Chapter 2: Crystal Implantation
"Master Kyle, Miss Alice has left. It's time to prepare."
Kyle was deep in thought, trying to figure out the fastest way to earn more draw chances. Money? Influence? Chaos? Anything that would allow him to spin the reward wheel again.
But his planning was interrupted as the door swung open and his long-time butler, Mr. Valen, stepped inside.
A glance at his daily planner reminded Kyle—today was the big day.
He snatched up his jacket and headed out the door.
"You sure about this, Valen?" Kyle asked as they walked down the sleek marble corridor. The butler kept pace beside him, calm and dignified as ever.
The first test subject for the Type-7 Crystal... was him.
Valen wasn't just a butler—he was a veteran of World War II, one of the last living soldiers who had survived both the Battle of the Bulge and Kasserine Pass. Nearly seventy, and yet his frame was solid as a rock. Kyle had seen him doing combat drills in the estate courtyard that morning.
Classic old soldier—tougher than steel and twice as stubborn.
"I've been ready ever since you told me what this thing could do," Valen said, voice low but resolute. Unlike most, he'd never married or started a family after the war. His entire adult life had been dedicated to the Vought estate. Kyle was the closest thing to a son he had.
But time was catching up to him. The aches, the slowness. He felt it. That's why he volunteered to be the first.
Kyle sighed. He hated this.
The crystal could be a miracle—or a death sentence. If the subject's body couldn't handle the genetic upheaval, the result was a violent and painful end. He'd told Valen this. Over and over.
But the old man wouldn't budge.
Ding.
The elevator stopped on the 28th floor. The doors opened to a sterile white corridor lined with biometric scanners and retinal locks. This was the temporary lab for the Type-7 project—until the underground facility was completed, at least.
Eventually, the entire operation would be relocated below the estate. Then this floor could be repurposed as a cosmetics R&D lab—a clean cover.
"Boss, the crystal's final diagnostics are complete. It's stable. We're ready for implantation," the lab director announced, stepping forward to greet them. Kyle had gone to great lengths (and made a few under-the-table deals) to assemble this elite team.
After all, secrecy was everything. These researchers weren't friends. They were employees. And employees could talk.
So he made sure none of them had the full picture.
The director led them toward the containment chamber, where a fist-sized hunk of glowing crystal floated inside a reinforced magnetic field. Kyle winced a little when he saw it.
That thing had cost him nearly everything.
Cars. Properties. Even his limited-edition memorabilia collection. He was down to a beat-up $10,000 sedan for transportation.
"All right. Prep the room. Valen's ready," Kyle said, waving a hand.
The director nodded and began the sequence, leading Valen toward the surgical wing.
Kyle remained behind, staring at the crystal.
It was irregular and orb-like, veined with glowing grey lines that pulsed with violet energy. Just five centimetres long and one centimetre wide—once implanted into a host, it would begin the transformation. Evolution, at the cellular level.
But it wasn't safe.
The fatality rate was terrifying.
Kyle had already sent out word: find suitable test candidates. People who were loyal, mentally strong, and easy to control—preferably those with emotional weaknesses he could exploit.
"Superhero branding might be a goldmine," Kyle mused. His mind shifted tracks. In his last life, he'd watched a certain superhero-themed show where Vought made billions just off hero merchandise and PR.
This was the same name, the same world, more or less. If they could do it, so could he.
Maybe someday his hero squad could rival the Avengers.
"Sir," the lab director returned, now dressed in a yellow hazmat suit. "We're ready. Please proceed to the observation chamber."
Kyle followed, entering a sealed viewing room behind a wall of ultra-toughened glass. The entire setup looked like something ripped out of a sci-fi blockbuster.
He raised an eyebrow. "This rig looks expensive."
The director flinched slightly. "W-we should focus on the procedure for now…"
Kyle narrowed his golden eyes.
He'd caught them once before—sleeping on a mattress of money like a dragon hoarding treasure. They knew better than to test his patience.
"Send me the full cost breakdown to my office by the end of the day."
The director nodded quickly and vanished.
Through the thick glass, Kyle saw Valen standing calmly inside the chamber, stripped down to his briefs. Around him, technicians in lab coats fine-tuned the equipment, prepping the implant capsule.
This was it.
The first human trial.
Subject 087.
The previous 86 had been animals—every last one of them dead within minutes of implantation. Exploded from the inside out.
And those doses were only a fraction of the human-grade crystal.
"Boss, just a heads-up," the director said nervously. "The next few minutes could be… intense."
Kyle didn't respond. He simply nodded, jaw clenched.
The silver pod hissed open, like a blooming flower of steel.
Inside, Valen lay back. A faint mist of anaesthetic filled the chamber, and soon his body relaxed. An incision was made just beneath his sternum, and a robotic arm carefully inserted the long, narrow shard of Type-7 crystal into his body.
Then the surgical bots began closing him up.
Kyle didn't blink.
Time passed slowly.
"Boss…" the director whispered. "We're ready to open the pod."
Kyle said nothing—just gave a sharp nod.
The operator pressed a button.
And the pod slowly, silently opened.
(End of Chapter)
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