The black figure's glowing blue eyes narrowed, glinting with frustration. It loomed over Aurel, its lean body shifting ever so slightly, like a predator deciding on a new tactic. Aurel lay still, helpless within his metallic shell, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His heart thudded unevenly in his chest, and his Sixth Sense screamed—another warning.
The air in the cave thickened with mana, a suffocating pressure bearing down on him. Aurel's eyes widened as he saw it—thin, almost invisible tendrils of mana unfurling from the creature's head. The tendrils writhed in the air, barely detectable, twisting and turning like serpents.
Only his Mana Sensitivity allowed him to see them. Otherwise, they would've been undetectable, silent and deadly.
Aurel's pulse quickened. The tendrils snaked toward him, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment.
No. Stay out of my head…
But there was no escape. He could do nothing but watch, frozen in place, as the tendrils slid closer—closer—until they reached the edge of his skull. And then, with a sickening slither, they penetrated his mind.
The pain hit instantly.
It was unlike anything Aurel had ever felt—like red-hot needles burrowing into the soft tissue of his brain. His thoughts shattered, scrambled, the pain tearing through his skull like jagged shards of glass. He wanted to scream, to thrash, to claw the tendrils away—but his body refused to move. The metallic skin still locked him in place, leaving him defenseless against the assault.
He clenched his jaw, his vision blurring, black spots dancing at the edges of his sight. The creature was inside his mind now, rifling through his thoughts, his memories, twisting them into something unnatural. His brain felt like it was being pried apart, layer by layer.
No… get out…
His consciousness buckled under the assault, collapsing inward. The pain became unbearable, a searing agony that twisted his mind into knots. And then—
The world fell away.
When Aurel opened his eyes, the pain was gone. But the world around him was… different.
He lay on a cold metal table, his wrists and ankles strapped down with thick, leather restraints. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an unforgiving glare across the sterile room. The air smelled of antiseptic and metal, sharp and clinical.
Aurel blinked, his heart pounding against his ribs. His thoughts felt strange—disjointed, as if they didn't quite belong to him. Where… am I?
The sound of footsteps echoed through the room. Aurel turned his head, wincing as the restraints bit into his skin. Figures in white lab coats moved around him, their faces hidden behind surgical masks and glasses. Their voices were muffled, distant, like they were speaking underwater.
"Subject has stabilized," one of them said, scribbling notes onto a clipboard. "Proceed with the next phase."
Another scientist leaned over him, shining a flashlight into his eyes. "How are you feeling, Aurel? Any disorientation? Pain?"
Aurel stared at the man, his mind spinning. How do they know my name?
His breathing quickened, panic rising in his chest. Then, like a dam breaking, memories flooded his mind—disjointed and chaotic, but undeniable.
He was here because of his Adaptability.
The government had taken him away after his awakening, dragging him from his apartment under the cover of night. They had told him it was "for the greater good," but the truth was far more sinister. They wanted to study him, to dissect him, to see how far they could push his abilities.
They had been running experiments on him ever since. Weeks, maybe months had passed—he couldn't remember exactly how long. Time didn't seem to matter in this place.
Aurel's head swam with implanted memories—needles, machines, cold doctors scribbling notes as they forced him to adapt to increasingly dangerous conditions. They fed him poisons, exposed him to extreme environments, and watched as his body adjusted again and again, marveling at how Adaptability allowed him to survive it all.
His stomach twisted in revulsion. He could see the memories so clearly—could feel the weight of every experiment, every test—but something was off. A nagging sense of wrongness buzzed at the back of his mind, faint but persistent.
This isn't real, he thought, clinging desperately to the flicker of awareness. This has to be another illusion.
But it felt real. The cold metal against his skin, the bright lights overhead, the sterile scent in the air—it was too vivid, too perfect.
"Subject is showing signs of mental resistance," one of the scientists muttered, adjusting the straps around Aurel's wrists. "Increase the sedative dosage."
A syringe appeared in the corner of his vision, the needle glinting under the harsh light. Aurel's heart raced, his pulse thundering in his ears.
No. I have to get out of here.
But the memories were so heavy, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn't shake off. They told him this was his life now—that the outside world was gone, that there was no escape from the lab. He was just a test subject, trapped in a never-ending cycle of experiments.
The syringe hovered above his arm, the needle poised to pierce his skin.
Aurel clenched his fists, his mind whirling in confusion and panic. It's not real. It's not real… But the illusion was relentless, dragging him deeper into its web.
He fought against the memories—against the weight of the implanted thoughts—but they felt so real. He could remember the fear, the isolation, the cold indifference of the scientists watching his every move.
The needle pricked his skin, and a cold numbness spread through his arm, making his limbs heavy and unresponsive.
No. Focus.
Aurel's heart pounded as he clung to the only thing that still felt real—his instincts. The nagging sense of wrongness at the back of his mind grew sharper, more insistent, like an alarm ringing in the distance.
This can't be real.
The world around him wavered, flickering like a poorly tuned hologram. The lab, the scientists, the cold metal table—all of it rippled, the edges blurring and distorting.
Aurel gritted his teeth, his pulse hammering in his ears. He forced himself to focus, to push past the fear and confusion clouding his mind.
It's an illusion. Just an illusion. Fight it.
The world flickered again, the image of the lab shifting and distorting. The scientists' faces twisted, their features blurring into shapeless masks.
Aurel clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body straining against the illusion. He had to break free. He had to find the truth.
And then—
The walls of the lab shattered like glass, fragments of the illusion scattering into the void.
Aurel gasped, his eyes snapping open as the cold reality of the cave flooded back. The black figure was still there, crouched over him, its glowing blue eyes narrowing in frustration.
The tendrils of mana slowly withdrew from Aurel's skull, slithering back into the creature's head. It tilted its head, as if studying him, annoyed that its mental assault had failed.
Aurel lay motionless, his mind still reeling from the experience, his breath ragged. But he knew one thing for certain- This creature wouldn't be able to affect him again
New Trait Acquired: Mental Resistance (Rare Tier)
Description: Grants heightened defense against mental attacks and illusions, reducing their impact and shortening recovery time.