Get to the lab.
The ride felt like an eternity. The AI-assisted auto drive of my car blurred through falling ash, debris, and monster shadows slinking between buildings. I gripped the steering wheel with my left hand, the other side of me bandaged in emergency wrap. My severed arm—preserved in a cryo-box beside me—was the prize I couldn't afford to lose.
The lab's security recognized me immediately, the retinal scan unlocking the main gate before I could blink. As the titanium bulkheads slid open, I stepped into the corridor and breathed in the sterile, electrically charged air.
My sanctuary still stood.
Clean. Intact. Mostly empty.
The long, polished corridor stretched forward into the heart of the research compound. Rows of suspended prototype serums floated in neon cylinders. Robotic arms clicked overhead, wiping glass. The place was cold and quiet, like time had paused here while the world burned outside.
A few loyal scientists had remained behind, running silent maintenance protocols. They glanced up, startled, then immediately returned to work when they saw me.
"Status?" I asked aloud.
KIRA's voice chimed in with perfect calm and sass.
KIRA = Laboratory Integrity: 94%– Power cores: Stable– Internal breaches: None– Auto-cleaners: Swept the damage– Two intrusions detected and eliminated.– Also, one cleaning droid tried to steal a centrifuge. I gave it a stern digital spanking.
I managed a small smirk. "Take the arm to Stabilizer Unit Z-9. Sterilize it and prep for reattachment."
KIRA = Aye-aye, Captain One-Arm.– Flushing necrotic tissue– Injecting anti-decay solution Tetra-V.7654– Spritzing it with fresh mint scent—just because I care.
I marched down the med-wing corridor and entered the surgical bay.
Metal gleamed. Lights scanned. Robotic limbs carried my severed arm like a sacred relic, gently placing it in a stabilization pod filled with blue plasma vapor. The limb rotated in suspension, skin glistening with biogel.
"Open Healing Pod-3."
A heavy cylinder rose from the floor, fluid gushing into its transparent chamber. Silver-blue and laced with microscopic nanobot pulses. It wouldn't regrow a limb—but it could stabilize nerve endings, prepare muscles, accelerate adaptation.
"Set solution at 30% concentration. Don't drown me."
KIRA = Modified:– Liquid calibrated– Microbial killers added.
I removed my boots and climbed inside. The hiss of the chamber closing was oddly soothing.
And finally, for the first time in hours, I let my eyes close—not in defeat, but calculation. The world was cracking. But I was sharpening.
When the pod opened again, the air was warmer, thicker. My head throbbed.
I stepped forward, still half-numb, toward the main surgical slab.
"KIRA," I said quietly but firmly, "Bring me the preserved limb and failed serum—Version 12455."
A pause.
KIRA = Wait, that one? The mega-calorie sludge that liquefied the test rabbit in under ten seconds? Sam, you're not suicidal… are you upgrading to that?
"I'm not suicidal," I said coldly, "I'm sane."
KIRA = You say that, but I still see 'death wish' written all over this. Care to enlighten your loyal AI before you melt yourself?
I sat on the surgical bench, breathing deep, eyes set like steel.
"You were online during the Draco fight. You remember that pressure? That light? The surge that felt… not from Earth?"
KIRA = Yeah, I thought our server room was going to ascend into heaven or something.
"That was the Earth Spirit," I said. "A planetary consciousness. It awakened. It rewrote our biology. It gave us something called a 'System'—a survival interface woven into our genetic code."
I tapped my chest.
"This is no longer about science alone. It's bio-supernatural evolution."
KIRA = …Well crap. Go on.
"That failed serum?" I nodded toward the old vial on the screen. "It didn't kill the rabbit. The rabbit was just too weak. That thing floods the bloodstream with more nutrients than any human could handle—until now."
I looked at my reflection in the chrome wall—sweaty, hollow-eyed, but still alive.
"I'm not a regular human anymore."
KIRA = So… you're a mutant now. Cool. I always knew you'd glow green one day.
I smirked. "I can finally handle it. Version 12455 will push my system into overdrive—rebuild tissue, regrow bone, reconnect nerves, everything. Naturally. No machine surgery."
KIRA = Plot twist: serum wasn't dangerous, we were just pathetic.Bringing it now—arm included. If this fails, I'm deleting your browser history out of mercy.
A silver tray slid from the wall, sterile and steaming.
On it rested my arm—preserved in anti-decay gel—next to a glowing gold vial. It pulsed, alive.
[SERUM V-12455: STATUS - RECLASSIFIED SAFE]
▪ Nutrient Density: 5420%▪ Side Effects: None (Post-System Compatibility Achieved)▪ Function: Accelerated Regenerative Support▪ Notes: Use for System-enhanced hosts only
I braced the limb against my exposed shoulder socket. The nerves flinched like exposed wires. My chest heaved.
"KIRA," I whispered, "Inject it."
KIRA = Aye aye, Broken Captain. Injecting serum now. Godspeed.
The needle stabbed into my neck with a hiss.
And then—
Everything went white.
[BIO-RECONSTRUCTION IN PROGRESS...]
▪ Blood Oxygenation: +210%▪ Protein Synthesis: Active▪ Neural Conduction: 97% Synced▪ Internal Temp: 42.3°C▪ Pain Index: 98% Threshold Breach▪ Muscle Fiber: Generating▪ Bone Calcification: Ongoing▪ Synaptic Mapping: Stabilizing
I clenched my jaw, screaming as fire ripped through me. My bones grew. I could hear them calcifying—webbing outward like burning branches. Blood surged. Muscle wrapped my arm in expanding cords. Every nerve snapped like electrical arcs as they reconnected.
KIRA = Sam, don't pass out! Socket fusion halfway!
The pain was beyond description. Like being rebuilt alive. My hand twitched. Then curled. Then moved.
A shock slammed my spine. I gasped.
My fingers obeyed.
[Regeneration Process: 98% Complete]Warning: Pain Overload Approaching Threshold – Activating Suppression
I slumped back against the pod. My arm—reborn—flexed beneath the pale light. Skin glistening. Muscle twitching. Veins alive with power.
KIRA = Well… congratulations. You now officially have your own arm back.Also, you screamed louder than a jet engine for 7.6 seconds. I recorded it. For science.
I coughed a laugh. "Thanks, KIRA."
KIRA = Anytime. Now can we do something less insane? Like fighting gods or saving Earth?