Messimah stared dumbfounded at the conjured image of the necklace floating before him. His hand instinctively moved towards his neck, a familiar habit of playing with the necklace, only to halt midway as he remembered it was no longer there.
"So... you were the one who saved me?" Messimah asked slowly, still struggling to process the situation.
[At a cost, yes. By protocols.]
Messimah frowned at the cryptic response. Was the cost the guy who was about to kill me? He wondered.
[Not exactly, but yes.]
"What cost?"
[At the cost of your life...]
"Huh?"
But I was already on the verge of death…
[Host will lose his life in two weeks if another source to extract genetic codes is not found.]
"Genetic codes? I don't understand what you're talking about," Messimah muttered. The fact that he was going to lose his life didn't seem to disturb him at the moment.
[Genetic Codes: the complex set of biological instructions that make up an organism. In this case, not just any Genetic code would suffice. Only Awakened Genetic Codes will be able to extend your life at this point.]
"What the fuck are you talking about? What the hell are awakened genetic codes?"
[Awakened Genetic Codes are advanced sequences of DNA or synthetic equivalents that have undergone a transformation, allowing their carriers to access extraordinary abilities or traits beyond normal biological limits.]
Messimah processed this information, flashes of the Federation Officer's actions replaying in his mind.
"So, that guy carried an Awakened Genetic Code?" he asked, beginning to understand how the man had done what he did.
[Yes.]
"And I need to acquire more Awakened Genetic Codes from people like him?"
[Yes. However, it is not limited to your species. There are other organisms that meet the requirements.]
"So, I just need one more person or organism with Awakened Genetic Codes, and after extracting it, I won't have to worry about my lifespan anymore?"
[No. Until you reach a certain threshold, your lifespan will remain on a timer. The more Awakened Genetic Codes you absorb, the longer you will live. However, after a certain point, only higher-quality genetic codes will suffice. Would you like to see your status?]
Messimah hesitated, his mind oscillating between understanding and confusion. "Yes?"
[Name: Messimah Domo]
[Age: 17]
[Race: Human]
[Gene Class: N/A (Psychic)]
[Level: Gene Formation (19%)]
[Title: N/A]
[Strength: 4]
[Speed: 5]
[Dexterity: 11]
[Intelligence: 13]
[Wisdom: 13]
[Will: 23]
[Constitution: N/A (Mind's Eye)]
[Charisma: 8]
[Lifespan: 330 hours]
What the hell? I have only 13 days and a few hours left to live?
Messimah paused, unwilling to continue the conversation as a sharp pain throbbed in his head, signaling an impending headache.
Am I losing it? Am I going insane?
A rational person would naturally question their sanity in such circumstances—after all, he was both hearing and seeing things. Yet, after reflecting on everything he had experienced that day, Messimah concluded that the likelihood of it all being real was far greater than the alternative.
Collapsing to the ground, Messimah inhaled deeply, attempting to steady himself. After a few seconds, he exhaled slowly, releasing the tension within him.
Looking around, he felt as if he had experienced a lifetime's worth of events in just a few hours.
Messimah's laughter started as a slow, quiet chuckle, but it grew louder and more maniacal as time passed. It was as if he had lost his mind.
Was I just worried about my life? Am I afraid of death?
The thought gnawed at him as his laughter gradually subsided. Still kneeling, he tilted his head back, letting the rain fall onto his face as he gazed into the stormy sky.
Trumm is gone… Gola is gone, and yet, here I am worrying about my lifespan…
A memory surfaced, bringing back the times he had scorned the homeless in the slums of Jejity—those too poor to own anything, too weak to change or fight their circumstances, or too cowardly to end their suffering.
'The living dead' as he so liked to call them.
He recalled saying that if he was in their shoes, he would have done death a favor by taking his own life.
If you want to live, then live. Don't let anything hold you down. And if you want to die, then at least have the audacity to.
Messimah said to himself, chuckling at the irony of his circumstances. He, felt like he was in the shoes of the people he called living dead, and yet, he wasn't capable of holding himself to his words.
Currently, Messimah craved vengeance, a desire that kept him anchored to life. Yet, the pain of losing Trumm and Gola was unbearable, tearing a hole in his heart and sapping away at his will to live.
