Aden's mind wasn't his own.
Memories—not his memories—poured in. He saw battles waged in shadows, warriors clad in masks cutting down cultists like vermin.
He felt their pain. Their triumphs.
Their deaths.
Each one had walked this path. Each had bled for the System. And now, it wanted his blood too.
> "You will not resist."
The Overseer's voice thundered in his skull, merging with the mask's whispers. Aden's knees buckled as the sigil beneath him drank deep.
His body burned. His veins felt like fire.
It was taking him.
---
Something inside him fought back.
Not the mask. Not the System.
Him.
Aden clenched his fists. He wasn't just a vessel. He wasn't just another pawn.
The mask had given him power—but it wasn't his master.
> "You were always meant to be here."
> No.
He forced his fingers to move, his arms to lift. The mask tightened, as if sensing his rebellion. His lungs burned. His vision blurred.
But then—he saw it.
The body of the fallen warrior. The warning etched into the wall.
They had been taken. Controlled. Bound.
But they had also fought back.
And now, so would he.
---
The sigil's glow intensified. The air crackled.
The Overseer stepped forward, robes billowing.
> "The last warrior fought… and failed."
> "So will you."
Aden gritted his teeth.
The mask's power still coursed through him. Still tried to chain him.
But power was power.
And if it wanted his blood—
Then he would make it his own.
Aden twisted the flow.
The sigil beneath him shattered.
The Overseer's eyes widened.
> "Impossible"
Aden's fist lashed out. The ground exploded. A wave of raw energy ripped through the chamber, hurling cultists like ragdolls.
For the first time, the Overseer staggered.
Aden stood tall, his breath ragged. The mask still clung to his face, but now—
> Now it listens to me.
He looked up, eyes burning with new power.
The hunt had truly begun.
---