Adam Jacob's body jerked upright from the cold floor as if pierced by a high-voltage current!
Violent spasms made his spine groan under the strain. Cold sweat had long since soaked through the black Peacekeeper uniform, clinging to his skin with a piercing chill, as if he'd just been hauled from an icy sea.
His heart slammed wildly against his ribs, each beat a dull, shattering echo against its bony cage.
On his retina,the cerulean blue ID "NK-2124-03" hovered coldly, the only coordinate marking his return to this strange future.
"Fire... wax... snake... countdown... Mom——!" Broken words were forced from his cracked lips, carrying the lingering terror. Ignoring the dizziness, his first instinct was to frantically check his body.
His hands scrambled desperately over his skin, searching for the scorching wax stains, burn marks, any anomalous residue from that other place that didn't belong.
His fingertips brushed his chest, where the phantom pain of being scalded by an invisible heat wave seemed to remain.
He looked down sharply, his gaze sweeping like a spotlight over the smooth, cold metal floor beneath him, searching for melted wax droplets, traces of ash, or the scorch marks of that crimson countdown——Nothing.
Only the honeycombed charring left by the energy impact silently testified to the previous entropy energy rampage.
"A hallucination? No... It felt too real..." He forced himself to calm down, closed his eyes, and sank his consciousness inward for internal inspection. The Klein bottle phantom over his heart, forged from entropy energy and willpower... was gone!
At the core of his perception, it wasn't empty. An antique pocket watch hung suspended.
Its case was a matte, dark bronze, etched with intricate, twisted, unidentifiable alien script.
The face wasn't glass but a layer of flowing, semi-transparent energy membrane. Inside, a miniature 3D hourglass operated silently.
In the upper half of the hourglass, silvery-blue particles of order mingled and churned with dark red entropy particles that seemed to carry smoldering embers—likely the chaotic energy Adam had just absorbed at the dream's edge and tamed during his rampage.
The lower half contained pure, colorless granules, like refined sands of time, slowly settling.
Around the edge of the face, seven dark golden markers were arranged like stars, emanating a mysterious, ancient aura.
The strangest part was the watch cover——when Adam focused his consciousness on it, the inside became smooth as a mirror!
Deep within the mirror surface wasn't his own reflection, but a blurry, shifting chaotic scene——the vague outline of a hospital bed was visible, upon which lay a pale, frail figure.
The image flashed by in an instant, yet carried an incredibly real sense of sorrow and concern.
Adam's heart clenched tightly. This pocket watch... this mirror... what were they? Why could he see his mother?
He subconsciously raised a hand to his chest, his fingertips only meeting the cold fabric of his uniform. The pocket watch seemed to exist only within his spiritual perception, undetectable to the outside world.
Adam had just begun to recover from the nightmare, trying to make sense of this enigmatic pocket watch.
Without any warning, Patrick's figure materialized in Adam's field of vision, like a pre-programmed command.
His heterochromatic eyes—ice-blue and mechanical gold—penetrated the faint illusion, landing precisely on Adam with their usual appraisal and calculation.
"Patrick!" Adam ignored the bizarre entrance; the suppressed fear and worry for his mother instantly shattered his forced composure.
He surged to his feet, his voice hoarse and agitated:"What was that vision?! Where's my mom?! The countdown! The wax! The fire! The hospital! And that damned thing in the wall wax——two snakes wrapped around a syringe! What does it have to do with my mom?!" Each word was scorched with soul-deep pain.
Patrick showed no reaction to Adam's agitation. His cold, metallic voice sounded directly inside Adam's skull:
"Gnostic Dream. A concrete mental trial ground for Philosophy Sequence superhumans when their spirit and entropy energy deeply interact, nearing the advancement threshold. Especially for the Dionysian aspect, due to its deep binding with chaotic emotions, the dreams are more distorted and impactful."
"The dream content isn't random. It anchors onto your deepest emotional obsessions and recent encounters with 'high-entropy disturbance points' possessing strong psychic pollution——distorting, amplifying, and reassembling them. Your depth of exploration, intensity of struggle, and level of understanding within it will shape your mastery level over your own entropy authority upon awakening."
Adam's breath hitched.
