Days passed peacefully, both inside and outside the sprawling domain of TKA.
TKA wasn't just an organization—it was the living, breathing heart of the Supreme Timeline. The force that held the multiverse in balance, the vigilant eye that watched every flicker of motion across timelines. It had roots on every continent, tendrils reaching into every corner of the planet. No crime, whether as petty as theft or as catastrophic as planetary destruction, could escape its notice.
But TKA wasn't just built from steel and concrete. It wasn't defined by its state-of-the-art buildings or its high-tech machinery. No—it was built by its people. People who weren't just strong, but transcendent. Beyond what one would dare call "powerful."
Inside one of its massive laboratories, hovering mid-air at the very center, a small glass-like chamber floated with quiet gravity. Suspended within was a strange mass of flesh—small, black, pulsing faintly like a distant heartbeat in the dark.
Around it, scientists moved with an unhurried rhythm, footsteps echoing softly across the gleaming floor. They were protected by layers of security—dozens of guards, and more technology than one could fathom. Portals shimmered open and shut like blinking stars, transporting personnel with seamless ease from one end of the building to another.
"Well, it seems to be growing quite well," remarked a woman in a crisp white coat, lab glasses perched on her nose. Her name was Dami Nicole, and in her slender hand she held the most recent biometric report of the thing floating in the chamber.
Beside her, a man set down a tray of tools, wiped his hands, and stepped closer. "What does the report say? Is it... stable?" he asked—Jeff, Dami's assistant.
"Stable?" Dami echoed with an arched brow, voice laced with dry amusement. "Do you see how fast it's evolving? Do you think it cares about being stable?" She gave him a sly wink and walked back toward her desk.
Jeff glanced again at the ominous black mass, torn between fascination and dread. "Do you think the president was right? That it's going to be the greatest Anomaly we've ever seen?"
"Who knows?" Dami mused, her voice dipping with curiosity. "After all... it's a human who fell into a tank of unknown liquid, melted down to the bone, and now it's... regrowing itself."
She grinned. "Every time I say it out loud, it gets crazier."
Jeff paled. "But you told the president it wasn't dangerous..."
Dami paused mid-step, then turned with a careless shrug. "Did I?" she said with a smirk. "Well, make sure no one finds out."
Jeff took a long, exhausted breath. He knew Dami well—genius, unpredictable, and the crown jewel of TKA's scientific division. Her boredom was a ticking time bomb. Not dangerous in itself, but the search to cure it? That's where the danger began.
"But... what about your artifact research?" Jeff asked, changing the subject.
"I lost interest. I thought they'd be revolutionary—millions of years old, discovered by TKA itself. But they're junk," she replied, waving her hand dismissively.
Jeff sighed, rubbing his temples. "Got it... ma'am," he muttered sarcastically.
____
Days passed, and Dami's team remained absorbed in a multitude of assignments.
Alien postmortems.
Experiments to develop rapid-healing serums.
New-generation mechanical suits.
Analysis of ancient artifacts from planets believed to be billions of years old.
Work never stopped—but for Dami, nothing sparked that thrill anymore.
Her attention, her obsession, had zeroed in on the thing growing in the glass chamber. From morning to midnight, she sat at her table near it, eyes locked, unblinking.
Ten days had gone by.
Ten days, and she had forgotten what food tasted like. What sleep felt like.
Her skin had turned pale. Her dark circles deepened like bruises. She hadn't combed her hair in days.
And yet, she stared.
Hour after hour.
Unmoving.
Unwavering.
She had even submitted a formal request to move the specimen to her home. A ridiculous idea. Every authority, including herself, knew it was absurd. And yet, she still made the request. Her colleagues were left speechless by her audacity—and more so by her desperation.
DAY 15 | RESEARCH LAB | 10:00 AM
Jeff was exhausted—physically and mentally. Watching the brilliant woman who once dismissed ancient artifacts after exactly three days and four hours now spiral into obsession over a black hunk of flesh for days was... terrifying.
Carrying two mugs of coffee, he walked over and sat beside her. She didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the chamber.
He offered the mug wordlessly. She took it, still not looking.
