"You still came after all," Selina said without turning around, studying the readings on one of the medical bay monitors. "Did you use your brain for even a second last night, Tom? Or has your hunger for power completely killed off your survival instincts?"
"I spent three hours analyzing everything," I replied calmly as I walked deeper into the room. "I weighed the pros and cons. The risks fall within an acceptable margin of error. My body already processed a synthetic toxin that the CIA pharmaceutical division has no antidote for. Compared to that, we're only dealing with stimulant side effects here."
Selina spun around sharply. Her face was pale, and dark circles sat beneath her eyes. Apparently, she had not slept either.
"That poison attacked your internal organs at the cellular level, Tom!" Her voice cracked with unusually sharp emotion. "Your regeneration handled it locally. This time your body’s gonna swell from the inside like a goddamn balloon. Do you have any idea what kind of pressure that’s gonna put on your blood vessels?"
I looked around the bay. Selina had prepared thoroughly. New artificial life support units lined the perimeter, their displays glowing green, ready to register the slightest malfunction in my system.
"I’ve got complete faith in your ability to keep my body in one piece." My gaze stopped at the center of the room. "And what the hell’s that?"
A massive steel structure towered in the middle of the bay. It was nothing like the cushioned medical cot I had recovered on during quarantine. This was a heavy surgical table with thick chains welded directly to the frame. Not leather restraints, but massive cast-metal links made from dark alloy. Equipment designed to restrain a large predator.
Selina followed my gaze, and her shoulders relaxed slightly. The panic faded, replaced by her usual cynicism.
"Since you’ve already made up your mind, let’s not waste time. We’ll talk during the procedure." She nodded toward a plastic table in the corner where several liter-sized containers filled with cloudy liquid were waiting. "Drink. All of it."
"I ate in the cafeteria a couple hours ago. My stomach’s already full."
"Tom, I’m not about to inject you with a simple dose of adrenaline. This is an aggressive, extra-class synthetic growth hormone." Selina stepped closer, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your stats won’t rise because of some temporary burst of strength. We’re about to trigger accelerated, abnormal muscle fiber growth. Matter doesn’t come from nowhere. Remember the law of conservation of mass from school? Your body’s gonna need an absurd amount of raw material right now. Those containers are filled with concentrated hydrolysate, amino acids, and a full vitamin complex. So start forcing that crap down until your stomach starts fighting back."
I sat at the table, opened the first container, and started drinking. The substance was thick, with an overpowering artificial strawberry smell. Standard protein sludge I used to drink by the liter back when I was into fitness, except this version was several times denser.
"Tense your left arm," Selina said as she approached from behind, rolling an IV stand beside her. "And don’t move. You can still hold the cup with your right hand."
I silently clenched my fist and exposed the inside of my elbow. The skin tightened, the vein standing out clearly beneath it. Selina drove the needle in with precise efficiency. An unpleasant cold spread through the vein.
"What’s in that?" I asked, looking at the transparent IV bag feeding liquid through the tube.
"Electrolyte solution and high-molecular buffer compounds," she answered with focused concentration while taping the needle to my skin. "So your blood doesn’t turn into dried glue during the first few minutes."
"More nutrition?" I nodded toward the half-empty container of strawberry concentrate. "The stuff I’m drinking isn’t enough?"
"Tom, I’m seriously afraid even this won’t be enough." The tone in her voice was genuinely unsettling.
"Then give me the full estimate. What exactly should I prepare for? Those chains on the table don’t exactly inspire confidence."
"Basic safety precautions. This steroid was designed to massively increase neural transmission speed. It hits the brain’s limbic system directly. The side effect is episodes of absolute, uncontrollable aggression. Pure animal rage. During the peak of the injection you’ll turn into a psychopath, so you’ll be spending those hours in titanium restraints."
I examined the thickness of the chains, mentally calculating the stress vectors against my current physical parameters.
"And those won’t cut me apart?" I pointed out reasonably. "If my body mass starts expanding rapidly, metal isn’t gonna stretch like rubber. Those restraints’ll just drive straight into the bone."