Patrick's voice continued:"Your core obsession is 'mother and hospital.' And that recent 'high-entropy disturbance point'... Preliminary spectrum tracking indicates its peak fluctuation highly coincides with the highly concentrated entropy pollution released at the moment of Marcus Allen's suicide atop the 'Neoclean' Medical Center."
Adam's pupils constricted sharply! That suicidal idiot! The woman had mentioned him!
"Your subconscious," Patrick's voice was like an icy verdict,
"captured and absorbed the 'pollution traces' permeating the space, directly related to Allen's death. It forcibly fused and distorted with the memory fragments of the hospital deep in your mind within your Gnostic Dream.
Allen's death, Neoclean Hospital, your mother..." his illusory golden eye seemed to flicker,"and that twisted symbol you saw——that is the corporate logo of 'Neoclean Medical.' This entanglement of elements is likely... not coincidental."
"The fact that you not only maintained core consciousness without disintegration during your first out-of-control Gnostic Nightmare but even brought back these key information anchors," Patrick's voice held a trace of faint appreciation for the first time,
"proves your perception and potential conversion talent for entropy energy far exceed initial assessments. But it also means you are extremely sensitive and susceptible to this type of composite pollution."
The warning stabbed into Adam's eardrums like an ice pick:"Remember, the Gnostic Dream is a key, but it can also be the ultimate prison. Indulging too deeply, or refusing to face the core conflict it reveals, could turn you into a new 'source of pollution,' or..."
He paused, uttering cold words,"degenerate into a low-tier entropy beast driven only by instinct. Time does not side with the hesitant. Your sequence grants you ability, but also brings a curse. Philosophy Sequence· Dionysian Aspect, the path of nine stages begins with 'Initial Anchoring'——what you just experienced, finding the reference point of self-definition within chaos."
Patrick's words were like cold anchor stones. The chip in his wrist bone vibrated slightly; the dead badge came back online, projecting a new status:
[Mental Resilience Toughness]:↑15%(Gnostic Dream Trial Gain)
[Entropy Energy Affinity]:↑10%(Philosophy Sequence - Dionysian Aspect Trait Manifestation)
[Pollution Susceptibility]:■■■□□(High Risk - Linked to Abnormal Entropy Pollution Source: Neoclean Medical)
"Your existence has initially stabilized. Now, feel the core of your sequence's power——Logic Perception." Patrick's voice was like a guidance program.
"It is the foundation of the Philosophy Sequence, like an X-ray deconstructing the world. Focus on the residual emotions——fear, worry, anger... feel their 'nodes' and 'flows' on the spiritual level."
Adam closed his eyes, forcing down distracting thoughts. His consciousness sank into the churning vortex of emotions within——the anxiety for his mother, the fear of the waxy symbol and the pollution, the dread of the unknown...
When he tried to "analyze" rather than "resist" those fears, something wonderful happened: the repulsive fear seemed to be wound and parsed by invisible threads of logic, its "structure" becoming slightly clearer in his consciousness.
He could even vaguely "sense" that attacking this "fear node" now might trigger greater mental ripples.
"Good, this is the embryo of 'Logic Perception.' In the future, it will analyze the weaknesses of all things' logical chains." Patrick's voice continued."Trust your instincts... they are closer to the core of power than you think."
The last sentence carried an indescribable meaning.
A piercing buzzer sound exploded without warning in the room! A cold synthetic voice echoed:
"Agent NK-2124-03, Adam Jacob. Director's office. Immediately. Repeat, Director's office. Immediately."
The command was decisive. Adam's eyes snapped open. The cold light of dawn already filtered through the high windows, casting long oblique shadows on the metal floor.
A night of terror and cultivation had left only mental exhaustion and that intangible pocket watch within him. He subconsciously glanced around the room, looking for Patrick's faint illusion——No one.
It was as if the entire exchange had been a hallucination following his mental shock.
"Gone again..." Adam muttered, confusion and unease intertwining. He took a deep breath of the crisp morning air tinged with metal, quickly straightened his still-damp uniform, smoothing out the wrinkles.
Patrick's warnings about pollution and Neoclean echoed in his mind; the logic ability granted by his Philosophy Sequence faintly perceived this as key to breaking the deadlock.
