The man in the pristine white suit stood like a ghost among the ruins of an abandoned hospital's pediatric wing. His face held the kind of innocent charm that belonged in children's books, not blood stained corridors.
Behind him, figures in black tactical gear moved with military precision, their boots crunching over shattered glass and debris.
Dr. Andreas Keller adjusted his cufflinks, surveying the aftermath with detached curiosity. The emergency lighting cast everything in harsh red shadows, making the carnage look like a film set waiting for the director to call action.
"Sir," one of his men approached, helmet tucked under his arm. "Preliminary report. Dr. Vega is confirmed dead. The intruder destroyed most of the lab equipment and freed the remaining test subjects.""How unfortunate." Keller's voice carried the same tone someone might use to comment on bad weather. "And the serum samples?""All destroyed, sir. Nothing salvageable.
A nurse cowered near the reception desk, her scrubs torn and stained. She'd been trying to make herself invisible since the black-clad soldiers had arrived, but Keller's pale eyes found her anyway."You there." His smile was warm, fatherly. "Come here, please."The woman approached on trembling legs, her name tag reading 'Maria Santos.' She couldn't have been older than twenty-five."Maria, isn't it? Such a pretty name." Keller's tone was gentle, conversational. "Tell me, did any of your colleagues survive the incident? Anyone who might have worked closely with Dr. Vega's research?""I... I don't know, sir.
Everything happened so fast. The explosions, the screaming..." Maria's voice cracked."Of course, of course. Traumatic experiences can be so disorienting." Keller nodded sympathetically. "But surely someone here understood Dr. Vega's methods? The serum composition? The integration process?"Maria shook her head frantically. "She never let anyone else see the formulas. Said it was too dangerous and complex. Only she knew the exact procedures.
Keller's smile never wavered, but something cold brew behind those innocent eyes.
He turned to address the dozen other survivors; nurses, orderlies, a few older children who'd been deemed 'unsuitable' for the final experiments.
"Ladies and gentlemen, children. I want you to know how grateful Kaiser is for your service. Your contributions to our research have been... invaluable." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Our goal has always been simple: to bridge the gap between the blessed and the crestless. To give power to those who deserve it, not just those born with it."Murmurs of agreement rippled through the small crowd. Some nodded eagerly, still believing they were part of something noble.
"Unfortunately," Keller continued, turning his back to them, "with Dr. Vega's research destroyed and no one capable of replicating her work..." He sighed, a sound heavy with regret. "Well, you've all outlived your usefulness."The silence stretched like a held breath."Kill them all," Keller said conversationally, adjusting his tie. "Oh, and start with the children" .
The screaming began immediately.
Marcus jolted awake to the drone of theoretical physics. The lecture hall materialized around him, tiered seating, floating equations, and more red blazers than a political rally. Professor Chen was mid-sentence rambling about equilibrium, his voice carrying the enthusiasm of someone reading a grocery list.
Where the hell am I?The thought hit him like cold water. This wasn't the hospital nor his shoebox apartment. The hands resting on the desk weren't his too, they weresmooth, too young, with calluses in completely different places.
"—which brings us to the fundamental question of rift stability coefficients during variant manifestation..."
Fragments of knowledge bubbled up from nowhere. March 15, 2010. Eastern Africa. The first rift. Casualty statistics that made his stomach turn.
How do I know this?Class ended in a blur of closing tablets and shuffling feet. Marcus gathered belongings he didn't remember owning and stumbled toward what his body seemed to think was the nearest bathroom. The mirror showed him a face that definitely wasn't his own. Sharp jawline, dark hair, blue eyes that held intelligence and exhaustion in equal measure.
The face of the hooded figure from the lab. The one who'd raised a sword over his dying body.
Marcus screamed. High, sharp, and decidedly undignified.
"Damn, bro," laughed a voice from behind him. A student emerged from a stall, shaking his head. "I mean, I'd scream too if I looked like that, but you don't have to be so dramatic about it."Rage flared in Marcus's chest, hot and immediate.
His eyes blazed electric blue, and every light fixture in the bathroom sparked. The other student's laughter died as sparks rained down around them.
"What the—" The guy bolted, leaving Marcus alone with the dying lights.Marcus stared at his reflection, then down at his hands. The right one wore a black leather glove. With trembling fingers, he peeled it away to reveal a mark on his palm. blue lines forming the shape of a tiger, glowing faintly in the dim light.Crest bearer. Like the vigilante. Like..."Like me. "
He whispered to his stolen reflection.The pieces crashed together. The hooded figure. The sword. The blue eyes. The lightning abilities.He was wearing the face of his killer.
