Soren spent the next three days in same and dull routine.
Classes. Cafeteria. Library. and little patches of sleep.
Jake asked him twice if he was sure. His response was same both times but second yes felt hollow.
Day two, he passed Zara in the academic wing. A silver badge shining near her collar.
"They put it in yesterday," she said.
"How's it feel?"
"Like my chest hums." She tilted her head. "You can still switch , you know?"
"I know."
"But you won't."
"No."
She walked away without another word.
Day three, he saw Lyra through the gym's glass wall. She moved through combat drills like shadow . Every strike flowed into the next before it even landed.
She caught him watching. She Smiled and waved at him from inside.
He shook his head and spoke without making any sound. "tomorrow."
She whispered back, "Don't die."
That night, Jake sat on his bed with a bandages around his ribs.
"It hurts," Jake said. "The second heart. Not bad but Just… this feeling…..there's something extra that shouldn't be."
"Regret it?"
"No." Jake looked at him. "You?"
"Ask me after ."
The alarm went off at 05:00 AM.
He dressed in the gray clothes they'd sent. Soft fabric. No shoes.
Jake was already awake.
"You look like shit," Jake said. As he tried to lift the mood.
"Thanks."
Jake crossed the room ,still weak and gripped Soren's shoulder hard. "Come back weird. Don't come back broken."
"I'll try."
"You have to."
Soren left everything behind except his ID.
The campus was dark and empty. Maintenance drones buzzed overhead. The Biological Integration Lab sat at the edge like a torture chamber. Soren thought has it always looked like this or just for today the environment around it changed.
He stopped at the entrance.
His hands were shaking. He closed his eyes and took some long breath. When he felt his hands are now little bit steady.
He pushed open the doors.
Inside it was filled to brim with some kind of medical chemical smell, hard to explain. White walls. Whiter floors. Too much light everywhere.
A woman in gray looked up from her terminal.
"Cross?"
"Yeah."
"Chamber Seven. Down the hall, third door right."
He already knew where to go, but he didn't bother to stop the lady as the lady stopped after giving full directions. He started moving.
His footsteps echoed too loud in empty corridors.
Chamber Seven's door was already open.
Dr. Voss stood with her back to him, arranging instruments on a tray and checking some devices.
He greeted her with some hesitation. In fear of disturbing something important.
"Hello Dr.Voss."
"Close the door," she said.
He did.
"Shoes off. Jacket on the hook. Sit."
He sat. The chair molded to him with a soft hiss.
Voss turned. Her pale green eyes were sharp.
"You read the prep packet."
"Three times."
"Good." She pulled a stool over. "This is experimental. Tiger beetle DNA's never worked. Most attempts failed in the first hour. The ones that lasted… the subjects didn't stay sane."
"I know."
"Knowing and experiencing aren't the same." Her tone was very serious like a warning.
"I still want it."
She studied him. "Why?"
"Because nobody else will."
"That's not a reason to risk your life."
He met her eyes. "I died in my last life trying to save beetles. If I'm going to die again, I want it to mean something."
Voss blinked. Slow.
"Previous life."
"Yeah."
"You remember it."
"All of it."
She tapped her fingers on her knee. "Reincarnation isn't supported by science."
"Neither was mana two hundred years ago."
Her mouth almost smiled.
"You still have the guts to make jokes at the situation like this, you mental strength is praiseworthy'"
"Fine then ." She stood. "Lie back. Baseline neural scans first. If your brain shows instability, we stop before we even open the vial."
He lay back. Restraints clicked over his wrists and ankles. Making his unable to move even a little.
"Are those really necessary?"He asked.
"Your muscles will spasm. You'll break your own bones without them." She moved behind the console. "The restraints are specially made for enhanced strength."
A mechanical arm descended. A blue scanner swept his skull. And a holographic image to his brain appeared in front of the console.
"Neural activity nominal," Voss said. "Stress hormones elevated but acceptable. Heart rate steady."
"That mean I pass?"
"No." She responded quickly.
"It means you're not panicking yet." She tapped something. The scanner retracted. "Phase one introduces the DNA. It'll hurt. Phase two monitors neural integration. That'll hurt worse. Phase three… we'll improvise."
"Comforting."
"I don't do comfort. I do results." She picked up a syringe. Green liquid glowed inside it. "Last chance. I can still call this off."
