Kyoji stirred.
His eyelids twitched before slowly parting, only to be greeted by a blinding light.
"Agh…" he winced, his eyes stinging under the harsh glow, like the sun itself had taken offense at his return.
For a moment, he just lay there, blinking up at the ceiling—so white, so clean, so unnaturally pure.
"Am I… dead?" The question floated through his mind like a whisper.
He had expected darkness. Maybe silence. Maybe the weight of regret echoing forever in some cold, empty void. Not… this.
Not this bright.
Not this peaceful.
"No," he muttered to himself, his voice dry and cracked like brittle stone. "This can't be it. This place is too… white. Too calm. Too pure."
A bitter chuckle escaped his throat, sharp like gravel.
"There's no way this is my afterlife."
No… if he truly had an afterlife waiting for him, it wouldn't be white and spotless.
If there was a place beyond death for someone like him, it wouldn't smell like clean air and medicine. It wouldn't shine like peace or comfort. It would crawl. It would burn. It would rot. Not because he was evil—but because a person like him didn't deserve softness.
This? This was too kind. Too gentle.
A distant hum suddenly pulled him back to the present.
Soft beeping followed—steady, rhythmic, and strangely calming.
He slowly turned his head to the side—and froze.
Machines.
Sleek, silver-white devices blinked quietly beside him. Smooth panels of light flickered across transparent screens floating in mid-air. Thin tubes ran along his arms, glowing faintly with blue liquid that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
His body felt heavy, but not numb. Whatever these machines were, they were keeping him alive—and speeding up his recovery.
A soft voice rang from the floating screen above him.
> "Vital signs stable. Neural activity normalizing. Cellular repair: 73% complete."
--
He wasn't dead.
He was alive.
From the equipment surrounding him, Kyoji could tell that some of these machines were specifically used to monitor individuals at risk of Chaos Corruption.
That explained things.
He hadn't died after all. Somehow, he had survived—but in the process, he had come in contact with a large amount of mutant blood.
Which explained why this room had corruption monitors running.
Judging from the condition and scale of everything, it could only have been one thing—the blood of the Dominator Mutant.
But how?
The mutant had still been alive, though heavily injured, before Kyoji lost consciousness.
Had someone managed to kill it before it reached him? If so, then who?
Reinforcements?
Unlikely. If his memory of the past was still accurate, reinforcements wouldn't have arrived in time. By then, he should've already been dead.
Did something change?
Did events unfold differently than before?
Questions kept swirling in his mind, one after another, demanding answers. But Kyoji didn't have any answers yet. So he chose to push the thoughts aside for now and turned his attention to the room itself.
From how luxurious and clean the hospital room looked, he could tell this wasn't a normal ward.
This was a private VIP room.
That meant there was probably someone standing guard outside.
So, to get their attention, he decided to sit up.
Grabbing the iron railing at the side of the bed, Kyoji began pushing himself up—but a powerful surge of energy suddenly rushed through his hand as dark veins lit up beneath his skin.
Dark energy raced through his veins, surging from his palm in a wave of pressure.
The bed jerked violently with a metallic groan, tipping over and crashing to the floor with a loud bang—dragging Kyoji with it.
He slammed into the ground, his shoulder hitting the cold tiles hard. He let out a sharp grunt, stunned, his hand still tingling with leftover energy. The glowing veins slowly faded.
The crash was loud—too loud to ignore.
And sure enough, the door hissed open within seconds.
Three people rushed into the room.
First came a young nurse, her white uniform sharp and spotless. She moved fast, crouching down beside him, her face filled with worry.
Behind her, two men in black suits entered with purpose. Their eyes swept the room like predators. One of them reached toward his waist—clearly where a weapon was hidden beneath his coat—before stopping at the sight of Kyoji lying on the ground, tangled in IV tubes and scattered sheets.
"He's conscious!" the nurse said quickly, tapping her wristband. A glowing screen appeared above her palm as she ran diagnostics on him. "No spike in Chaos activity. Vitals are within tolerance. That burst was… irregular, but stable."
Kyoji slowly sat up, ignoring the dull ache in his back and the strange looks the two men behind her were giving him.
