Thud!
'Ah! Shit!'
The nightmare ejected Will from his bed. Well, for some weeks now, waking up to a nightmare had become his consistent morning routine…and so was hitting the floor, sometimes. Ever since the Mark had appeared on his body, his life had spiralled into a relentless cycle of chaos and madness…. not that his existence had ever been particularly serene, but this was a new kind of hell for him.
Slowly, he hauled himself upright, remaining seated on the cold floor. His right hand reached for his temples, pressing against it in a desperate attempt to dull the constant throbbing pain. The terrible headache was still there even after three days, like an unwanted companion. He let out a rough groan and forced his eyes open.
'What the-', he looked around, completely confused.
A sudden realisation pierced him through the fog of confusion, striking him with a cold reality. The silence of the air and the familiar silhouettes of the furniture finally clicked into place.
'Oh right…'
He had been living in this room for the past three days.
The room he found himself in was draped in heavy dark, devoid of any light. It was decently spacious, designed to allow a person to live in comfort, given that they wouldn't be suffering from terrible symptoms in the first place. It was a courtesy provided to him by the government once staying in his own home became unbearable. His chamber was situated deep beneath a small complex adjacent to a hospital, a special ward specifically engineered to contain people like him who carried the Mark.
Directly ahead of him, a heavy reinforced metal door stood as a silent knight, meant to protect the outside world from the 'human' inside the room if things went south, its cold industrial surface was etched with strange, intricate patterns. Beneath him, the cold surface of the stone floor served as an anchor, its biting chill seeping into his skin and refusing to let him slip back into his slumber.
After a few seconds of sitting in silence, he gritted his teeth, and forced his frail, trembling arms to plant on the floor, preparing to haul himself up. As he pushed himself up, the Mark on his right arm began to itch, followed almost immediately by a slow burning sensation. Being used to it by now, he paid it no attention. As he stood in the room, completely merged in darkness, his gaze fell onto his bed that he had just abandoned.
It was a low-profile frame, bolted to the floor and outfitted with a decently soft mattress. Despite his current misery, his bed at least was of a fairly nice quality-certainly a step up from what he was used to. The corners of his mouth twitched as he smirked, a self-depreciating thought surfaced in his mind.
'What an irony.'
What an irony indeed. For the first time in his life, he was sleeping on something that didn't feel like cardboard or something made out of it, instead he was sleeping on a nicely built bed with warm and soft mattresses, even though he was in too much agony to enjoy any of it.
He changed his course of gaze, now falling onto the simple wooden table beside the bed. The table held a dormant lamp, a small digital clock and a ceramic plate, still littered with crumbs of dinner. He glanced at the clock and let out a sigh. It was almost dawn. With having nothing to do now, he lingered for a while and sat on the cold floor instead of the bed, in order to not fall unconscious again. The searing heat radiating from his hand and the biting chill of the cold stone beneath him formed a strange, surreal contrast. He sat motionlessly and stared at the metal door right across the room with tired, heavy eyes.
After a while, a low groan escaped his lips. His gaze snapped down to his right hand, where the slow burning sensation was slowly but steadily intensifying. As he watched, the expression on his gaunt face shifted, revealing the fact that he was in confusion. Was he merely imagining it, or did the Mark on his hand start to glow in a faint crimson hue? The glow was very dim, so much so that Will had to strain his eyes to notice it. As soon as he did notice it, however, his face went grim and paler than it ever had been before. But the shock fleeted really quick though; just a moment later, his expressions settled, returning to its usual indifference.
He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh that echoed in the dark room.
He mumbled to himself in a very low voice, "So, today is the day huh? Tsk."
The day he had both anticipated and deeply feared had finally arrived. He exhaled a long breath, his facial expressions blank and closed his eyes once again to drift back into his thoughts.
All sorts of past events flashed through his mind. The stray dog he used to feed, an old beggar who was once kind to him, the thugs at the slums who used to beat him up for money, his late parents ....
He chuckled and murmured to himself, "Well, what does it matter now?"
Really, it didn't matter anymore as he was about to lose his life anyways.
After this thought, he just sat there in the motionless darkness and heavy silence, his mind going blank from the lack of thought. Why bother thinking anyways? It wasn't like he was going to survive.
Instead of contemplating on his life choices and other trivial stuff, he tried to placate his mind. He didn't move, didn't shift, just focused on the burning pain radiating from his right arm, waiting for the inevitable.
After a few hours, the thick silence of the room was broken by the sharp, metallic sound of several heavy bolts sliding back into the door.
Clank!
The door swung open, and two familiar figures stepped into the darkness of the room.
The man in the front appeared to be in his mid-thirties, clearly still in his prime. His thick brown hair was beginning to grey at the sides. A short light brown beard covered half of his face. His eyes were of a striking amber colour, holding a gaze that was calm and rational. Though his features were not overly exceptional, his facial harmony gave him a handsome and masculine edge. The man carried himself with a calm, collected intensity, radiating an aura that seemed extremely domineering. He wore a long white coat, over a reinforced suit that was designed to protect him from the countless harrowing dangers of this world.
