As I uttered the words "System Open," an enigmatic window materialized before me, suspended in mid-air like a mirage brought to life. Its borders shimmered with a radiant glow, an otherworldly energy pulsing faintly, as if it were alive. The screen was translucent, its surface a shifting tableau of symbols and information that defied immediate comprehension. I blinked several times, my mind grappling with the impossibility of what I was seeing. It wasn't just an illusion—it felt real, tangible, yet incomprehensibly alien.
For a moment, I sat frozen, my breath caught in my chest. My fingers twitched at my sides as I fought the urge to reach out and touch it, unsure if it would react or vanish the moment I made contact. The symbols continued to rearrange themselves, coalescing into lines of text written in a language I could finally recognize. My heart thudded loudly in my chest, each beat a reminder of the impossibility before me.
My initial reaction was to look around the room, seeking some reassurance that I wasn't hallucinating. The sterile hospital walls remained unchanged, the steady hum of medical equipment a faint backdrop to my escalating thoughts. And then the nurse entered, her footsteps soft against the floor as she approached with a clipboard in hand. My eyes darted between her and the status window, panic flaring within me. Could she see it? Did she notice the ethereal glow that now occupied the space between us?
For a fleeting second, I thought she did. Her gaze lingered on me, her brows knitting together as if she were about to comment. My pulse quickened. But then she spoke, her tone casual, asking about my comfort and health, completely oblivious to the glowing screen hovering in the air. I watched her intently, my eyes searching for any indication that she was aware of what was happening, but there was none.
It became clear: this was mine alone. The screen, the system—it existed for me and me alone. Relief mixed with a strange sense of responsibility. As the nurse left the room, I finally allowed myself to focus on the window again, my curiosity overcoming my apprehension. I studied it carefully, noting its strange yet intuitive design, the way its faint glow seemed to respond to my presence.
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A week later, I was discharged from the hospital. My body was still weak, but I could walk without assistance, and the fresh air outside was a welcome reprieve from the sterile confines of the hospital. The streets felt different—brighter, louder, and somehow more alive than I remembered. The world itself seemed to have shifted in my absence, though whether it was truly the world or simply my perception of it, I couldn't be sure.
I made my way home, anticipation and unease warring within me. The familiar facade of my house came into view, its exterior unchanged from when I had last seen it. My footsteps quickened as I approached, a sense of comfort washing over me. Pushing open the door, I stepped inside and called out, "Mom? Dad? I'm home!"
Silence greeted me. The house was still, unnervingly so. I frowned, glancing around the dimly lit interior. "Mom?" I called again, louder this time. Still, no response. Unease prickled at the edges of my mind, and I ventured deeper into the house, checking each room in turn. They were empty.
Just as panic began to take root, the status window reappeared before me, its glow cutting through the shadows. This time, it wasn't blank. The screen displayed something far more chilling: surveillance footage. My heart sank as I recognized the figures on the screen—my parents. They were bound and beaten, their faces bloodied and bruised, their bodies slumped in defeat. A group of figures loomed over them, their postures menacing, their intentions unmistakably cruel.
The footage was brutal, each frame more harrowing than the last. My parents were being assaulted, their lives hanging by a thread. I watched in horror as they endured blow after blow, their muffled cries of pain echoing in my ears despite the soundless display. The world seemed to tilt, my mind struggling to reconcile the image before me with the loving, strong figures I had always known.
Then, something within me snapped. A surge of fury erupted, a force so raw and unrelenting that it felt as though my very essence had been ignited. My body trembled, my fists clenched, and the air around me seemed to vibrate with an unseen energy. The walls of the house quaked in response, cracks spiderwebbing outward as the sheer magnitude of my rage manifested physically. It was as if the very fabric of reality was bending to my will, unable to contain the emotions coursing through me.
Through the haze of anger, my mind latched onto a singular truth: this was no random act of violence. The footage offered a clue, a glimpse of familiar faces among the assailants—faces I recognized from my past. They were the bullies who had tormented me during my school days, their cruelty leaving scars that had yet to fade. And now, they had turned their attention to my parents.
Fueled by righteous fury, I pieced together the motive behind their heinous act. It wasn't random. These bullies were connected to something larger, something darker. My mind raced, connecting dots and drawing lines until the answer became clear. The Xue conglomerate. It all led back to them.
With determination burning in my chest, I made my decision. There would be no hesitation, no second-guessing. My parents' suffering would not go unanswered. I raced toward the Xue estate, each step carrying me closer to the source of this turmoil. This was no longer just about vengeance—it was about justice. For my parents, for myself, and for the years of pain that had culminated in this moment.
" I will take my revenge one day. I asure you I will kill every single one of those people with my own hands and raw power." I said with burning rage.