He woke to the sound of breathing that wasn't his own.
For a long time, there was only that — a faint rasp, mechanical and wet, echoing in the dark. Then came sensation: cold air crawling over skin that didn't feel like skin at all. Every inhale burned, every exhale came out as static. His lungs worked in uneven stutters, and something inside his chest clicked with each beat.
Am I alive?
He tried to open his eyes. Nothing happened. A layer of grime clung to his lashes, sealing them shut. When he forced them apart, they made a tearing sound like paper being peeled from glue. Pale light stabbed into his vision — sterile, artificial, flickering through thick glass.
He was lying in a cylindrical chamber filled with cracked liquid conduits and shattered tubing. Symbols glowed faintly across the inner wall: looping runes mixed with digital code. A broken screen blinked above him, half the letters dead.
[SYSTEM BOOT ERROR – DATA INTEGRITY COMPROMISED]
[PRIMARY CORE STABILITY: 43%]
[RESTARTING… RESTARTING…]
A surge of panic jolted through him. His hand slammed against the glass. It wasn't his hand. It was pale, sinewy — segmented like insect chitin, cords of fiber and flesh interwoven with faintly luminescent veins.
He wanted to scream, but his throat made a distorted, gurgling sound. The glass resisted. He slammed harder. A crack spiderwebbed through the surface, and greenish liquid spilled out around him. Cold, viscous fluid soaked his body as gravity pulled him free.
He fell onto the floor, coughing, choking on fluid that wasn't water. His body convulsed, his limbs jerking like a marionette being tested for the first time. When his vision steadied, he saw where he was — a laboratory, or what was left of one.
Shattered containment pods lined the walls like coffins. Inside each, something unrecognizable floated: malformed bodies, animal and human parts fused together, preserved in cloudy gel. Dust coated everything. The machines hummed on low emergency power, some blinking weakly as if they hadn't been touched in decades.
He pressed a trembling hand to his chest. Beneath the uneven plating, he felt something beating — rhythmic, deliberate. Not a human heart. A construct's pulse.
[SYSTEM REBOOT SUCCESSFUL]
[Welcome, SUBJECT #07.]
[Species: Homunculus (Composite-Class)]
[Core Type: Adaptive Prototype v0.3]
A translucent screen blinked into existence before his eyes, faint and flickering. It wasn't glass or light — more like the air itself had chosen to display information. He blinked again, and the screen faded in response, reacting to his focus.
This… looks like a UI.
Like a game interface.
The thought came unbidden, absurd and comforting all at once. He tried speaking, and the voice that came out was hoarse but intelligible.
"Menu… open."
The screen expanded obediently.
[Status Overview]
Name: —
Level: 1
Health: 63/100
Core Stability: 43%
Skills: —
Titles: —
Condition: Incomplete Construct
Incomplete. That word sank into him like a hook. He tried to stand, but his legs trembled — they weren't symmetrical. One looked almost human, the other reinforced with bone plating and clawed toes. His balance felt wrong, his center of gravity uneven. Every motion came with the faint whir of mechanisms beneath skin.
He stumbled through the wreckage until he found a mirror — or what was left of one. The reflection made him freeze.
A patchwork being stared back. Smooth skin stretched unevenly across mismatched flesh: scales, fur, sinew, and chitin all stitched into a humanoid frame. His face was almost human — almost — but his eyes were luminous, shifting between colors like oil in sunlight.
"...What am I?" he whispered.
The System answered.
[Designation: Adaptive Homunculus]
[Purpose: Experimental Entity – Subject of Project Chimera]
[Creator: Dr. Yvaine Solas]
He had no memory of any doctor. No memory of being made. Only flashes: white light, the hum of machinery, a woman's voice murmuring about "potential consciousness transfer" — and then, nothing.
He searched his mind and found fragments of another life. A desk, a computer, games with character creation screens. Friends shouting through headsets. A life defined by pixels and numbers.
Ethan Cross. That name surfaced like an air bubble rising from the depths. That was me.
And now?
He looked around at the corpses in their broken pods. All the other subjects were dead — failed experiments, malformed beyond reason. The same fate should have been his. So why had he awakened?
Something moved in the shadows. A low growl echoed from the far end of the lab.
Eion — no, Ethan — turned slowly. A creature crawled out from behind a broken containment unit. It was one of the experiments, half-dissolved yet somehow alive. Its body writhed with exposed nerves and eyes that blinked in random places. It dragged itself toward him, drooling black fluid.
Instinct took over. He stumbled backward, grabbing a piece of metal piping. When the thing lunged, he swung wildly, striking it across the head. It screeched — a horrible, wet sound — and the System reacted instantly.
[Combat Detected.]
[Skill Protocol: Instinctive Adaptation Active.]
The creature lunged again. He dodged, barely. Something in his arm clicked, the flesh rippling — and suddenly claws burst from his fingers, bone blades growing from his wrist. He didn't think, didn't hesitate — he slashed.
The creature fell apart in two pieces.
A glowing notification hovered in the air.
[You have defeated: Failed Chimera (Lv. 1)]
[Exp Gained: 25]
[Core Assimilation Available.]
He stared at the words, heart pounding with equal parts horror and awe. Then another line appeared:
[Assimilate Core Fragment? Y/N]
His gamer instincts made the decision for him.
"Yes."
Pain flooded his veins like liquid fire. His body seized, the Core inside him absorbing the monster's remains. His vision went white. When it cleared, he felt… different. Stronger.
[New Skill Acquired: Claw Morphogenesis (Basic)]
Eion sank to his knees, breathing hard. The mechanical rasp was gone; his lungs felt clearer. The lab seemed quieter now, almost peaceful, as dust drifted down through a cracked ceiling where faint sunlight filtered in.
He stared at his trembling hands, then at the flickering notification still glowing in the air.
He was alive. He was evolving.
And somewhere, out there, was the one who made him.
A quiet smile tugged at his lips — half fear, half wonder.
"If this is a game," he murmured, "then I'm not starting at level one. I'm starting in hard mode."
The System pulsed, as if acknowledging his words.
[Quest Initiated: Survive the Awakening.]
And thus, the experiment took its first step into the world.