Marcus stumbled through hallways that felt familiar despite being completely foreign.
Students moved in clusters, some literally floating as they walked, others manipulating elements like party tricks. The architecture was stunning; crystal spires connected by bridges that defied physics, gardens that grew in midair.
"Yo, Huey!"The voice made him turn. A tall guy with messy hair and green squinting eyes jogged up, wearing the same red blazer, but with a grey hoodie over it."Willy".
The name came from nowhere, along with fragments of shared memories. Cousin. Best friend. Partner in academic crime."You just disappeared after the lecture," Willy complained. "Left me sitting there like an idiot. And after I did that thing you asked me to
do.""Thing?" Marcus tried to sound casual.
"The surveillance footage? From two weeks ago? Wheeler spent half the night sneaking through the security office for that."As if summoned by his name, a translucent squirrel materialized in the air between them, made entirely of compressed wind. It chittered once at Marcus, then flew behind Willy's shoulder and crossed its tiny arms defensively.
"Weird," Willy muttered. "Wheeler usually loves you. Wonder what crawled up his tail."
They walked through the main courtyard, past fountains that flowed upward and students practicing combat techniques on floating platforms. In the distance, Marcus could see what looked like a massive glass cube, its interior lit by flashing lights and the sounds of impacts."The Cube," Willy explained, following his gaze. "The combat department is training right now. Want to check it out?"Inside the transparent structure, two students circled each other in training gear. One was a bulky guy whose aura bent the gravity around him, making debris orbit his body like satellites. His opponent was smaller, more elegant.She moved like water given form, her attacks flowing from one into the next with deadly grace.
When she struck, ice crystals exploded from the impact points, and the temperature in the observation area dropped noticeably. The gravity manipulator tried to pin her with increased weight, but she simply flowed around his attacks, ice forming beneath her feet to give her perfect traction. The match ended when she caught him in a spiral of frozen air that locked his movements completely.When she removed her helmet, Marcus's breath caught.Purple-gray braids fell around a face that belonged in renaissance paintings. But it was her eyes that stopped conversations; pitch black where they should have been white, with bright silver rings at the center that seemed to glow with their own light."Mira Veltman," someone whispered. "Omega-class ice symbiont.""Heard she froze a Level 3 aberrant solid last month," another student murmured. "Didn't even break a sweat."Those impossible eyes swept the observation deck and locked onto Marcus for a heartbeat. He looked away quickly, heat rushing to his cheeks."Don't even think about it," Willy chuckled. "Girls like that don't date down, Way down."
Galileo Hall rose like a fusion of modern architecture and medieval castle, all sharp angles and impossible overhangs. Marcus found room twenty two by following muscle memory, noting how the number plate was slightly wrong; two zeros making it look like 202 instead of 22.Sounds from inside made him pause. Voices, laughter, and other activities he definitely didn't want to witness. Through a crack in the door, he glimpsed his roommate. Calvin, the name surfaced automatically, in a compromising position with a blonde girl. Marcus closed the door quickly, his heart hammering.
As he leaned against the wall, trying to process everything that had happened, a voice spoke directly into his mind."Welcome back, sir. I am Jazz, your personal AI assistant. You appear to be a new user in my operator's chair. How should I address you?"Marcus nearly jumped out of his borrowed skin. The new user is clearly confused and shall now be transported to the zone for a needed tutorial.""Transported to the—what?"His eyes blazed blue without conscious thought. Electricity coursed through his body, and the world dissolved into crackling energy.
Marcus found himself standing in an vast void space, empty except for geometric blue lines that formed patterns in the darkness. At the center sat a single chair, sleek and modern."What is this place?" His voice echoed strangely."This is the Zone," Jazz replied, the AI's voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. "A temporal space created through precise manipulation of particles and neurons using your plasma-based abilities. Here, anything is possible. Please, take a seat so we can begin your tutorial."
Marcus approached the chair slowly, mind reeling. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd been a dying man with three months to live. Now he was apparently some kind of superpowered student with an AI in his head and access to pocket dimensions. He sat down, the chair adjusting to support him perfectly."Now then," Jazz said, a hint of something that might have been amusement in the artificial voice. "Let's discuss your