The lower levels of Facility Zero were colder, darker. Few ventured this deep.
Dr. Nerion walked alone, a datapad in hand, displaying synchronized readings of Haio's specs.
He reviewed them one by one.
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Tissue Forge—already merging with Haio's adaptive muscle fibers. It would allow him to forge strength or speed at will. Nerion had designed it based on obsidian spiders, whose muscle silk could lift ten thousand times its mass.
Energy Reservoir—the power core. Haio's every motion would fuel his own arsenal. In motion, he would become a storm. At rest, a fuse waiting to ignite.
Erode—his most dangerous offensive tool. A touch could unravel steel, bone, or armor. Nerion had narrowed its molecular decay field to respond to intent, not reflex. Still... gloves would be mandatory during social exposure.
Vital Bloom—the miracle. A Spec derived from bio-healing lotus DNA. This would let Haio survive battlefield trauma, heal others, and perhaps even delay his own aging. Nerion designed it to protect the boy from what the others might cost him.
Quirkscope—analyzing foes with terrifying accuracy. It was still unstable, syncing with his developing occipital lobe. But once complete, Haio would see everything—flaws, limits, strategies. No opponent would hide from him.
Echo Reservoir—the final layer of his defensive protocol. Every blow taken became power stored. A perfect fit for ambushes, counterattacks, or overwhelming retaliation.
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> "He's more than the sum of these abilities," Nerion muttered, "but each was built with purpose."
He looked up at the containment feed again, wirelessly linked to his datapad.
Haio floated motionless now—dreaming, maybe. Neural flickers suggested high-order thoughts. His subconscious was active. That wasn't expected.
A thought occurred to Nerion. A dangerous one.
> Is he already becoming self-aware?
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Back in the chamber, a slow blink of light swept across Haio's chest—then his eyes twitched under closed lids.
The dream grew clearer.
He saw light. A voice, muffled and distorted. Something about "a gift... and a curse."
A memory not his own.
A presence at the edge of thought.
And then—nothing.
---
Far above, the sirens remained silent. The world didn't know that its balance had already shifted.
Haio Starveil was beginning to wake.
And soon, the world would have to answer for what his father had created.