Endless darkness, suffocating, yet eerily calm is all Damien felt while floating, weightless and fleshless, in an infinite void.
The pain that had wracked his body moments ago was gone, replaced by a strange sensation of detachment, like he was no longer connected to the mortal plane.
Then, he heard it.
A voice.
Soft and melodic, but with a mechanical precision, it pierced the silence like a knife, it was feminine yet devoid of emotion, as though spoken by something that had never truly felt.
"[Assimilation start]"
"[Checking the host's compatibility]"
"What… What's going on?" Damien's voice echoed in the emptiness, but he wasn't sure if anyone—or anything—was listening.
"[Compatible]"
Damien's pulse quickened, well, it would have if he still had a body to produce a pulse.
"[Damien Valtieri, 20 years old, Male]"
"[Planet X169712. Current year 2025]"
"What is happening?" he demanded, his voice tinged with both fear and curiosity.
"[Answer: Assimilation with the host is underway]"
The disembodied voice was steady, unwavering
"Who are you?" Damien asked, his voice hardening as he forced himself to focus, he knew whatever this was, fear wouldn't help him now
"[Answer: You can call me Uriel]"
"Uriel…" he repeated, it felt strange, almost alien
"What are you?"
There was a pause, one that stretched just long enough to feel unsettling.
"[Answer: I am an Artificial Intelligence from the year 2999, created by the ????? race to travel through space and time in search of a compatible host]"
Damien blinked—or at least he thought he did, it was hard to tell when he couldn't even feel his own body
"And that host is me?"
"[Affirmative]"
A strange mixture of emotions washed over Damien.
Confusion, intrigue, a flicker of fear, but most unexpectedly, a spark of hope.
Damien had spent most of his life fighting—fighting for survival, for money, for purpose, the future had always seemed bleak, a never-ending cycle of violence and emptiness. Yet now, in the depths of this void, something had changed.
For the first time in years, he allowed himself to feel optimistic.
"Maybe life isn't so bad after all," he muttered.
Uriel's voice cut through his thoughts. "[Host's mental state stabilizing. Assimilation 50% complete.]"
"Wait," Damien said, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What happens after the assimilation is complete?"
"[Answer: You will be granted access to advanced capabilities, including but not limited to heightened physical abilities, enhanced cognitive functions, and access to the knowledge of the ????? race]"
Damien's lips curled into a smirk. "So, I'm getting an upgrade?"
"[Affirmative]"
He couldn't help but laugh, the sound reverberating through the void, for the first time in what felt like forever, Damien felt like the universe was finally throwing him a lifeline. Whatever this Uriel was, whatever it intended to do with him, he knew one thing for sure: his life was about to change forever.
After what felt like an eternity, the voice echoed again
"[Assimilation completed]"
The void around him began to shift, colors bleeding into the darkness like ink in water, when he felt a sudden pull, as if the world itself was dragging him back into existence.
XXXX
Damien's eyes fluttered open, the blinding white of fluorescent lights above him making him squint, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nose. His head throbbed slightly, and his body felt weak, as though he'd just been through a war, the faint beeping of a heart monitor confirmed what his surroundings told him—he was in a hospital room.
He tried to sit up but stopped when he noticed a soft weight against his arm, turning his head, he saw her.
She was seated next to his bed, her head resting on the edge, dozed off, her angelic baby-pink hair cascaded around her delicate face, framing her porcelain-like skin. She had a thin, almost fragile stature, but there was an air of strength about her.
As she stirred awake, her long lashes fluttered, revealing lavender eyes that seemed to glow faintly, like a rare gemstone catching the light.
"Iris," he whispered, his voice raspy from disuse.
Iris Hart, his neighbor and one of the few people Damien could call a true friend. Despite her youthful appearance, she was well into her thirties, though she could easily pass for someone in their early twenties. Iris worked as the Head of Design for West Fashion Studio; the very company owned by Alex Jayson, most of what Damien knew about Alex came from her frequent venting sessions. She would often hang out at his house, ranting about her overbearing boss while they shared cheap wine and laughter.
A small smile crept onto Damien's face as he reached out to gently ruffle her soft pink hair, the gesture stirred her from her sleep, and she blinked groggily, trying to orient herself. When her lavender eyes finally locked onto his, they widened in shock.
"Damien!" she gasped, and before he could react, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
"Thank God you're okay," she said, her voice breaking with emotion. He felt her tremble slightly as she clung to him. "I thought I lost you…"
Damien chuckled softly, his arms moving to rub her back soothingly. "I'm very much alive, Iris. Unless this is the afterlife and you decided to join me for moral support."
She pulled back slightly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, and playfully smacked his shoulder. "Don't joke about that, you idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
"Worried enough to nap on my hospital bed?" he teased, his smirk growing wider.
"I wasn't napping! I was…" She faltered, her cheeks turning a shade that nearly matched her hair. "Fine, maybe I dozed off, but it was only because I've been here all-night waiting for you to wake up!"
"Looks like someone needs to work on their stamina, Miss Fashion Guru."
Iris rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Still a smartass, even after nearly dying."
"I wouldn't call it nearly dying. It's more like… taking an extended nap in style."
Before Iris could retort, the sound of the hospital room door shutting with a loud click drew their attention.
"Stay where you are. Nobody is allowed to leave this room," a man's voice commanded.
Damien and Iris turned toward the door, their expressions a mixture of confusion and caution.
Through the small glass window on the door, Damien caught a glimpse of someone walking past—a woman with fiery red hair that stood out like a flame against the sterile hospital hallway.
Even though she was several meters away the distance between them was worlds apart, her confident stride, the aura of command she carried, and the cold beauty of her profile—it could only be one person.
"Selene Salvatore," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing.
Hearing the name, Iris turned to him, confusion etched across her face. "Selene Salvatore? As in the head of the Salvatore family? The ones who—"
"Yes," Damien cut her off, his tone serious.
XXXX
Selene stepped into a dimly lit hospital room, her fiery red hair framed her striking face, but it was her eyes—crimson and blazing with fury—that could make even the bravest tremble.
On the bed before her lay a man wrapped in layers of bandages, his body barely clinging to life, the steady beep of the monitors was the only indication that he was still alive.
"Benjamin," she said, her voice icy, with no hint of emotion
Behind her, a tall man in his forties appeared, his blonde hair neatly combed, his muscular frame impeccably dressed in a tailored butler's outfit. His demeanor was calm, but his sharp eyes missed nothing.
"Yes, ma'am," he responded, his voice deep and steady.
"Find out who did this," she commanded, her tone icy and authoritative.
The butler, unflinching, bowed slightly. "As you wish, ma'am"
"Nobody dares to touch a Salvatore and lives to walk this earth"
XXXX