Her hands were trembling slightly.
He spoke softly, more to connect than to question. "What do the reports say?"
Dami smiled faintly, the color in her face barely visible. "It's growing. Strong. Consistent."
She took a sip, sighed deeply, and murmured, "Thanks… I needed that."
Jeff hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Listen... I need to tell you something."
She didn't respond, only blinked slowly.
"I overheard people talking. They said if this thing remains in its current state for more than ten days… they'll destroy it."
The mug slipped from Dami's fingers, crashing to the floor in a burst of shattered porcelain and coffee.
"What did you just say?" she barked.
The entire lab froze. Everyone turned. Eyes filled with confusion, curiosity, and concern.
Jeff swallowed. "You knew this when they handed it over. Don't act like you didn't."
But Dami didn't care. Her voice rose, her anger uncontained. "I sent them the reports. It's stable—growing, even! Why would they even consider killing it?!"
Her voice echoed off the metallic walls. The room fell into stunned silence.
Jeff leaned in, lowering his voice, desperate to end the scene. "Stop shouting. You're drawing attention."
But Dami had already spun around. "You're useless. I'll go talk to them myself!"
She stormed toward her office, muttering under her breath. "How... how can they just kill it...?"
The rest of the lab remained frozen in place. People whispered to each other about what they'd just witnessed. Someone finally complained to upper command.
Moments later, two armed guards entered. Without a word, they seized Dami and began dragging her away like a sack of grain.
"Wait—what are you doing?! Let me go!" she screamed, kicking.
"Stop! STOP IT!"
She vanished through the doors, still shouting.
In her absence, the whispers multiplied. People said genius always tipped toward madness—and now, Dami Nicole was just another example to fuel their hollow theories.
Five days passed.
Dami tried everything—calls, letters, formal apologies. She begged to return, pleaded for another chance.
But no one listened.
They told her to rest.
To recover.
To let it go.
Time dragged by.
Three more days later, she was asleep in her room—her first in what felt like eternity.
But peace never lasted long.
A thunder of energy snapped through her room. Portals cracked open midair, glowing with power. A full military unit from TKA emerged, weapons drawn, eyes sharp.
Dami sat upright, startled.
The lead officer stepped forward, his badge gleaming under the room's white lights.
"Elos. Special Force," he said calmly. "You need to come with us."
Dami didn't ask why. She didn't hesitate. She stood up barefoot, back straight, a quiet, focused determination in her eyes. Somewhere deep down—she already knew.
The marble floor stung her feet with cold as she stepped into the portal.
A flash—and then she stood in the lab once more. But it was no longer her lab.
Dozens of heavily armed soldiers surrounded the central chamber. Their guns pointed inward, toward the black figure floating behind reinforced glass.
A child.
Or something that looked like one.
Its body shimmered like made of black thick liquid, black as void. Its glowing white eyes lacked pupils—just empty power. Around the base of the chamber, the floor was soaked red. Bits of limbs and scorched armor scattered like broken toys.
The air was heavy with blood. With fear.
Dami gasped—but she didn't flinch. Her heart thundered against her ribs. Her steps were slow, deliberate.
The child inside the chamber let out a gurgled laugh, his inky body shifting, twitching. His small hands tapped the glass.
"Bo... ah… ah…" he muttered like a baby learning to speak.
Dami's throat tightened. If only I had a camera... this moment...
She lowered herself onto her knees, inching forward until she was just beside the glass. Her blood-smeared fingers trembled as she extended her hand.
No one dared move.
Everyone watched.
The same child who had killed grown soldiers just by their presence now sat quietly... watching her.
A ripple of movement spread across the child's body. Black tendrils extended from his back—slowly, cautiously—and touched Dami's fingers.
A hush fell over the room.
It had chosen her.
The realization hit them all at once. Eyes widened. Guns slowly lowered.
In a control room above, someone watched from a screen—silent, calculating. They stood from their chair, hands clasped behind their back.
"Erase the name Alen Hampsom," the figure said, turning away from the screen. "Give him a new identity."
A pause. Then a satisfied smirk.
"He will be my next pawn."