The lab's red light dimmed to a pulse. Like a heartbeat—slow, cautious, waiting.
Veylan held the syringe carefully between gloved fingers. Inside, the Energy Fluid shimmered with liquid fire, alive and deadly. Each swirl felt like a countdown.
"Alright," Veylan muttered, adjusting the dial on the side of the injector. "Almost ready."
Saro sat nearby on a steel bench, hunched over, breathing fast. His hands shook—fingers twitching like they already felt the pain to come.
"Veylan…" he whispered.
The old man glanced up. "What's up?"
Saro's voice dropped to a hush. His eyes locked to the ground.
"Promise me…" he said. "If I don't survive this—" "…Take care of my parents."
Veylan went still. For a moment, even the machines seemed to fall silent.
"I swear," he said. "If Riven ever comes… I'll protect them with my life."
Saro gave a slow nod. Then closed his eyes.
A soft hiss filled the air.
Click. Hiss.
The needle slid in.
And just like that…
The blood of machines entered human veins.
Veylan backed away, watching every twitch, every breath.
"One… two… three…"
Saro sat still, a single bead of sweat forming. Then another. Then—
He blinked. Slowly opened one eye.
"…Nothing?"
Veylan's eyes widened.
"No way," he whispered. "This is impossible…"
He grabbed the capsule from the tray, flipping it over in disbelief.
"That was the last one," he muttered. "The last capsule I ever made…"
Saro leaned forward, brow furrowing.
"Maybe it just takes a while?" he offered. "Like… more than a second?"
Veylan shook his head. "No. It hits instantly. That's how it works. Always has."
Saro tapped his chin.
"Maybe 'cause I'm a teenager? My immunity's stronger?"
Veylan froze. That shouldn't matter.
Or… could it?
Before he could spiral into calculations, Saro suddenly jumped up, eyes wild.
"UH-OHHH!"
Veylan startled. "What?!"
Saro pointed—frantic—toward the glowing wall clock.
"IT'S 5:27 PM!" he yelled. "I'm gonna get destroyed by Mom!"
"Open that gate!! Hurry!!"
Veylan sighed and muttered, "Alright, alright—go."
The gate flared open. Red light bathed the room.
Saro bolted.
"Bye, mysterious man!" he shouted mid-run.
"Bye… hope," Veylan whispered back with a faint smirk.
The gate hissed shut behind him.
Then silence.
Veylan slowly lowered himself into a nearby chair, setting his gun down beside him. His shoulders slumped.
"Please…" he thought.
"Let it work.
Or we're all finished."
---
Saro sprinted down the cracked sidewalks of his neighborhood, breath shallow and rapid.
pant… pant… pant…
The sky had darkened, clouds still heavy from earlier rain. Ahead of him, at the doorstep of a small worn-down home, stood a woman.
His mother.
Naomi.
She was thin. Pale. But alert. Her arms folded tight as she waited at the door.
Saro skidded to a stop, practically choking on his own breath.
"M-Mom—! I'm home!"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Where were you?"
Saro coughed, holding his chest like it might burst.
"W-Water first… please…"
Naomi exhaled, stepped aside.
"Get inside."
A moment later, Saro chugged a glass of water like it was his first drink in days. Naomi watched him from across the table—her eyes always sharper than she let on.
"Where were you?"
He looked up slowly.
"…Library," he said. "Reading something crispy."
Naomi raised an eyebrow. But then—she smiled, just barely.
"Reading? Good," she said. "Then I'm confident you'll pass this time."
Saro gave a faint nod and retreated to his room.
The lights were dim.
The silence deeper than usual.
He sat on his bed, staring at the wall like it might give answers.
His body felt… warm.
No pain.
No bleeding.
No screaming organs or broken bones.
Not yet.
His voice came in a whisper, trembling like a secret.
"…When will it start?"
"The pain… the suffering…"
The boy who volunteered to burn from the inside out…
Now sat waiting
for the fire to begin.