Jack stretches out his hand.
Something small crawls from the shadow at his feet—a crab-shaped creature of twisted shell and sinew, its surface pulsing faintly like something alive. The air hums as it moves.
The soldiers stare, unsure whether to shoot or run.
> "Find out what they know," Jack says quietly.
The harvest start to walk cutely to one thr soldiers as it crawls on the vines to the head of the soldier it starts to open it's mouth and then it shoots a needle like appendage into the skull of the soldier and then the needle went back into the crab and it turns into the mouth then the solders start to scream begging for their life as the crab takes their life and their memories
And the harvest crawls back to Jake
Jake: tell me what they know
The Harvester's tendrils pulsed once, and a flood of memories crashed into Jack's mind. The world fell away.
He saw the old world—before the Company, before the word "powered" became a curse.
Back then, the gifted lived freely among everyone else. They weren't weapons or legends. They were guardians, healers, builders.
The Classes worked together to keep the planet alive:
Damage Class protected the weak during wars.
Swimmers cleaned oceans and restored balance to tides.
Diggers carved rivers and shaped mountains.
Plants revived forests after fire.
Healers and Support mended the sick and the broken.
Weapons forged living defenses of bone and steel.
Bugs, Parasites, Minions, and Summoners sustained life's strange corners—the hidden parts of nature that humans feared but needed.
They weren't gods. They were caretakers.
Then came the shift.
The moment when humanity realized power could be owned.
Governments grew greedy. Corporations followed. They wanted the gifts without the guardians. So they built the lie—
> "Powers are unstable."
"They're dangerous."
"They'll destroy everything if left unchecked."
And people believed it.
Out of that lie rose GENESIS CORP, the Company that promised safety and order.
But safety had a price.
Jack saw cages. Laboratories. Cities built over buried graves. He saw soldiers dragging children from homes—anyone with a spark, a mutation, a gift. Not just his kind. Everyone.
No matter their age. No matter their class.
They weren't killing them. They were collecting them.
For study. For power. For control.
The memories twisted deeper. Jack saw the island itself—an experiment ground. Hundreds of subjects turned into fuel for the Company's next generation of weapons.
And then… his heart stopped.
Through the storm of visions, he saw a familiar face: his grandfather.
Standing in the distance, alive. Watching.
He wasn't being hunted. He wasn't dying. He was watching Company ships fly away—his expression unreadable.
Jack saw him burn his own house, scatter ashes, and disappear into the woods.
He faked his death.
> "You let them take us," Jack whispered. "You let them make monsters out of us."
The Harvester went still. The memories dimmed, leaving only the sound of Jack's heartbeat.
He stood there, drenched in rain and truth, eyes glowing faintly white.
> "They took everyone," he said quietly.
"Every power. Every soul that made the world worth saving."
Then his tone hardened.
> "If you're still alive, Grandfather… you'll tell me why."
The storm had quieted. Only the crackle of broken trees and the hum of dying energy remained.
Jack stood alone amid the ruin he'd created—scorched ground, torn vines, and silence where once there had been screams. The Harvester lay still beside him, its shell fading into dust.
He looked down at his hands—still glowing faintly from the power that surged through him moments ago. The symbols carved across his skin shimmered like molten scars, reminders of what he had become.
He knew what he had to do.
If he wanted the truth—if he wanted to find his grandfather and destroy the Company from the inside—he'd need to play their game.
> "They think they can cage the Zoo Keeper," he whispered. "Let's see what happens when the beast walks in on his own."
Jack closed his eyes. His body began to shift. The white glow faded. His muscles relaxed. His heartbeat slowed until the world felt heavy again.
The super form dissolved, leaving behind a scarred, human frame—blood, dirt, exhaustion.
He reached up, grabbed a strand of his long silver hair, and ripped it short with a blade made from his own hardened blood. The strands fell around him like ash.
Then he looked at the knife in his hand. His eyes went still. Without hesitation, he drove it into his shoulder—a clean, practiced strike.
Another cut across his arm, deep enough to sell the illusion. Blood mixed with rain, painting his body in truth's disguise.
The jungle around him responded to his pain—his summoned creatures watching silently from the shadows.
> "Go," he whispered.
"Disappear. Every last one of you."
And they obeyed.
The vines withered. The screeching maws dissolved into mist. Even the Harvester turned to dust, its essence retreating into the soil.
Jack stumbled a few steps, the pain and exhaustion finally pulling him under. He let himself fall to the ground, face to the mud, breath slowing.
From above, the moon broke through the clouds, casting pale light over the battlefield. To anyone who would find him, it would look like a war fought to the bitter end—monsters slain, heroes fallen, one survivor barely clinging to life.
Jack exhaled softly, eyes half open.
> "Time to go home," he murmured.
Then his vision faded to black.
The company's retrieval squad arrives at the ruins of the arena — smoke, broken metal, and silence. They find Jack barely breathing among the wreckage. His skin is burned and scarred, the symbols faint but visible. Around him lie traces of battle — claw marks, shattered armor, scorch trails — all suggesting a massive fight.
> "Subject 07 found… signs of extreme resistance," one soldier mutters, scanning the area.
"Where's the others?"
"No readings. Looks like they didn't make it."
They haul Jack onto a stretcher. His vision fades in and out — he hears muffled voices, then darkness.
Later, he wakes up in a sterile lab. Restraints on his arms. Machines beeping.
Dr. Havel stands over him, eyes cold.
> "You survived. Fascinating… Tell me, what did they do to you out there?"
Jack keeps his breathing steady, pretending confusion.
> "They're gone… all of them," he whispers, voice weak.
"You wanted me alive, right? Well… you got me."
The doctor exchanges a look with the others — a mix of triumph and unease. They think they've won. But in Jack's head, there's only one thought:
> They believe it worked. Good.
Now I just have to find out what they're really hiding… before they try to break me again.
Jack woke up again — this time to the hiss of air filters and the soft hum of machinery.
Cold white light pressed down from above. His wrists and ankles were strapped to a table made of reinforced glass. He tried to move, but even breathing made his ribs ache.
Behind the observation window, Dr. Havel and two other researchers stood in silence, watching his vitals flicker across the monitors.
> "He shouldn't even be alive," one whispered.
"Heart stopped twice, both lungs punctured, internal bleeding — and yet here he is."
Havel leaned closer to the glass.
> "No. He's not just alive. He's adapting. Look—his cells are reorganizing at a molecular level. Whatever power he used…it's still working."
Jack's eyes opened a crack. He could barely see them, but he could feel them — their curiosity, their hunger. Every word they said echoed through his foggy mind.
> "Take a tissue sample," Havel ordered. "And run another neural scan. I want to know what kept him fighting when the others fell."
The scientist with trembling hands approached Jack with a needle.
But as the metal touched his skin, the scars along his body began to glow faintly — the same ancient symbols that once marked his transformation. The needle melted. The researcher jumped back.
> "His body's rejecting invasive contact," the assistant stammered.
"No… it's defending itself," Havel murmured, fascinated. "He's not a survivor… he's evolving."
Jack gritted his teeth, holding back a grin despite the pain. They had no idea that part of him was still awake beneath the surface — watching, learning, waiting.
> Keep testing me, he thought. The more you try to understand me… the more I'll understand you.