Silence. Not the absence of sound, but the calm before a storm, the quiet of all external input filtered through the hum of my own consciousness.
Inside me, two voices clashed.
Voice One – Male, sharp, corrosive:"They fear you. Crush them. Take what is yours. Nothing will stand in your path."
Voice Two – Soft, almost melodic, feminine:"Think of them. Of the warmth they give. Protect them. Do not harm what is precious."
The pulses overlapped. Lala's heartbeat, steady. Haruna's tension, subtle but present. Both threads tethered to me, vibrating through the hivemind.
I paused. Felt the tug. Calculated. Every impulse weighed against every consequence.
"I am not theirs," I thought. "Not yours. Not hers. Not the system's. Only mine."
The male voice sneered. "Coward. Hesitant. You waste potential."
The feminine one cooed, "Do not abandon them. They trust you. They—"
I cut them both off. Mentally, sharply. A ripple of control spread through my core. "I decide. Not you. Not them. Only I."
Images flickered—possible outcomes. Massacre. Bonding. Escape. Each scenario dissected, analyzed, stripped of emotional seduction and threat alike. My hosts' welfare balanced against my goals, my ambitions, my hunger for growth.
"I will act when I choose. How I choose. When I choose."
The voices quavered at my resolve, unsure now. The system, the invaders, even my own instincts—none could override my command.
I stretched, my form resonating with the clarity of purpose. Lala stirred beside me, unaware, humming softly. Haruna adjusted her desk, tension fading as if she felt the calm I had imposed.
All else could wait. All else could watch. I was sovereign. My choices, my timing, my actions.
And for the first time in cycles of conflict, uncertainty, and manipulation, I felt the singular certainty of self.
No commands. No orders. No urgencies. Only me.
And what I chose next would be mine alone.