Soren looked at the green liquid.
Radiant like a beetle's shell in sunlight.
"Do it."
Voss nodded as she proceeded.
The needle bit his neck.
Fire poured into his veins.
His throat locked. Every nerve lit up. His vision split—human sight overlapping with something else,
In burst there was some movement in frames,
"Neural activity spiking," Voss said. Her voice sounded distant. "DNA integration at twelve percent. Fifteen."
The world slowed.
Or he sped up.
He couldn't tell which.
"Twenty percent," Voss said. "Subject vitals—wait."
The pain changed.
Not fading. Twisting.
His brain felt like it was tearing in half. One side human. One side something else. Something that didn't fit, didn't belong there, and was not his.
"Neural patterns fragmenting," Voss said. Her voice went sharp. "Integration at twenty-two percent but cerebral activity is collapsing. Cross, can you hear me? Cross."
He couldn't answer.
His body convulsed. The restraints bit deep. He roared in pain, blood started flowing out from his ears.
"Neural collapse imminent," Voss said. "Aborting procedure. Administering counter-agent."
Something cold hit his bloodstream.
It didn't help.
His vision went white. Then black. Then something in between that had no name.
He was dying.
Again.
The old forgotten memories started emerging in front of him. Fire and beetles and a tank too hot to touch.
I'm sorry, please forgive me, he thought. I tried.
And then something answered.
Not from outside.
From inside.
From a place deeper within him.
[Critical rejection detected.]
[Host consciousness failing.]
[Emergency intervention authorized.]
[Beetle God System: Initializing.]
A presence flooded his mind. Warm. Ancient. Familiar.
[Stabilizing neural pathways.]
[Implementing consciousness layering protocol.]
[Primary layer: Human consciousness maintained.]
[Secondary layer: Arthropod processing created.]
[Integration method: Symbiotic, not replacement.]
The tearing stopped.
The fire cooled.
His brain stopped trying to choose between human and beetle and learned to be both.
"What the—" Voss's voice cracked. "Neural patterns stabilizing. Integration resuming. This doesn't make sense."
Soren sucked in air. It tasted like life again.
"Twenty-five percent," Voss said. "How is he— Twenty-eight. Thirty."
The pain was still there. But it had shape now. Direction. It flowed instead of exploding.
"Subject vitals normalizing," Voss said. "Neural architecture restructuring in real-time. I've never seen anything like this."
[Integration successful.]
[Tiger beetle DNA: 10% merged.]
[Beetle God System: Active.]
[Welcome, host. You've been recognized.]
"Ten percent integration achieved," Voss said. She leaned over him, eyes wide. "Stable. He's stable."
Soren opened his eyes.
The room moved slow. Or he moved fast. Time felt stretched like taffy.
"Cross?" Voss's face was sharp with shock. "Can you hear me?"
"Yeah."
His voice sounded strange. Too slow.
"How do you feel?"
"Fast."
Everything was so slow.
"Different," he said.
Voss started unhooking monitors. Her hands shook slightly. "You should be dead. Tiger beetle DNA's rejected every host at the twenty percent mark. You were collapsing. And then…" She shook her head. "Your brain did something. Rewired itself mid-integration."
She didn't know about the system.
"Your neural processing increased by roughly fifty percent," she said. "Your reaction time dropped to fifteen milliseconds. That's… exceptional for ten percent integration."
The restraints clicked open. He sat up.
The world moved like honey. Like everything is underwater, moving slowly.
As only he was moving normally.
"We'll monitor you for seventy-two hours," Voss said. She handed him a wristband. "Wearable monitor. Don't take it off. It tracks vitals and neural activity."
He clipped it on.
"Rest today," she said. "Tomorrow we test your capabilities."
He stood.
"Dr. Voss?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
Her expression softened. Barely. "Don't thank me yet. We don't know if you'll survive the week."
He walked out into the hallway.
Students moved in slow arcs. A door closed with sound that stretched.
He passed near a window.
Outside, a bird flew past.
He counted its wingbeats.
Seven.
In his mind, the voice waited. Patient.
[Would you like to view your status?]
Not yet.
He stepped into morning light and felt the world crawl around him.
The chamber door sealed behind him.
Inside him, something had woken up.
Something that had saved his life.
And everything was about to change.