"…the next subject."
The voice came before consciousness.
Dry.
Tired.
Distant.
Then came sensation.
Cold.
Weight.
Restraints.
He tried to move.
Nothing.
His body didn't respond.
Something held him down—tight, unyielding, locking his limbs in place.
His thoughts were sluggish, unfocused.
Where…?
A pressure built in his chest.
He needed to move.
Needed to be free.
Something shifted.
A faint, almost imperceptible disturbance in the air.
Then—snap.
The restraints unraveled.
Not shattered.
Not bent.
The reinforced steel, once bound by layers of enchantments, dimmed—its intricate runes flickering before collapsing inward, molten lines dissolving into nothing.
He froze.
His mind scrambled to catch up.
What just happened?
A feeling stirred.
Something else was moving.
Something connected to him.
His eyes flicked toward it—
Nothing.
Just empty air.
He squinted. Focused.
Then he saw them.
Threads.
Thin.
Nearly invisible.
Curling around his fingers, shifting and twisting, pulsing with something dark and weightless.
He stared, transfixed.
This was real.
He could feel it.
The threads weren't an illusion.
Not a trick of the light.
They belonged to him.
His heart pounded.
A whisper of instinct surfaced—
Do it again.
He obeyed.
Carefully, he twisted his fingers.
The threads moved.
Not chaotically. Not wildly.
But with unnatural precision, stretching outward like needles seeking the seams of reality.
His gaze followed them—
And then he saw it.
A robed man.
A researcher.
And on his sleeve…
A thin, black line.
A perfect incision.
The moment the thread had brushed against the fabric, it had unmade it at its weakest point.
The cloth peeled apart seamlessly.
Like a wound splitting open.
His mind spun.
What the hell is happening?
Before he could process further, the voice returned.
"Tear him apart and extract the core sample."
Tear.
Extract.
His body tensed.
Fight?
His eyes swept the room.
Several figures.
Tools.
Instruments.
He glanced down at himself—
Unknown limits.
Unfamiliar body.
Run?
Walls.
No clear exit.
No time.
A decision formed.
Slowly, he lowered his head.
His body stilled.
His expression blank.
A silent gesture of submission.
The air in the room shifted.
The lead scientist observed him before scoffing.
"You will serve us, then. A prototype."
The tension eased.
The threads curled slightly before fading from view.
He remained still. Silent.
For now.
———✗———
Beyond the chamber, in a separate containment facility, dozens of other test subjects lay in wait.
Some screamed.
Some were silent.
Some had already stopped breathing.
The next batch of experiments had already begun.
And the researchers, still hungry for more, had no intention of stopping with just one 'success'.