Even in the early morning, the restricted research sector within Gentek buzzed with the frantic energy of an overheated factory. A reinforced metal door slid open with a heavy, rhythmic thrum-clack—the dry, mechanical sound of industrial security.
As that single sound echoed through the sterile corridors, the researchers and Blackwatch soldiers moved in synchronized chaos.
Their strides were hurried, their movements jagged and tense, their expressions uniform in their grimness. It was as if the entire facility was buckling under the weight of an invisible countdown.
Yet, amidst this churning disorder, one man remained motionless.
Alex Mercer.
He sat alone at a desk in a corner of the lab.
To the casual observer, he was merely leafing through a report, but his eyes were laced with the vivid, broken capillaries of a man who hadn't slept in days.
And yet, despite the exhaustion... his gaze burned with an unnatural light. With a face that had long forgotten the concept of fatigue, he read the document again, and then again.
[10:00 AM, Initiation of Test M-01.]
When the notification chimed over the internal Gentek intercom, the research zone erupted in a low-frequency panic. Someone gasped; someone else's face twisted into an overt scowl.
"Are we... are we actually doing this?"
"It's insanity. It's like striking a match over a pile of high explosives."
A few researchers huddled together, their voices trembling as they exchanged fearful glances.
It wasn't a conversation so much as a collective spill of raw anxiety.
"He's just a child. He can barely walk... and they're going to apply that level of stimulus?"
"And if he loses control? We'll be wiped out before we can even reach the airlocks!"
"Then we find a way to stop it! That's the entire point of the project!"
Voices rose, sharp and desperate. One researcher was visibly shaking, unable to form another sentence.
The Blackwatch soldiers accompanying them ignored the display, letting out short, rhythmic sighs of boredom behind their ballistic masks.
"That's enough. Save the whining for your memoirs and keep moving, Doctors," one soldier barked with callous indifference.
"We aren't here to play therapist."
But at the eye of this storm, the one maintaining a calm that bordered on pathological was Alex Mercer.
He snapped the report shut with a sharp thwack. Then, a microscopic smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, invisible to anyone not looking for it.
"Finally... it begins."
The mutter was too faint to be caught.
Mercer forced his weary body upright, his eyes clouded with a volatile cocktail of scientific curiosity and predatory greed—the look of a child who had just been handed a brand-new, lethal toy.
*
Morning in the Gentek containment cells began like any other.
Except... the density of the air was different. A thick, viscous tension hung in the hallway. It wasn't the scent of the virus or the metallic tang of blood yet—it was something else.
The specific atmospheric hum humans emit when they are failing to hide their terror.
I sat up on the bed, slowly tuning my senses to the vibrations outside.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The cadence of combat boots hitting the concrete.
There were far more than usual. It sounded as though the entire corridor was paved in tactical gear, the rhythmic stomp of heavy metal grinding against the floor.
"...Loud today, isn't it?"
I rolled my shoulders. The body draped in the hospital gown felt light and small, yet the sensation writhing beneath the surface was as ominous as ever.
Something shifted under my skin—a microscopic twitch of bio-mass.
It was the faint movement of the unidentified viral strain growing inside me. My 'father' and a few of the researchers referred to it as DX-1118 M.
As always, it felt strangely familiar, yet utterly alien—a reminder of 'something yet to wake.'
That was when it happened.
Clack.
The magnetic locks on the containment cell hissed open. Three Blackwatch soldiers marched in. They were outfitted in full Hazmat-rated tactical suits, carrying weaponry several grades higher than the standard security detail.
The lead soldier spoke with the mechanical tone of a man delivering a death warrant.
"Subject M-01. Prepare for transport."
"...Now?"
"That's an order. Move."
Their faces were cold; they had no intention of answering questions, nor did they feel the need to acknowledge me as anything other than hardware. I slowly slipped into my footwear.
"My father isn't coming today?"
The soldier didn't even turn his head.
"The Doctors are already on-site. You're the only one left."
The Doctors.
The plural term sent a cold shiver down my spine. In the air surrounding me, something was fluctuating subtly.
Anxiety... anticipation... and fear?
Now I understood why the researchers couldn't catch their breath.
I exhaled slowly and lifted my head.
"Understood. Lead the way."
With Blackwatch soldiers flanking my front and rear, I stepped out into the hall.
*
The moment I left the cell, the shift in atmosphere became palpable.
Troops were stationed at every junction. Researchers pressed themselves against the walls, whispering, some actively averting their eyes. It didn't matter—I could sense their emotions like a foul odor.
Anxiety.
Loathing.
Dread.
And... twisted expectation.
I walked through that stench of human emotion with measured steps until I reached the end of the hall, where two familiar gazes locked onto me.
One pair belonged to eyes as red as arterial blood. They were gentle, even relaxed, yet belonged to a man whose true thoughts were entirely unreadable. Minazuki Kir.
Beside him was another set of eyes, analyzing me with clinical coldness. Grey-blue, sharp, and radiating a clear, genius-level insanity that he made no effort to hide. Gentek's other rising star.
