Morning light seeped into the room, illuminating the sterile surroundings. As Sam opened his eyes, the specter of the previous day's events hung heavily in his thoughts. Tentatively, he attempted to speak, testing the waters of his regained voice. To his relief, words flowed out - soft and subdued - but coherent.
And then, just as he was basking in the triumph of his restored speech, the System's voice echoed once again within the confines of his mind.
[Mutation completed.]
The announcement fell like a puzzle piece snapping into place, unlocking a new chapter of uncertainty and curiosity. His System, it seemed, had weathered its storm. But the questions remained as daunting and inscrutable as the day before.
[Empathy System changed to Daily Fortune System.]
This message from the System was akin to the first thunderclap of a looming storm. A storm of change, perhaps. Sam tried to reconcile this information with the little he knew about the original System.
[As the Host died, the System used all the gathered empathy points to save you and used the rest of the points to mutate.]
A strange sense of gratitude welled up in him, almost humanizing the System. It had saved him, had risked its existence for him. The notion felt absurd yet overwhelmingly real.
[Congratulations to the Host on surviving.]
[One Advanced Treasure Box Obtained!]
[Host can gain a random Treasure Box every day.]
[Host can buy the items gained in the treasure boxes in the store section.]
His mind buzzed with this newfound information as more notifications continued to roll in. A wave of surrealism washed over him, wrapping his thoughts in a veil of disbelief. Advanced Treasure Box? Daily gains? A store section? All these things were nonexistent from his previous understanding of the System. Yet, they were here, part of his new reality.
[Note: Only items gained through the Treasure Boxes are available to buy in the store.] [Note 2: Host can earn points by doing different things. Explore it yourself.]
Sam took a deep breath, letting the fresh oxygen flood his brain as he tried to keep up with this deluge of information. 'What divine entity did I cross paths with on my journey back?' He wondered to himself, trying to fit this into his worldview.
With time, he started coming to terms with the situation. 'At least I didn't lose the System and didn't really die, thanks to it. But who could possibly want me dead?' His thoughts started veering toward the unanswered questions.
As his mind wrestled with the new reality, the allure of the Advanced Treasure Box grew. He yearned to unravel the mysteries it held. However, just as he was about to succumb to his curiosity, the door creaked open, and his father walked in, carrying the weight of the world with him. At that moment, Sam chose to postpone his exploration of the Treasure Box, the new version of his life, waiting patiently for a more appropriate time.
-
Ryan, wearing the slightly strained expression of a man used to shouldering burdens, stepped through the door into the sterile hospital room. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint notes of lilacs from a bouquet someone had thoughtfully sent. The hum of the air conditioner played a gentle rhythm in the background, a soothing counterpoint to the occasional beeping of machines.
"How are you feeling, my son?" Ryan's words, though spoken lightly, carried a weight of unsaid concern. His eyes took in the figure of Sam sprawled on the hospital bed, his son's youth stark against the harsh white of the sheets.
"I'm feeling so much better, Dad." Sam's response came with an almost surprising vitality. Although still frail, his voice was threaded with an undercurrent of optimism. "In a week, I would be able to check out from the hospital." His words seemed to hang in the air like a hopeful promise, hinting at an unwavering spirit.
"We will see about that," Ryan replied, not wanting to dampen his son's spirit but also not ready to accept such a quick recovery. His eyes, weary yet filled with love, scanned his son's face for signs of pain or discomfort. "You should start with walking as your body has not adapted after the long coma. Let the doctors decide on it."
"I know, Dad. The doctors shall decide what to do," Sam said, his voice touched with a gentle amusement. It was as if he was privy to an inside joke that his father wasn't. "But from what I know about my body, I think that a week is what I need for a full recovery."