This was the man from the medical team who was in charge of him and other Marked of this ward. He certainly looked more like a warrior than a doctor, but that was to be expected; after all, almost every human who had walked the path of Ascension was, by default, a capable combatant.
He was followed closely by another man. This one a lot younger, likely to be in his early-twenties, a clear contrast to his senior. His presence was almost negligible in front of the doctor. He had short, black hair and soft, brown eyes that completely lacked that sharp gaze. His skin was really pale, almost like a corpse. He wore a pair of glasses that rested on his face which was devoid of any battle-worn edge. It was clear that he was just a normal human, probably an assistant.
As they entered the chamber, their footsteps echoing in the heavy silence, Will slowly lifted his head, locking eyes with the domineering doctor. He felt a bit of unease under that intense, battle-hardened gaze. The man stopped just three steps away from him and spoke, his voice cutting through the silence like a sharp blade:
"How are you feeling?"
Will shuddered, then let out a shaky breath and replied, "Worse than yesterday."
Before the doctor could respond, Will slowly lifted his frail, malnourished right arm. He turned his palm, exposing the back of his hand to the man, where the Mark resided, now glowing in a dim crimson hue.
The doctor glanced at the arm, and froze, a hint of shock and concern appearing on his face, surfacing through its usual calmness. The room was once again swallowed by a heavy silence for a few moments. Finally, the doctor turned to Will, his voice now even deeper, cold, without a hint of emotion escaping from it:
"So, it is time. Stand, and follow us."
Will listened to the command, lingered for a bit, then obliged. He hauled himself up from the cold stone floor, his face set in a grim, hollow mask. He stared into the doctor's eyes again, then simply nodded. The assistant was looking at Will with a strange expression on his face. When Will glanced back, the assistant refused to meet his gaze and instead looked at the floor. It seemed as though he felt pity towards Will's condition.
With a stiff nod, the doctor turned on his heels, and Will simply followed behind.
As they crossed the threshold, the oppressive silence of the chamber was replaced by a low, industrial noise of the facility. The hallway was covered by thick sheets of reinforced metal, with similar strange patterns etched into their surface. It was lit by long overhead strips of lights. The facility felt less like a hospital ward and more like a high-end bunker.
Every few meters, heavy blast doors stood recessed into the walls, with patterns similar to Will's room etched onto its surface. The air out here in the hall was thin, carrying with itself a faint metallic smell. The grey hall stretched really far, making Will feel like he was being led deeper into the gut of a giant beast.
After a few more minutes of walking through the gloomy hallway, they came to a halt in front of a massive, reinforced, bulky piece of metal door. It was about 10 meters tall and the patterns engraved on it were especially different from the rest, so complex, dense and intricate that it made the others look like a child's play.
The doctor simply stood in front of the gigantic door and a few moments later, a small source of green light shone through a concealed hole on the surface of the door. The face-recognition system scanned through the doctor's features. An affirmative chime echoed through the hallway, followed by a synthesized voice that seemed to come out from the door itself.
"Doctor Stark, state your purpose."
The doctor, who was introduced as Stark just now, took a quick glance at Will. "We have a Code Black." he said, his voice as calm as ever.
The system fell silent for a bit; it seemed to calculate the clearance level, then spoke:
"Which patient?"
"Patient No. 2-1059." Stark replied.
Once again, the system fell silent, then with a pressurized hiss, the heavy locking mechanism disengaged, and the sound of huge bolts sliding thundered through the gloomy hallway. The huge door opened, and Dr Stark stepped through the threshold, followed by his assistant.
Will closed his eyes, and sighed. 'Well, here we go.'
As Will stepped through the massive doorway, his body still suffering from fatigue and severe headache, the layout of the facility inside came into his view. The huge room was filled with several small observation chambers, each spaced a few meters apart. Unlike the heavy metal 'cells' he'd seen before, these ones were made out of thick glass, clearly made for constant monitoring. Inside each one sat a single chair surrounded by complex and heavy machinery.
He noticed a person or two already seated in some of the units, with Ascended doctors moving inside them, their expressions grim and full of resolve. He also noticed some doctors and assistants moving chaotically outside those units; some looking at those machinery, some preparing different kinds of tools. Some of them were Ascended while some were just normal humans.
At the end of the hall, stood a separate chamber that looked far more secure. It wasn't made out of glass; instead, it was encased in heavy metallic plates that he'd seen before and guarded by two Ascended knights.
Will frowned. There was no need for two Ascended knights to be here, in this hospital complex. Each of the doctors were a capable fighter of their own and so any threat that could arise would've been instantly neutralised by them with ease. And yet two knights had to guard that door, hinting that whatever happened inside that room, was far more dangerous than the rest.
…and that was exactly where Stark was leading him.
Will smirked, 'Aren't I a celebrity now?'. Well, celebrity or not, whatever that was going to happen to him now, was not going to be very pleasant.
Soon, they reached that heavily guarded chamber. Doctor Stark turned around and looked at Will, his expressions still filled with utter calmness and his gaze still commanding and unyielding. Then he spoke:
"Patient No. 2-1059, Willow Grey, you are about to start your First Trial. Are you ready?"
Will glanced back at the officer, his gaunt face was still empty, and replied:
"I am."