Alex Mercer.
Both men looked as though they had been waiting for this moment their entire lives.
Kir offered a soft smile. It held the paternal warmth he always showed me, yet there was a dark, brooding shadow behind it.
"You're here, Kiria."
Alex Mercer, conversely, burned with a fervor he didn't care to mask.
"Good. We're all here. Now... now it truly begins."
I stared at the two of them.
Kiria, what exactly is inside you? Mercer's eyes screamed that he was dying to find out.
And Kir's eyes? They said he wasn't prepared to give up anything. They were looking in completely different directions, yet they were hauntingly similar in their obsession.
I spoke quietly.
"...The test, right?"
Mercer's lip curled slightly.
"Yes. The first of many."
Kir looked into my eyes and spoke in a low voice.
"Don't worry. Today... it's a very simple evaluation."
Despite his words, they offered no comfort. I knew better.
Too much preparation.
Too much manpower.
Too much suffocating tension in the air.
This was the moment something was going to move for the 'first' time. And it was going to move in a direction that nobody could predict.
*
As we moved toward the testing zone, the air between Kir and Mercer changed again. Though they walked in the same direction, they were never chasing the same goal.
Kir's face retained that soft, habitual smile, but beneath it lay a suppressed shadow—the mark of a man concealing something heavy.
Mercer, on the other hand, was an open wound of emotion. He looked like a man who existed solely for this heartbeat. His fingertips trembled microscopically; his gaze darted with frantic, manic curiosity.
I walked between them, observing.
It was strange. Both were fixated on the unidentified virus in my marrow, but their vectors were polar opposites—fire and water.
Kir wanted to protect it.
Mercer wanted to dissect it.
Just as the tension between the two reached its breaking point—
A heavy metal door ground open.
The figure that emerged carried an overwhelming, oppressive presence. Outfitted in heavy tactical gear over black fatigues, she had flowing black hair marked by a single, distinct streak of white—a stark, two-tone contrast.
Her face was obscured by a military-grade combat helmet. On her left arm, a mounted grenade launcher hissed with a quiet, mechanical whir of readiness.
A Blackwatch Specialist.
But... something was wrong. The long hair, the silhouette of her chest, the taper of her waist—by every metric, this person was not male.
Based on appearances, this should have been Captain Cross. But the details were skewed.
A woman?
Captain Cross wasn't a woman. In the original *Prototype* game, the Specialist who pushed Alex Mercer to the brink was undeniably a man.
Why? I only changed the settings for the protagonist. I didn't touch the lore for established characters like Cross.
My mind became a tangled mess of confusion. But I had no time to process it.
Kiria watched as the female Specialist stepped closer.
*
Gina Cross.
The moment she appeared, the very air in the corridor seemed to drop below freezing. Even the seasoned soldiers instinctively snapped to attention; the researchers caught their breath.
Gina approached with an expressionless stride and stopped precisely in front of Kiria.
"...M-01."
A beat passed.
Her voice, devoid of emotion, echoed from behind the visor.
"I am your opponent for today's evaluation."
Kiria swallowed hard. It was an instinctive reaction to the raw pressure she exerted. This wasn't someone merely hiding their power; it was someone who could detonate it at any moment.
More than that—she was a 'Living Weapon.'
Gina turned her gaze to Kir.
"Doctor. Are you certain you want to proceed with this test?"
"Absolutely."
Kir's smile remained, but his voice was colder than I had ever heard it.
"The child is resilient. In fact, he adapts faster to this kind of environment."
Gina tilted her head slightly.
"Adaptation... Have you considered the risks involved in an adaptation failure?"
Mercer cut in immediately.
"Risk is the natural tax of research. And he will not fail."
Cross spared a brief, dismissive glance at Mercer before looking back at the boy.
"...Understood."
The tension didn't leave her posture. Gina Cross was the elite of the elite—a human weapon who didn't allow for emotion. The fact that she was questioning the 'safety of a test subject' proved how abnormal this situation truly was.
Kiria watched her in silence.
In that instant, as Cross's gaze swept over me, a jolt like an electrical current surged down my spine. Danger. It wasn't just a child's fear; it was the viral instinct writhing beneath my skin, screaming a warning.
This woman...
She is the strongest human I've encountered so far.
Mercer let out a satisfied, predatory grin.
"Good. That look... that's exactly what I wanted to see, M-01."
I turned to him.
"What do you mean?"
Mercer whispered with a cold, ecstatic joy.
"It means your body is finally starting to react."
Kir furrowed his brow at the comment.
"Mercer. You're rushing things."
"No."
Mercer stopped in his tracks.
"The virus doesn't rush. It just... wakes up naturally."
As he spoke, the grenade launcher on Cross's left arm gave a final mechanical hum.
System ready.
Kiria took a sharp, shallow breath.
There was no escaping it now.
Today, for the first time, the 'thing' inside me would be tested.
*
========================
The website for reading paid chapters is available on my Patreon. The number of chapters on Patreon: 7
Link: patreon.com/UltraMagnus_T