He pushed open the cold metal door, left the isolation chamber, and followed the badge's guidance towards the Peacekeeper Department building.
...
The environment was cold, order severe, a fortress of metal and cool light.
Peacekeeper Department, 11th floor.
At the stairwell entrance, Lena leaned slanted against the metal wall, arms crossed. She didn't speak, just scanned Adam with her eyes, then jerked her chin towards the Director's office, signaling him to follow.
They walked in silence, one after the other, through the empty corridor.
Pushing open the heavy door to the Director's office, a wave of cold orderliness hit them. The room was spacious but sparsely furnished.
Behind a massive black solid wood desk, Director Samuel Kant sat upright.
He wore a sharply tailored dark uniform, a badge depicting precision gears and a cold scale pinned to his collar, symbolizing order and judgment.
Most striking were his eyes: the left was completely covered by a slender projector lens that steadily streamed deep blue data, like a cold mechanical cyber-eye; the right retained its biological features, but its gaze was sharp as a hawk's, with a hint of deep-seated weariness.
Adam's gaze involuntarily swept the room, and his heart clenched! In a previously empty, sleek metal chair placed to the side in front of the Director's massive desk, Patrick sat relaxed!
His form was much more solid than in the isolation chamber—silver-grey hair, heterochromatic ice-blue and mechanical gold eyes, wearing that striking monocle, even a faint, amused curve on his lips.
He looked utterly real, as if he'd been there all along.
Patrick's gaze met Adam's shocked one. His lips didn't move, but a clear, metallic whisper sounded directly in Adam's mind:
"Don't look at me, don't try to speak to me. In their eyes, I just need to be present. My 'status'... is temporarily inconvenient for direct communication with these public officials. You just need to focus on dealing with them. I will... prompt when necessary."
Adam forcibly suppressed the storm in his heart, forcing himself to ignore Patrick's presence and focus his sight on Director Samuel. Though his face was still pale, he tried to stand firm, maintaining eye contact.
Lena's voice broke the silence, cold and precise:"Agent Adam Jacob, ID NK-2124-03. Isolation chamber records indicate a Class C entropy energy loss-of-control incident last night."
Her gaze needled into Adam."Behavioral monitoring analysis shows the event was accompanied by high-amplitude abnormal mental fluctuations. His mental stability and occupational controllability have fallen below safety thresholds. According to regulations, recommend initiating the 'High-Risk Individual Containment Protocol' or enforcing mandatory retirement." The last few words fell like a icy sentence.
"Containment! Locked up means it's over," Adam thought.
"Agent Adam. You have the right to make a statement." Director Samuel's voice rang out, like a code being recited. His data-streaming mechanical eye and his weary, deep right eye both locked onto Adam.
Patrick's voice pierced his mind like a prompt tone:"Regulation Article 17... Right to statement... Procedural justice. They deem you dangerous, yet still give you a chance to speak... Why? Logic Perception... try to analyze it."
This prompt was like a key, instantly activating Adam's newly sprouted Philosophy Sequence ability——Logic Perception. His consciousness swept over the scene before him like intangible feelers.
The core of Lena's accusation——"Loss of control,""Instability,""Threat to safety." This was her basis for pushing containment.
Samuel's stance——He acted according to regulations, emphasizing the "right to statement," meaning he at least followed the rules procedurally.
Patrick's hint——"Procedural justice." They gave me a chance, meaning containment isn't the only option; procedurally, there's still room for maneuver.
The key was to prove his own "controllability" and "value."
Perhaps due to the influx of information or the mental load of using the ability for the first time, a wave of dizziness hit Adam. He staggered half a step before steadying himself.
Lena immediately snapped sharply:"Focus, Agent! Your current state seems worse than reported!"
Adam bit down hard on the tip of his tongue; the sharp pain brought a moment of clarity.
He took a deep breath. His voice was slightly hoarse from tension but he strove to keep it steady:"Director, Agent Thorne. I admit last night's incident was a serious error, stemming from ignorance and loss of control over my own power. This is indisputable."
He admitted the facts first, reducing confrontation.
