[Location: Global Defense Agency Research Complex – Sector 9, Underground Facility]
They told me I was a success story.
I didn't feel like one.
The air in the containment chamber hummed — that sterile buzz that lives between silence and panic. My body was locked down under a web of clamps and cables, the faint glow under my skin flickering like a broken circuit.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
The last thing I remembered from my previous life was a car accident — metal, rain, and a crash that shouldn't have left me thinking. Then nothing. Just an endless dark.
When I woke again, I wasn't in a hospital. I was younger, maybe seventeen, and surrounded by men in white coats studying monitors full of data that didn't belong in any physics paper I'd ever read.
They called me Subject T-07.
They called this place Project Continuum.
[Observation Deck – Above the Chamber]
"Quantum charge density rising beyond predicted variance."
"He's adapting faster than model projection. Increase the field by four percent."
The voices above me were calm — professional — but I could hear the edge of fear. They didn't understand what they'd made.
They weren't just testing energy. They were testing me.
The power they injected didn't just sit inside me. It moved. It evolved. Every day, it rewrote a little more of who I was.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw veins lit like neon wires.
A human-shaped reactor.
I used to joke — in my old life — that I'd sell my soul to understand quantum mechanics.
Looks like someone took me up on that.
[Containment Chamber – Moments Later]
Something snapped.
Alarms screamed.
The energy in my bloodstream surged from a pulse to a roar. My thoughts disintegrated under the noise.
"Field breach in progress! Shut it down—"
"We can't, it's feeding back into the generator!"
The light turned white.
Every atom felt like it was being stretched across infinity.
And then — silence.
[Interdimensional Transition – Unknown Location]
Falling.
Not through air — through reality.
The world folded like origami made of glass. Time flickered. Gravity reversed, inverted, forgot how to exist.
It wasn't teleportation. It was disassembly.
The glow under my skin went nova.
For a second, I thought I saw entire worlds overlapping — reflections of what could be, collapsing into one point.
Then everything shattered.