He had dreams—dreams that he wasn't ready to abandon. But those dreams had always included Trumm and Gola, and now, without them, guilt consumed him. He felt he should have been the one to die first.
He wanted to live, but the guilt of surviving without his friends tormented him, making him yearn for death. He wanted to die, but his thirst for vengeance chained him to life.
A dilemma unlike any he had faced before.
I assumed that they were weak as they chose to remain alive, doing nothing to change their circumstances… do I still call myself a fighter if I cannot recognize a battle? Or was I always the weak one that pretended to be strong?
Is this selfishness, or selflessness?
"I am such a hypocrite," He chuckled as he closed his eyes. Letting the rain mask the tears that rolled down his eyes.
In that moment, Messimah felt a newfound understanding for those he once dismissed as the 'living dead.'
A few more minutes passed before Messimah calmed down again, his eyes lingering on the status displayed by the system.
"Why worry about my lifespan if I can accomplish my goal in two weeks? I just need to get back to that Floating Fortress and eliminate the one who ordered our deaths," Messimah muttered, his voice low and resolute.
His mind began to craft a reckless plan, one that would likely endanger his life. Yet, Messimah, now more than ever, disregarded the potential consequences of his actions.
"But how?" he questioned, his gaze shifting toward the remnants of the Federation Officer's suit.
"Can I die within these two weeks from other causes?" Messimah asked, addressing the air.
[Yes.]
Nodding in understanding, he approached the remains of the Federation Officer's suit. Among the debris, a seven-inch, rectangular, grey-metallic tray lay partially submerged in the wet sand.
Even if the suit is damaged, it shouldn't be reduced to just this,
Messimah thought, staring at the tray. Suddenly, a memory that felt both his and foreign surfaced—a memory of how to activate the suit.
"What is this memory, and how did I get it?" Messimah wondered aloud.
[Because the Metahuman from whom the awakened genes were extracted was of the Psychic class, and due to an unforeseen circumstance, the entirety of the Metahuman's essence was absorbed, facilitating your own awakening.]
Messimah wasn't expecting a response but was pleased to receive an explanation. At least it dispelled the notion that he was remembering things he never experienced.
A thought crossed his mind, and he decided to test it. The memory revealed that there were few ways to activate the Nano-tech suit, the primary one requiring blood recognition, recognized Neural link and a password—a mere formality, much like two-step verification. The blood and neural link were the crucial components.
The rain would have washed away any remaining blood. Messimah reasoned, frowning as his plan became more complicated.
[Host can simulate the Metahuman's unique genetic code with his blood. Would you like to proceed?]
Messimah paused, then answered, "Yes."
A slight vibration coursed through his body, an uncomfortable sensation that made him wince. Without knowing how or when, a drop of his blood escaped and landed on the grey tray.
As the altered drop of Messimah's blood touched the grey metallic tray, the surface shimmered and vibrated in response. Instantly, the tray fragmented into thousands of tiny metallic nanoplates, each one hovering momentarily before springing into action.
The nanoplates swarmed towards Messimah like intelligent particles, aligning themselves with precise accuracy. They started at his chest, spreading outwards in a rapid wave, interlocking and forming a seamless, protective layer. The process was so smooth and fluid it resembled liquid metal solidifying upon contact with his body.
The remnants of the bionic skeletal suit clinging to Messimah were effortlessly discarded by the nanoplates, moving aside in a synchronized, fluid motion. Within moments, the nanoplates enveloped his entire frame, adjusting and molding themselves to fit him perfectly, creating armor that felt both flexible and impenetrable.
Finally, the nanoplates formed a visor-like helmet over his head, seamlessly integrating with the rest of the suit. Through the helmet, a heads-up display flickered to life, feeding crucial tactical information directly into Messimah's vision.
Breathing in the suit felt surreal, as though he was inhaling the freshest air he had ever encountered. His chest rose and fell as he adjusted to this new sensation.
"[Blood recognized, initiating Neural Link...]"
"[Link successful, following activation protocols...]"
The heads-up display projected these messages, resembling the interface Messimah had seen through the Genesis System. In a short while, he had complete access to the suit.