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Chapter 1: Awakening

A sharp, metallic taste filled his mouth. His body burned like it had been torn apart and rebuilt with fire. Every nerve screamed, but he couldn't move. Not yet.

Dante Kieran's eyes flickered open, his vision blurry. The ceiling above him was cracked concrete, stained with damp streaks. Dim fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering like dying stars. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and rusted metal.

Where am I?

He tried to move, but pain exploded through his spine, sharp and unnatural, like something inside him had been rearranged. His fingers twitched against the cold metal surface beneath him—a table, a surgical slab?

His breath came in ragged gasps. His chest felt wrong. Heavy. Like something had been carved into him.

Dante forced his head down and froze.

A strange, glowing symbol pulsed beneath his skin, just above his heart. It wasn't ink. It wasn't a scar. It was alive, burning with an eerie silver-blue light that dimmed and brightened in slow, rhythmic waves—like a heartbeat.

This wasn't here before.

His mind scrambled for answers, but his memories were fractured. Gunfire. A dark alley. A voice whispering his name. The cold stab of a syringe into his neck.

Then—nothing.

A sudden click snapped him back to reality.

The door at the far end of the room slid open with a hiss. Heavy boots echoed against the cold floor, deliberate and controlled. A silhouette stood in the doorway, backlit by the sickly glow of overhead lights.

Dante's instincts screamed at him to move, to run—but his body wasn't listening. His pulse pounded against his skull as the figure stepped closer.

"Subject Zero has awakened," a deep voice murmured.

Panic surged through Dante's veins.

Subject Zero?

He wasn't about to wait for answers. With sheer willpower, he gritted his teeth and forced himself upright. Pain tore through him, but something else burned beneath it—something raw, untamed.

The glow in his chest flared.

A sudden pulse of energy erupted from his body, knocking over metal trays and shattering the nearest light. The figure stumbled back, cursing.

Dante barely had time to register what happened before his own vision darkened. The last thing he heard was an alarm blaring, followed by the sound of more footsteps rushing toward him.

And then—blackness.

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