That night, Anthony dreamt of a vast dark expanse, filled with swirling patterns and glowing shapes—alien symbols suspended mid-air.
A voice echoed through the void, deep and impossible.
> "The Pulse did not choose randomly."
He woke gasping, drenched in sweat.
Outside, drones buzzed by, scanning buildings. Confidence was already up, hunched over encrypted radio signals.
"They're rounding up Variants by the dozen," she said. "No trials. No questions."
Anthony touched the steel bed frame. It vibrated unnaturally—his presence disrupting the material.
"I need answers," he muttered. "And if they won't give them... I'll tear the truth out myself."
He stared at his hands. They hummed faintly with unreadable energy.
Something alien was waking up inside him.
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