The nurse reached out to support him. "Careful. You're still recovering. Don't push your body too hard."
Kyoji didn't reply. He simply gave her a silent nod.
The nurse helped him back onto the now slightly tilted bed, then tapped a panel on the wall. The bed auto-adjusted, rising smoothly until it was upright again.
After scanning him once more, she gave a small smile. "You're alright. The fact that you can even move this soon… that's a miracle in itself. But don't push yourself too hard to avoid any complications."
Kyoji stared at her, his mind swirling with thoughts. He knew what happened wasn't just him overexerting himself. Something strange had happened.
A moment before the bed collapsed, he had felt a violent energy surge through him. A great power coursed through his veins, pushing his body and toppling the bed.
But he wasn't going to tell the nurse that.
So he nodded again, and the nurse smiled warmly before turning toward the two men behind her with a curt nod.
"He's all yours. Call me if anything changes," she said, walking toward them but pausing as she got closer.
"Don't push him too hard. He's still recovering, and there's no sign of corruption yet," she added in a whisper.
One of the men scoffed, his voice cold. The other responded sharply, "You don't tell us how to do our job. Just focus on yours."
The nurse, seemingly unfazed, said calmly, "He's an important guest of this hospital. I'm just looking out for him." She glanced back at Kyoji. "I'll delay informing his guardian about his recovery to give you time for questioning."
Then she left. The door slid shut with a soft hiss.
What they didn't know was that Kyoji, whose senses had sharpened greatly, heard every word of their whispered conversation. But he showed no reaction.
He had already guessed these two were from the Human Alliance, likely here to interrogate him about the beast horde. Still, he remained calm, not the least bit worried.
Now alone with the two agents, he met their eyes.
They looked at each other briefly, then back at him. Both were sharp-featured and dressed in sleek black suits that screamed "government"—or worse.
The taller one stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was calm but filled with authority.
"I'm Agent Rhys Veldan," he said clearly. "Investigator, Human Alliance Central Security Division."
He nodded toward the other man, who remained silent but gave a small nod.
"This is Agent Luro Makel, my partner. He handles special cases, especially those involving corruption events or… unusual anomalies."
Agent Rhys paused, his eyes fixed on Kyoji, waiting for a reaction. But Kyoji's expression didn't change. His face remained calm and unreadable.
Rhys sighed quietly.
'What kind of kid is this?' he thought, before continuing.
"According to our reports, you were injured during a fight with a Dominator Mutant. Is that correct?"
"No response," Kyoji said coldly, his voice emotionless.
"Huh?" Agent Rhys blinked in surprise.
"I said, no response to that. I won't answer any of your questions without my guardian present," Kyoji repeated, his tone calm and firm.
The two agents exchanged glances, clearly caught off guard.
"I'm sorry, Kyoji, but I don't think you understand the situation here—"
"I understand the situation perfectly," Kyoji interrupted. "Which is exactly why I need my guardian here before I speak."
He paused, then added, "Unless, of course, the Human Alliance is in the habit of interrogating sixteen-year-old boys without consent?"
His blue eyes stared coldly at them.
The agents exchanged glances again, clearly frustrated.
But they couldn't force him.
Kyoji calmly closed his eyes, ignoring them.
They stood there for a few more seconds, then finally turned and walked out.
As the door shut behind them, Agent Luro looked at his partner. "What are we going to do?"
Agent Rhys stayed silent for a moment, then replied, "Nothing. We wait for his guardian."
But even as he said the words, a chill ran down his spine.
He remembered the boy's guardian from two days ago—when they had requested to strap Kyoji to his hospital bed in case of mutation.
That old man's eyes were terrifying—cold and empty, like staring into death itself.
Rhys couldn't imagine questioning the kid with that man present.
But they had no choice.
He let out a deep sigh.
Everything about this case was a mess.
The Human Alliance had launched a full investigation after the beast horde's strange attack on the shelter.
And somehow, the weight of it had landed squarely on his and Luro's shoulders.
Everyone was demanding answers.
And right now… he had none.
His head throbbed. This whole thing was pure chaos.