They told me I was chosen. They lied."  

When Ren, a cynical high school dropout, dies in a suspicious "accident," he awakens in a nightmare laboratory—his right arm replaced by a living weapon that hungers for human souls. Branded as Subject 117 by the Ethéreals (a secretive cult masquerading as scientists), he’s forced to compete in a twisted experiment where:  

- The Rules Are Lies: The lab shifts into surreal hellscapes—a celestial circus with audience members made of mannequins, a banquet hall serving still-beating hearts—each revealing fragments of the Ethéreals' true goal.  
- His Only Ally is Hiding Something: Lumina, the cross-eyed priestess who rescued him, wears the same insignia as his torturers. When she’s fatally wounded, her body mutates into something no longer human—and she enjoys it.  
- The Ultimate Enemy is Family: Vaelis, Ren’s older brother, oversees the experiments with a smile. His living sword whispers secrets: "You were never the favorite, little brother. Just the most... edible."  

Now, Ren must decide: 
1) Surrender to the arm’s hunger, devouring allies to ascend as a "god."  
2) Burn the experiment down, even if it means becoming Subject 118’s cautionary tale.

The taste of iron. A white light burning through my eyelids. 


I jerked awake as metal restraints bit into my wrists. 


"Ah, the subject regains consciousness." 


A woman's voice—too calm, too sterile for this shitty world. I opened my eyes to a hexagonal room, walls covered in cuneiform tablets that bled black ink. 


Immaculate lab coat. Silver hair cropped sharply at the jaw. Latex gloves smeared with my crimson substance. 


"I am Dr. Elyria." She smiled, revealing teeth too white. "Welcome to your new home, Subject Ren." 


My demonic arm growled against the examination table. 


Elyria tapped a holographic screen. Images flickered: 


- Me, sprawled on the sidewalk after the "accident" 


- A mist-gloved hand reaching from the wreckage 


- The Ethereals' insignia engraved on the bumper 


"Your death was no accident." She traced the Roman numerals now etched on my bare chest—CXVII. "You're the 117th vessel of the Seal. The previous 116... reacted poorly." 


Suddenly, my arm spoke. Not in my mind. Actually spoke, its voice shaking surgical tools: 


"They screamed until their souls tore apart. 


The door burst open. Lumina strode in, her priestess garb replaced by a black jumpsuit bearing the same insignia as Elyria. 


"Elapsed time: 12 minutes." She tossed Elyria a clipboard. "Subject consumed 3% of the guardian's soul. Growth aligns with projections." 


Her cross-shaped pupils glinted. "Ren, this is far more complex than—" 


The restraints dissolved into black smoke. The wall tablets shrieked as they crumbled. 


The last thing I saw before everything turned red: 


When the rage cleared, I knelt in a slurry of organs. 


My arm had tripled in size, now studded with blinking eyes that pulsed with my panic. 


"Sigma-level contamination. Initiate Fenrir Protocol." 


Then, behind me, a voice I recognized: 


"Well, little brother... You've finally become interesting." 


Vaelis stood in the doorway, his living sword licking eagerly at the blood pooling beneath him.


Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: "117th Experiment"