"But," Adam pivoted, his gaze fixed on Samuel's human right eye,"the loss of control stemmed from the unknown. And after last night... and the trial of the 'Gnostic Dream'..." He deliberately mentioned the term Patrick had used to add credibility,"...I have gained a preliminary but profound understanding of my power's nature——Philosophy Sequence, Dionysian Aspect——and its attendant risks."
He caught a subtle change in Lena's expression and sped up his speech:"The regulations grant me the right to statement not just for accountability, but to assess the balance between risk and value. Containing me eliminates a 'known, learning-to-control risk.' But it also loses an agent who exhibits a violent resonance response with the entropy pollution from the Allen suicide case." He dropped the key point:"Neoclean" and "Allen suicide pollution."
The data stream in Samuel's left eye seemed to flicker slightly, its speed increasing for a moment. The playfulness on Lena's face faded a bit, her eyes turning sharper.
"Agent Thorne mentioned the suicide case of Neoclean's heir, Allen," Adam pressed, seeing Lena's subtle reaction and knowing he'd hit a nerve,"My Gnostic Dream used the residual pollution traces from that very event as one of its core distorted materials. This is no coincidence."
"In the Gnostic Nightmare," Adam's voice carried real fear, his eyes wide with dread,"I saw that pollution manifest as a kind of... activated, twisted, squirming waxy form! It was deeply entangled with the 'Neoclean Medical' logo——two twisted snakes wrapped around a syringe——that symbol pulsed in the wax wall, alive! This is no ordinary suicide residue! It has strong psychic corrosive properties!"
He turned to Samuel, his tone desperate.
"Director, eliminating me, this 'sensor,' will it eliminate that pollution source itself? Can you guarantee the next agent who touches the scene or evidence won't trigger a greater disaster? I may indeed be unstable, but I am also currently the key to tracking and identifying this 'waxy pollution' and its source,'Neoclean'! Destroying the key is like burying a time bomb!"
Lena let out a short, cold laugh:"Waxy pollution source? More like your ravings! Evidence?"
Adam immediately pointed to the badge on his chest:
"The badge status log shows my pollution susceptibility is directly linked to 'Neoclean Medical'!I need a pollution sample to re-examine the scene. Give me the chance, and I can pinpoint it, isolate it, and track its source during the re-examination!"
He activated the badge, projecting two things:
A fragmentary afterimage of a disordered entropy fluctuation spectrum.
The status message:[Pollution Susceptibility]:■■■□□(High Risk - Suspected Link to Abnormal Entropy Pollution Source: Neoclean)
"Look! The residual log captured the abnormal spectrum and a clear pollution link! Agent Thorne, surely you pursue efficiency? Don't you want to solve this hidden danger once and for all, prevent it from erupting in your next case?"
The office sank into a heavy silence. Samuel's data-streaming left eye swept calmly over Adam and Lena. Finally, his human right eye, its gaze sharp, settled on Adam, filled with complex assessment and weighing. He spoke slowly, his voice still cold:
"Statement valid. Risk controllability... questionable. Value point... requires verification." He paused, his gaze shifting to Lena."Agent Thorne, assign him to the 'Ash Division,' third-grade assistant position, effective immediately. You will coordinate with the Psychological Assessment Department for a deep evaluation of his mental stability. Report weekly." His final gaze locked onto Adam, carrying undeniable authority:"One more loss-of-control incident, of any grade, and permanent containment is executed immediately. Understood?"
"Understood, Director!" Adam's heart hammered wildly.
Lena pursed her lips, seemingly unsurprised by the outcome."As you command, Director." She turned to Adam, a humorless smile curling her lips."Welcome to the Ash Division, little Adam. I hope you... and your mind... can behave yourselves among the paperwork." She gave him a meaningful look, then turned and left.
Adam stiffly saluted and exited the office. Leaning against the cold corridor wall, he realized his back was soaked with cold sweat.
His heart still pounded heavily in his chest. Director Kant's final, uncompromising warning and Lena's icy "welcome" rang in his ears.
Ash Division.
He muttered the name under his breath, a thread of self-mockery in it.
From a prisoner nearly contained to an exiled "speck of dust." He had survived. The cost was being drawn deeper into the unknown vortex.