Helmo writhed in agony as his body temperature soared higher and higher. His father, watching from the sidelines, felt every ounce of his son's torment as if it were his own.
Inside Helmo's frame, the spheres within one of the veins suddenly vanished. The vein expanded with violent speed, then snapped like a taut violin string, releasing a sweet, resonating chime:
*Thrummm.*
Helmo's first cord had broken. A psychic wave crashed against his brain; he felt a momentary spike of pain, but it quickly subsided, taking with it the deep ache that had haunted him since the inoculation.
Silence finally fell over Helmo. He opened his eyes, though his vision swirled with dizziness.
"Helmo!" Haim called out, rushing to his son's side. The father knelt, drenched in sweat as if he had been the one enduring the trial. "Helmo, are you alright?" he asked, his voice trembling with dread.
Helmo did not respond immediately; his mind was a fractured mosaic of thoughts at that moment.
"Do not fret," Yuray interjected. "The pain has vanished. He will regain his senses shortly."
Before long, Helmo's vision began to clear. Guided by his father's hand, he attempted to stand, but his knees buckled, and he slumped back down, still reeling from the vertigo.
Haim called his name again.
A strained, fragmented voice escaped Helmo's lips: "I... I am fine... do not worry."
Haim brushed the dust from his son's clothes and hair. "You will be fine, my boy."
Yousafer whispered while keeping his eyes fixed on the elder, "Do you have any other volunteers?"
The old man pondered for a moment. "I do not know if anyone else would seek to become possessed. The benefits are grand, but the consequences are enough to make any soul recoil."
"I want to do it..." a young boy's voice rose from behind the elder.
It was one of the orphans whose family had perished, the same child who had run to fetch Helmo and his father earlier.
The elder turned around. "You are still but a child, my boy."
The boy replied, "Grandfather, I do not wish to lose anything else. I want to become strong."
It was as though these words were not uttered by a mere child, but forged by the spirit of a seasoned man.
"Me too," another child stepped forward.
The elder was struck with shock, while Yousafer and Yuray shared a knowing smile. Haim looked at the two youngsters and recognized the same fire that had consumed his son's gaze only moments ago.
Yousafer asked, "What is your decision, old man?"
The elder hesitated, beads of sweat forming on his brow. It was unwise to rush such matters; the children were barely ten years old.
Yuray broke the silence. "Elder, I was younger than them when I was inoculated with the Germ."
Yousafer added, "And I was even younger; I cannot even recall the day it happened."
Despite their words, the elder remained conflicted. He felt a heavy responsibility for them, and if harm befell them, his conscience would plague him until his dying breath. Yet, looking at their determined faces, he realized they were unshakable. He also remembered his own mortality; if he were to pass away, they would be left defenseless.
The elder nodded slowly, choosing to grant them a chance at a better life. The two boys approached Yousafer, took the remaining needles, and followed Helmo's lead.
After some time had passed, Helmo stood firmly on his feet. A triumphant smile played on his lips as he gazed at Yousafer and Yuray.
"At last, I have entered the world you inhabit."
A faint smile appeared on the faces of the two companions. Yousafer's expression shifted into something peculiar—a mix of arrogance and grandeur. His lips curled upward, his eyebrows arched high, and his eyes widened with a wild light. He set the box on the ground, raised his hands toward the two in a sweeping gesture, and proclaimed:
"Welcome to the world of madness."
Helmo let out a low, staggering chuckle, leaning on Haim for support. "One day," Helmo said, "I will stand beside you both. You must not die until that time comes."
Yousafer tilted his chin up, his dark eyes piercing through the young man with a sharp, mocking intensity. A half-smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he tilted his head back, radiating a sense of absolute superiority.
"No one in this world is capable of killing me... save for myself," he declared.
The group pretended not to notice this display of vanity, especially Yuray, who had long since grown accustomed to it.
Minutes later, the two younger boys stood up, though they were still reeling from the Germ's impact. The elder ushered them into the small tent to rest.
"Regarding the Germs used on the children and Helmo... do you truly believe they are safe?"
Yousafer placed a hand on his chin. "Since those Germs belonged to that old man, they must be formidable."
Yuray concurred. "Yes. That old man is truly an enigma. I remember when he spoke to us; it was as if he possessed all the knowledge in existence. He wouldn't have carried those Germs for no reason."
"Despite his vast knowledge, he hid much from me," Yousafer noted.
The elder asked, "Why didn't he tell you how to ascend from one level to the next?"
Yousafer scoffed, "Where is the fun in that? Even if he wanted to tell us, I wouldn't have cared to listen."
The elder stared at Yousafer in disbelief. "What a fool!" He then turned to Helmo. "Do you feel any change within your body?"
Helmo, leaning on his father's shoulder, replied, "No, nothing. I feel just as I did before becoming..." He paused, the word still foreign on his tongue. "Before becoming possessed. Aside from being able to see the veins whenever I wish and a surge of vitality, there is nothing new."
Yousafer asked, "Helmo, what is your ability?"
Everyone turned toward Helmo, awaiting his answer. He recalled the fragments of memory that had struck his mi
nd moments ago. After a brief pause, he spoke:
"I think my ability is..."
End of Chapter.