Chapter 6: Proof and Resonance
Richy's grip tightened on the wrench, every muscle in his body locking into place as the mutated raccoon hissed. Its orange eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, its hunched body coiled like a spring.
The cat stood beside him, two tails raised like banners, fur bristling with a faint electric shimmer. Neither of them moved. The dome's faint hum filled the silence, steady and unchanging — like a calm heartbeat before the storm.
Then the raccoon leapt.
Its body blurred midair, claws extended. For a split second, Richy saw nothing but a flash of teeth aimed directly at his throat.
But before the claws reached him—
Something white streaked under the raccoon faster than his eyes could fully track.
*Bam!*
The sound of impact echoed like a drumbeat.
The raccoon's belly was struck from below by the cat, which had vanished and reappeared under it in a single smooth motion. The blow launched the creature skyward, its hiss cutting off abruptly as it twisted midair— and slammed straight into the dome.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the world screamed.
The dome reacted instantly, rippling like disturbed water. A pulse of blue-white energy surged across its surface, swallowing the raccoon's body whole. The creature convulsed, its outline warping violently. Bones cracked like dry twigs, fur shifted colors, extra limbs began to sprout and melt in the same breath.
Its scream was not animal anymore. It was a warped chorus of overlapping sounds, like a dozen broken radios trying to speak at once.
"Holy—" Richy stumbled back, eyes wide. He couldn't look away even if he wanted to.
Within seconds — no, *microseconds* — the raccoon's form became unrecognizable. Its skeleton expanded, then imploded. Its flesh liquefied into a writhing mass, then evaporated into fine particles that were sucked into the dome like mist.
And then — silence.
The dome rippled once more, calm returning as if nothing had happened. The only trace of the creature was a faint black smear where it had impacted the surface.
Richy's breath hitched. His mind raced, piecing everything together like scattered gears clicking into place.
"That… that's what happens when a living organism without adaptation enters," he muttered, half to himself, half to the cat now sitting calmly like nothing happened. "Instant, forced restructuring. Genetic patterns rewritten at a rate the body can't stabilize. It either adapts… or it breaks."
He crouched, eyes fixed on the dome's smooth surface. His earlier theories now had proof — brutal, undeniable proof.
"Energy field… genetic rewriting… constant exposure equals stabilization. That's why you're fine," he said, pointing at the cat, which flicked its tails in response. "You've been absorbing it gradually. But a sudden dose is like… jumping into a nuclear reactor expecting a suntan."
The thought both terrified and fascinated him.
He slowly approached the dome again, stopping just before touching distance. His pulse quickened, not from fear this time — but curiosity. Scientific hunger. The kind that drowned out everything else.
He raised his hand, palm hovering inches from the surface.
The hum grew louder.
And then — his fingers brushed the field.
The world snapped into focus.
A surge of invisible energy shot through his body like a resonating bell. His vision sharpened; colors grew deeper, edges crisper. For a brief moment, it felt like every thought in his head lined up perfectly — no noise, no hesitation, just clarity.
He jerked his hand back instinctively, panting. The contact had lasted less than a second… but something had changed.
He didn't notice his hair shift as he stepped back. Strands of black slowly bled into white, streaks of faint red threading through as if painted by invisible hands. It wasn't dramatic — more like a subtle bloom spreading through dark fabric.
The cat tilted its head at him, golden eyes narrowing with quiet curiosity.
"…You saw that too, huh?" he said, rubbing his arm. "That… felt different."
He chalked it up to lingering energy. A harmless static shock, he told himself. But deep inside, something new stirred — a subtle mental sharpness that hadn't been there before. His thoughts came quicker, cleaner. The tension that usually clouded his decisions felt… lighter. He didn't realize it, but his **mental fortitude had quietly strengthened**, like tempered steel hidden beneath ordinary metal.
He looked back at the dome, expression caught between fear and wonder.
"This isn't just dangerous," he whispered. "It's… transformative."
---
The cat stretched lazily, as if to say *"Told you so."*
Richy gave it a weak smile. "Yeah, yeah. You saved my life back there. Guess I owe you, huh?"
The cat flicked both tails in perfect sync. If he didn't know better, he'd say it looked smug.
He glanced at the black smear on the dome's surface again. The raccoon's death had been grotesque… but invaluable. Now he had evidence, not just wild theories.
He pulled out his notebook again, scribbling frantically.
> *Contact = forced genetic rewriting.*
> *Gradual exposure = adaptive mutation (cat example).*
> *Energy seems to resonate with living matter on a molecular level.*
> *Uncontrolled exposure = death or unstable transformation (raccoon example).*
> *Potential source = unknown. But artificial structure seems likely.*
As he wrote, the sky above the dome shifted faintly. A wave of blue light pulsed across it, disappearing into the horizon.
Richy didn't notice. He was too deep in thought.
He didn't know it yet, but this moment — this quiet touch against the dome — had left a mark. Not on his skin. Not in any way he could see. But inside, something was beginning to resonate.