's fiery light haloing behind it.
"No... this can't be real." His voice trembled in a mix of awe and panic. "Where am I? What am I? Why am I... out here in space?