"Tom, who exactly do you think you’re talking to?" Selina adjusted her glasses arrogantly, though I caught a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes at my attention to detail. "I already accounted for that. The chains’ll restrain you with built-in slack. You’ll have about ten inches of movement for your chest and limbs. You won’t tear your tendons against the restraints, but you won’t be getting off that table either."
"Don’t forget, I’ve got [Special Command]. I can suppress emotions. Kill the aggression before it starts."
"I know. That’s already part of my calculations." She prepared a massive syringe. "But my life’s on the line here. I prefer a triple-layer safety system. If your mental ability fails because of overload, I’ll be trapped inside this sealed bay alone with a three-hundred-pound mountain of enraged muscle. Who knows what kind of subconscious impulses are lurking in your head once civilized restraint shuts down."
I stayed silent, swallowing another heavy mouthful of strawberry sludge. My stomach already felt packed with a dense acidic lump, nausea crawling up my throat. Not so much because of the volume, but because of her loaded implications. If anyone here had reason to fear hidden motives, it was me.
"Here’s my professional recommendation, Tom. Activate [Special Command] and completely disable your pain receptors before I inject Omega. The growth hormone’ll force your tissues to expand so quickly that your bones’ll start cracking. Your muscles’ll tear through your skin. Without full anesthesia, you’ll go into shock and suffer cardiac arrest within the first minute."
"Sounds painful."
"That’s only the tip of the iceberg." Selina stepped closer. "Your blood’ll become so thick with red blood cells that your heart won’t be able to pump it. The capillaries in your eyes’ll rupture first. The last thing you’ll see before you go blind’ll be a solid crimson haze. So tell me, do you still wanna continue?"
It was a completely reasonable question. If an ordinary person were in my place, the smartest decision would have been to walk out of this bay and forget the experiment entirely. But my body had already proven capable of adapting to lethal doses. Besides, I still had one trump card left: sleep mode, the ability that multiplied my regeneration speed several times over.
I looked directly at Selina. "What’s the average time until death after the injection?"
"There aren’t any precise timelines. Before you, there were only five test subjects. The sample size’s too small to establish an accurate curve. Besides, their baseline physical metrics were all different." She paused briefly. "All five medical files were closed with the same final status: Fatal."
"How long’d the best one last?"
"One minute and forty-six seconds. After that, his internal organs started rupturing from hydrostatic pressure."
"In my case, you can safely double that number." I was not bragging. It was simple calculation. "My endurance’s higher than any human's. My tissues’re tougher, my blood vessels’re more elastic. My baseline capacity’s already above theirs."
"Don’t get cocky too early." She rolled her eyes skeptically. "Your job isn’t just to set some survival record while convulsing on a table. You need to hold out until the muscle fibers reach peak hypertrophy, and then you’ve gotta purge the toxins during that microscopic time window. Do it one second too early, and the experiment’s worthless. Do it too late, and you’ll turn into a slab of fresh meat with a ruptured heart."
"So how’m I supposed to catch that peak? Should I rely on the system notifications from the interface?"
Selina froze for a moment, lips pressed tightly together. It was obvious the idea of using my system's mechanics as a direct monitoring tool had never occurred to her.
"That’s one option," she admitted reluctantly. "But just in case, I’ll hook you up to a liver function analyzer too. The second the metabolic markers plateau and stop climbing, I’ll give you the signal."
At that moment, my stomach finally revolted. A deep, ugly sound burst out of my throat as trapped air forced its way up from my esophagus. I felt so awful that basic manners around a lady stopped mattering.
"That’s it. I can’t force down another drop." With visible effort, I pushed the empty plastic cup away.
Selina glanced at the container. Slightly less than half of the thick strawberry sludge still remained inside. Without saying a word, she poured another serving and held it out to me.
"One more, Tom. Two’d be even better."
"I’m gonna puke all over your equipment."
"Do it or die." Her voice hardened into steel. "If there’s not enough raw material for growth, the activated stimulant’ll force your body to cannibalize itself. Your stomach’ll start digesting its own lining to extract protein for muscle growth. Drink."
That was a convincing argument. I had no intention of risking internal bleeding because my taste buds were throwing a tantrum, so I decided to use it.
