Argg! Rick woke up with a groan. His head felt like it had been cracked open, and his body screamed in protest with every small movement. The taste of iron lingered in his mouth. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light around him. Rubble. Burned ground. Blackened buildings. The scent of death. He exhaled deeply, his lips curling into a tired grin.
"Ahh…" he sighed, "looks like I'm not dead."
"You seem disappointed," the Quill's voice echoed in his mind, carrying that same sharp, detached tone it always had.
Rick chuckled dryly and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not that. I just thought I'd at least go down like a legend, you know? A hero who single-handedly defeated two hundred and twenty monsters at the cost of his own life."
"I don't understand," the Quill said simply. "Isn't it better that you're alive?"
Rick scoffed. "I get it—you're an artifact, so you don't understand human emotions. But listen, if I had died while defeating those beasts, people would remember me as a hero, a symbol, someone who gave everything to save humanity. But now…" He looked up at the ashen sky. "Now I'm a threat. A man who survived what no one else could. People fear what they can't explain. Mark my words—they'll come for me soon enough."
"Are you sure you're not exaggerating a little?" the Quill asked, its voice vibrating faintly in his head.
Rick laughed—a hollow, tired laugh. "Hahahaha… just watch and see."
A rustling sound caught his attention. From the shadows of the destroyed city, a man stepped out cautiously, his hands trembling slightly. His armor was cracked, blood splattered across his face. When his eyes landed on Rick, he immediately dropped to his knees and bowed so low that his forehead touched the ground.
"Your Excellency," the man said, his voice quivering.
Rick frowned, tilting his head. "Ah…" he sighed. "When they said these people were a cult, I thought they were exaggerating."
The man didn't move. He kept trembling, not from reverence—but from fear. Rick could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating. This wasn't admiration. It was terror.
"What do you want?" Rick asked, his tone weary.
"Your Excellency," the man said, still on his knees, "please, the King requests a meeting."
Rick blinked slowly, exhaling through his nose. "Okay. Let's go then."
The man hesitated before standing, bowing several times as he led Rick through the shattered streets. He was so nervous that he kept hitting his head on hanging debris as they moved through the ruins. Rick sighed every time it happened but said nothing.
After several minutes of walking through what was left of the city, they arrived at a massive metal door. The man knocked twice, then once more. "My King, he's here," the man said before quickly stepping aside and retreating out of sight, clearly relieved to get away.
Rick entered the room.
It was surprisingly well-lit, a stark contrast to the destruction outside. At the center stood a tall, athletic man with cropped black hair and eyes sharp enough to slice through steel. He radiated strength, and even from a distance, Rick could feel the faint hum of nanobots coursing through his veins. That distinct signature… he was a survivor.
But what really caught Rick's attention was the faint resonance coming from the man's body. His nano-boots were reacting—synching slightly, like they had found something familiar.
"That's odd," Rick muttered, narrowing his eyes.
The man turned to face him with a measured smile. "Welcome, Your Excellency," he said in a deep, commanding tone.
Rick didn't respond. He just stared at him, something gnawing at his instincts. And then—
"He has a Quill," the Quill's voice suddenly echoed inside Rick's head.
Rick froze. "WHAT?!" he screamed aloud before he could stop himself.
Everyone in the room turned instantly, eyes wide in shock. Murmurs rippled through the air, but Rick didn't care. His gaze was fixed on the man before him. "Do you have a Quill?" he demanded.
The King looked momentarily startled, then nodded slowly. "Ah… so you can sense it. Yes, I do."
He reached into his side holster and pulled out a sleek, metallic weapon. Its surface gleamed with faint blue lines, energy pulsing within it. "This," he said calmly, "is the prototype our scientists created. It's a non-cursed version of the Quill."
Rick stared, stunned. "What…"
"He's not lying," the Quill interjected, its tone serious for once. "That weapon isn't cursed. But it's also nowhere near as powerful as I am."
Rick felt his head spin. "What the hell… so they managed to replicate you?"
"Partially," the Quill replied. "But what they made is incomplete. It lacks the… soul."
Rick ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. His mind was spinning faster than it had in a long time. First, abominations. Then mutated beasts. Now non - cursed Quills?
"My Lord," the King said suddenly, changing the subject with an urgency that made Rick narrow his eyes. "There's something wrong with your body."
Rick raised a brow. "What do you mean wrong?"
The King stepped forward, his expression solemn. "After you collapsed, our scientists examined you while you were unconscious. They found… changes. Deep, biological changes."
Rick's heart skipped. "What kind of changes?"
The King's gaze didn't waver. "All your cells have been altered. Every single one. But that's not all."
Rick frowned. "Go on."
"They also discovered something within your DNA," the King continued. "Something we've never seen before."
Rick's grip tightened on the Quill. "You're not making sense. What did they find?"
The King's next words dropped like a thunderclap.
"My Lord," he said slowly, his voice shaking just slightly, "you have altered genes."
Rick froze. The words echoed in his mind like the toll of a bell.
"Altered… genes?" he repeated.
"Yes," the King said. "Your DNA no longer matches any known human pattern. Whatever happened when you used the Quill against those monsters—it didn't just change your body. It changed what you are."
For the first time in a long while, Rick didn't know what to say. His mind flickered back to the battle—the rush of energy, the burning pain, the way the Quill had fused with him deeper than ever before. He'd felt it, that foreign power invading his veins, rewriting something fundamental.
"Quill," he said slowly, "did you know about this?"
There was silence for a moment. Then the Quill spoke softly, almost hesitant.
"I… suspected. The connection between us grew beyond what I expected. Your body adapted to contain my essence. But adaptation has a price."
Rick's pulse quickened. "And that price is?"
"You are no longer fully human," the Quill said quietly.
Rick's breath hitched. His eyes darkened. "You mean I've turned into a monster?"
"Not yet," the Quill replied. "But you are evolving into something new. Something neither human nor artifact."
The King stepped closer, his tone sharp. "Whatever you are now, Rick Morris, we need to understand it. Because if those abominations return—and they will—you might be the only one capable of stopping them."
Rick looked down at his hands. Faint lines of blue light pulsed beneath his skin—faint, but visible now that he noticed. He clenched his fists slowly.
"Hah," he muttered, forcing a grin. "So I didn't die a hero after all."
The Quill said nothing.
Rick looked up at the King, eyes burning with determination and something darker. "Then let's hope this new me is strong enough to finish what I started."
And deep inside his mind, the Quill whispered with quiet amusement—
"Let's hope humanity survives you first."