Pain.
That was the first thing that existed in Jax's mind. Then a second, deeper pain—a hollow ache that settled in his bones. As his eyes drew open, a third sensation eclipsed even the agony: hunger. A primal, all-consuming desire to consume.
It was as if his entire being could produce no other thought. His starving mind couldn't process the impossible details of the scene around him: the massive obsidian rock he'd landed on was gone, vanished without a trace. The canine Shamblers that had fallen with him weren't just dead; they were… disassembled. Gruesomely torn apart, their bodies scattered across the floor of the pit, their energy cores conspicuously absent.
In his hunger-driven euphoria, he hardly paid attention to his own limbs as they dug into the earthen wall with unnatural strength, hauling him back to the surface. Above, the remains of his team were scattered across the factory floor.
Like a mad dog, he dashed towards the closest backpack he could find. There was no civility in his actions as he tore the pack open, scattering its contents. Before the items could even touch the ground, his hands had already grabbed the G-Grade Nutri-Paste contained within. It tasted like wet cement and suffering, but he couldn't care less. He sucked on the tube like it was heaven itself, and in moments, it was drained. Ignoring the bodies on the ground, he dashed towards another backpack, repeating the ritual.
Jax could barely process his actions. It all felt like a fever dream.
The next time he surfaced from the haze, he was wading through a large, empty expanse of land, barely making out his surroundings in the encroaching darkness. He couldn't recall who he was, what he was doing, or where he was going. He was saved from the torture of figuring it out as his mind once again slipped into complete thoughtlessness, driven by a new, relentless instinct: walk.
When he woke again, he could feel a bit more control. It wasn't enough to make sense of his actions, but it was enough to notice the shriveled state of his body. A Dreg like him could never afford to have much meat on his bones—he had always been thin—but his current state was a horror. He was like a walking pile of unearthed bones, skin stretched taut over his frame.
That was the last thing he could recall before he blacked out again.
The next time he opened his eyes, he felt much more in control. He could tell where he was. He was dozens of meters away from the first of the outposts that bordered the A.E.G.I.S. military bunker. He was in excruciating pain. The moment he realized he was near the outpost, he screamed—in pain and desperation—knowing the surveillance systems could pick up his heat signature. They knew he was here, but there was no guarantee they would choose to rescue him.
Finally, he got tired of screaming. He could feel himself beginning to lose consciousness again, but he couldn't care less. It was a better end than begging for a mercy that would never come.
Jax opened his eyes with difficulty. The first thing that hit him was the smell: a sterile blend of antiseptics, the faint tang of bodily fluids, and the metallic rust in the ventilation system.
'Ahhh…'
He let out a soft groan as his body relished the embrace of the soft foam he lay on.
Wait—soft foam!
The realization hit him seconds later. With immense difficulty, he dragged his body off the hospital bed and onto his feet. The sudden movement initiated a series of sharp beeps from the monitor beside him.
"Hey, what are you doing up!" a young woman with dyed red hair and wearing a blue medical garb asked, her tone sharp with annoyance.
"Trying not to get my debt into the relegation zone," Jax answered with a hint of sarcasm. How would a D- or even C-Rank employee like her understand the plight of an F-Rank like him? He wasn't privy to the amenities they took for granted. Every single thing came at a cost, a cost that was fully reflected in his points.
The red-haired nurse couldn't care less. The only reason she was in this stinking F-Rank medbay was because she was among the lowest-performing apprentices in the 57th Nursing Training program. All she had to do was not make any major mistakes—or at least cover them effectively—for three months, and she would be back in the bunker. In her rightful position.
"You were not brought in with any possessions except for your clothes. During the assessment of your body, we had to cut through them. The pieces are in the second drawer. You'll have to make do with that, as you can't leave the medbay in our hospital gown."
"Okay," Jax weakly replied, everything still seeming like a dream.
The nurse saw his tired expression. She really didn't care about the place, but there was nothing wrong with pulling a few strings to assist a cute, half-dead man. She tinkered with a switch affixed to the hospital bed, turning off the bedrest meter.
"You can rest here a little bit more. Your body's ATP levels are severely lacking. It's not like there's anyone else in need of the bed." She pulled open the first drawer and handed him three tubes.
Jax didn't extend his hands. That was E-Grade Nutri-Paste, equivalent in value to a good week's wage for him. Noticing his indecision, the nurse encouraged him.
"The cost is on me. Just take it. Your body really needs it. I don't know how you managed to not die with how depleted you were."