[Special Command: drink everything inside the container. Hyperfocus mode activated.]
The world instantly lost its color, narrowing down to a single objective. Inside hyperfocus, the nauseating chemical strawberry smell ceased to exist, and the gag reflex disappeared entirely. My throat worked like a piston, mechanically and emotionlessly forcing the dense sludge down my esophagus. When the mode shut off, reality slammed all the sensations back into me at once. My stomach had stretched to its absolute limit, creating brutal pressure against my diaphragm. It felt like one sudden movement would send the entire mixture blasting out through my nose and ears.
"Now that’s what I’m talking about!" Selina practically purred with satisfaction as she examined the empty container. "Excellent work, Tom. See? You can do it when you want to."
"Let’s get this over with," I forced out through clenched teeth, trying not to move my neck any more than necessary. "Before all this comes back up."
I lay down on the surgical table. My back touched the cold steel, bringing brief relief and dulling the nausea slightly.
Selina moved quickly and professionally. She removed the IV, locked heavy titanium restraints around my wrists and ankles, and attached monitoring sensors across my chest and temples. I used those quiet seconds for my final preparation.
[Special Command: disable emotions and block all pain for twenty-four hours.]
My mind cleared instantly. Fear, doubt, the discomfort from my overloaded stomach, all of it vanished behind a dense gray wall. I became a biological machine whose sole purpose was forcing a defective mechanism through catastrophic overload.
Selina raised the syringe. Inside was a thick, swamp-colored substance. Omega stimulant. Even visually, it looked like concentrated poison.
She slid the needle into my vein and slowly forced down the plunger.
No pain. No panic. Only the dry physical sensation of liquid lead flooding through my bloodstream at terrifying speed.
Then my body convulsed violently against my will. Muscles began to swell as the fibers stretched tighter and tighter. I stared at the ceiling and watched my own shadow rapidly expand across the wall, losing all human proportions.
[Strength +1]
[Endurance +1]
[Agility +1]
The interface displayed the first logs. The process had started, and for the moment the balance still favored me.
Suddenly, the surrounding sounds began fading fast. The harsh grinding of titanium chains and the relentless beeping of the heart monitors turned into distant humming before disappearing completely. Another side effect. Either my auditory nerves or my eardrums had failed under the pressure. There was no panic. Only acknowledgment of damage.
[Strength +1]
[Endurance +1]
[Agility +1]
I glanced down at my forearms. My skin could not withstand the muscle mass surging beneath it. It split open with wet cracking sounds, tearing into deep fissures that exposed raw crimson tissue underneath. The scars would definitely remain, but that could be dealt with later.
[Strength +1]
[Endurance +1]
[Agility +1]
I tried to swallow, but my lower jaw refused to move. Judging by the crunching sensation inside the joint, the bone had either shifted or cracked under the force of my spasming jaw muscles. My facial structure was temporarily out of commission.
[Strength +1]
[Endurance +1]
[Agility +1]
[Your Familiar is growing]
[Trainer Level Increased]
[Special Command +1]
[Tactical Mode +1]
[Enemy Analysis now provides more information]
[You may acquire a new Familiar]
The investment had paid off. The line about a new Familiar was especially intriguing. I wanted to analyze the updated options in greater detail, but my vision failed at that exact moment. My eyeballs felt as though they had filled with molten lead. Blood vessels ruptured simultaneously, and the entire world drowned beneath an impenetrable crimson veil.
Deaf. Mute. Blind.
My connection to reality narrowed down to pure tactile sensation. The chain restraints were biting brutally into my enlarged wrists. The ten inches of slack had already been completely exhausted.
Then suddenly I felt Selina slam both palms against my shoulder. She was shaking me violently, transmitting unmistakable urgency through the contact alone. It did not take a genius to understand. The liver monitors had plateaued. The moment had come.
[Special Command: purge all toxic compounds from the body. Activate healing sleep mode until full recovery. Divert all internal reserves and S-Power toward regeneration.]
The last thing I registered before my consciousness collapsed into merciful blackness was the sensation of every pore in my body opening at once. My skin instantly became coated in icy, sticky sweat that reeked of chemicals.
The toxins were leaving my body.