Ryan paused at this, contemplating his son's self-assuredness and confidence that felt as boundless as the sky after a rainstorm. Sam's smile was a little cryptic, like there was something he was keeping to himself, a secret hidden deep beneath the surface of his gaze. Only Sam knew why he was so confident. His conviction stemmed not from overconfidence, but from something far more extraordinary, the Mutation of his System. Though unknown to the rest of the world, this truth held his life's reins, steering him towards an uncertain yet intriguing future.
Ryan ran a hand through his graying hair, weariness evident in the creases around his eyes. He looked at his son, whose assurance in his recovery seemed oddly comforting yet inexplicably daunting at the same time. With a sigh of resignation, he conceded, "Alright, I won't argue with you. Tell me if you need anything, like your favorite dishes or some books to read." His words carried the tone of a plea, a father's unspoken admission that he'd willingly bend the world to make his child comfortable.
Sam's gaze flickered to the fluorescent light overhead, casting an eerie glow onto his pale face. He forced a smile, trying to lighten the somber mood. "Alright, Dad. How is Mom? And my little sister?" His voice was but a whisper, barely disturbing the sterile silence of the room. There was a tremor in his words, a hint of an emotion he could hardly keep at bay. His heart yearned to see the two most important women in his life.
Ryan's eyes softened at the question, understanding the unvoiced longing that rested heavily between Sam's words. "They're in good condition. Wait for a day or two, and all of us will be in the same room. Don't worry." His words were like the calming waves of a tranquil sea, attempting to soothe the tide of uncertainty threatening to engulf his son.
"Okay, Dad," Sam acquiesced, offering a slight nod in response. His gaze met his father's, holding an inexplicable mix of strength and vulnerability. "You be with Mom; I think she will need your presence more. You should go to her. I'll be fine, and the doctors will be coming in for regular checkups, so don't worry about me."
After a long moment in the disquieting stillness of the room, Ryan sighed. His eyes bore into Sam's with an intensity that held a mirror to the emotions roiling within him - fear, relief, sadness, and a love so deep it was almost tangible. Then, in a sudden show of acceptance, he smiled at his son, which felt akin to lifting an enormous weight from his shoulders. He nodded, before turning around, his silhouette disappearing through the door.
-
Sam watched his father's retreating back, his heart clenching with a guilt he couldn't push away. In the silence that followed, he allowed himself to empathize with his father's pain, to try and comprehend the unfathomable turmoil his parents had to endure upon hearing their son was on the brink of death, just as they were planning to reunite as a family. And the tragedy was only magnified by the fact that his mother was carrying another life within her, a testament to the enduring hope amidst the overwhelming grief.
His thoughts strayed to the incident, the grim reminder of a fate he narrowly escaped. His mind darted like a hummingbird from one potential enemy to another, alighting on possibilities and speculating motives.
The first suspect that loomed into his mind was the government, followed closely by NovaTech. Their faces, unknown yet ominously looming, skulked in the shadows of his speculation.
Sam's eyes narrowed, the ghost of determination flickering in his gaze. 'I can't jump to conclusions. I need evidence before I point fingers,' he admonished himself, the wheels of his mind whirring. His fists clenched on the sterile hospital sheets, crumpling them in a silent promise, 'The mastermind behind this, pray that I never find out.' It was a pledge wrapped in an undertone of revenge, a sentiment growing within him like a storm waiting to unleash its fury.
With a newfound determination humming in his veins, Sam's mind churned, thoughts flicking between possible enemies and potential action plans. A whisper of an idea slithered into his thoughts.
'Now that I can move and speak, let's talk to Gaia.' His internal monologue was focused and firm, reflecting the steel-like resolve hardening within him.
His eyes shifted towards the small, nondescript phone resting precariously on the sterile, white hospital side table. With a grating rasp that echoed in the quiet room, he called out, "Hey, Gaia. You there?"
His words hung in the air for a fleeting second before being swallowed up by the responsive hum of Gaia's software. Her voice floated from the device's speaker.
[Yes, Big Brother. I have been monitoring you all the time. How are you feeling?]