"How… How did I get here?" Jax asked as he gratefully accepted the Nutri-Paste offered by her. He knew how higher-level personnel saw F-Ranks as charity cases. There was no dignity in the struggle to survive, and he desperately needed to survive.
"You were brought in by the Noids on guard at the outpost."
The Noids. High-level autonomous bots that performed simple, specialized tasks like surveillance and logging.
"How expensive was my treatment?" he asked, his anxiety suppressed.
"It wasn't as much as you would expect. You were mostly anemic, dehydrated, and starved. The cost comes from the blood sacs and high-energy drips you were placed on for the last eleven days."
"Eleven days!"
"Hahaha, yup! If you hadn't woken up today or the next, we would have initiated Directive 11."
"What's that?" Jax asked, though a cold dread told him he already knew.
"Well, the directive is an order that in situations like yours, where an F-Rank personnel is in a comatose state for up to two weeks, the medical team is tasked with ensuring all your organs are harvested and stored in the organ preservatory. For any possible usefulness they can offer in the future, of course."
A cold sensation traveled down his spine as the nurse confirmed his assumption. He wanted to ask for her name, but he knew better than to try to get close to a higher-ranked personnel like her. To her, he was most likely less than human.
The nurse didn't stay for long. After letting him know that he needed to report to the F-Level Management sector later, she excused herself. After she left, he closed the worn-out grey curtains that screened his bedside. He groaned with each motion, his body heavy, every movement an agony. The moment he laid back down, he booted up the Omni-Link affixed to his left wrist.
The first thing it displayed was his current debt. -75,373
His debt had risen by over 20,000 credits. He was too exhausted to be sorrowful. He still had a bit of leeway before he entered the relegation zone of -100,000.
As the number burned into his vision, a string of new letters, faint and blue, appeared over it, seeming to float in the air before his eyes.
[HELLO HOST]
[WELCOME BACK TO CONSCIOUS CONTROL]
He didn't panic like most people would have in this kind of situation. All he did was observe and analyze with a cold, calculating eye. He had been avoiding the thought, but here it was. The abnormality that happened before his death, the abnormality that had somehow brought him back to the institution from hundreds of kilometers away.
Before he could even process the greeting, his vision flooded with new information. Lines of code scrolled past, windows of diagnostic data flickered open and closed, and a wireframe schematic of his own body appeared in the center of his view. This was the true interface.
P.R.O.T.E.U.S. SYSTEM... ONLINE. WARNING: CRITICAL DAMAGE. FUNCTIONALITY AT 13%.
[INITIATING HOST BIOMETRIC ASSESSMENT...]
Jax watched, transfixed, as data streams analyzed his physical state with terrifying precision.
[ASSESSMENT COMPLETE]
Strength: F-Rank [Can exert a maximal punching force of 15kg / 33lb (CRITICAL ATROPHY)]
Speed: F-Rank [5 meters/sec | Can complete a 100-Meter dash in 20 Secs]
Endurance: F-Rank [Can sustain a mid-pace run for 2 minutes]
Reflex: F-Rank [320ms | Pathetic]
Constitution: F-Rank [Compromised]
F-Rank. He was familiar with the grading process; it was the method A.E.G.I.S. employed in calculating each individual's usefulness. He hadn't been this pathetic before the mission—his speed, endurance, and reflexes were all solidly D-Rank. The fusion, the coma, the starvation… it had consumed everything, leaving him a broken husk.
The development confirmed to him that something had changed. He had bound with something. He could not make heads or tails of the development, but he was sure of one thing: his life was about to completely change.
"Hello, Proteus… Hello?"
He tried to communicate with whatever it was that had bound with him, but there was no reply.
A new directive appeared on the HUD.
[HOST FUNCTIONALITY: 14%. SEVERE PHYSICAL CONDITIONING AND NUTRITIONAL INTAKE REQUIRED TO RESTORE BASELINE FUNCTIONALITY.]
[P.R.O.T.E.U.S. ENTERING POWER-SAVING MODE]
"So that's how it is," Jax muttered to himself. Whatever had bound with him seemed to be in a low-energy mode because of how pathetic his own physical state was.
"Huuuuuuuu…" He softly exhaled.
He brought the E-Grade Nutri-Paste to his mouth and tore it open with his teeth. It tasted like mud, but it was much less unpleasant than the G-Grade paste that was his normal meal.
As he rested his back on the metal frame of the hospital bed, he recalled the members of his team who stood out to him. He recalled the imagery of their bodies torn all across the floor. He recalled how helpless he felt, how helpless they felt.
A tear slowly streaked downwards from his eye as he muttered, almost silently, "I remember."