They didn't give me time to prepare.
The summons came less than an hour after Lian Yue left.
The control band on my wrist pulsed sharply—three quick flashes, red edging toward black. My chest tightened the moment I felt it, not from fear, but from the pressure inside me responding like a provoked nerve.
A message appeared in the air before my eyes.
Mandatory evaluation. Immediate compliance required.
No location.
No explanation.
Just an order.
I exhaled slowly and stood. My legs felt steadier than before, but that only made me more careful. Strength here was a liability. Attention was death.
The door slid open on its own.
Two women waited outside.
Both wore simple gray uniforms. No visible weapons. No insignia. But the air around them bent subtly, like heat rising from stone.
Escorts.
I stepped out without speaking.
They didn't look at me. They didn't need to.
We walked.
The corridors beneath the residential sector were narrower, quieter. The walls here weren't polished crystal but dark metal, scarred with old markings that had been scratched out and overwritten again and again. The lights flickered faintly as we passed.
I felt it.
A low pressure crawling along my skin.
Not from the women.
From the place itself.
We entered a circular chamber.
Small. Sealed.
No windows. No doors except the one behind us, which closed the moment I stepped inside.
Five women stood waiting.
Not guards.
Not doctors.
Observers.
They were spaced evenly around the room, each standing before a floating panel of shifting symbols. Their expressions ranged from bored to mildly curious.
One of them—tall, pale, with silver hair tied back tightly—looked directly at me.
"Subject confirmed," she said. "Male civilian. Anomaly-adjacent."
Anomaly.
The word settled heavily in my stomach.
"Begin," another said.
The panels brightened.
The air changed.
I didn't move.
I didn't need to.
The pressure came first—soft, probing. Like fingers brushing against my thoughts, my body, my presence. I kept my breathing slow, shallow, careful.
Stay empty. Stay small.
The pressure increased.
A hum filled the chamber, low and rhythmic. Symbols on the panels began to rotate faster, light intensifying.
My skin prickled.
The thing inside me shifted.
Not awake.
Alert.
I clenched my jaw and focused on the floor, forcing my thoughts to scatter. I remembered the street. The men stepping aside. The kneeling figure on stone.
Weakness is survival.
A flicker of surprise crossed one woman's face.
"Resistance detected," she said.
Another frowned. "No. That's not resistance."
The pressure intensified again—this time sharper, more deliberate. It wasn't meant to hurt. It was meant to measure.
My vision blurred at the edges.
Pain bloomed behind my eyes.
The pressure inside me pushed back.
Not outward.
Upward.
Like something trying to stand.
"No," I whispered under my breath.
The room shuddered.
Just once.
A sharp, violent tremor ran through the floor, rattling the panels. The hum stuttered, then spiked.
All five women stiffened.
"What was that?" one snapped.
"System fluctuation," another said quickly. "Recalibrating."
The symbols glitched.
For half a second, they rearranged themselves into patterns that didn't match the others—angles too sharp, lines too aggressive.
Then they shattered into static.
Silence crashed down.
The pressure vanished.
I staggered, catching myself before my knees hit the floor. My chest burned like I'd inhaled fire. Sweat soaked my back, my hands shaking despite my effort to stay still.
I forced my head up.
All five women were staring at me.
No boredom now.
No curiosity.
Shock.
One of them took a step back.
"That's impossible," she said quietly.
The silver-haired woman didn't move. Her eyes were locked on me, pupils slightly dilated. "He didn't release energy," she said slowly. "The environment reacted first."
Another panel sparked, then went dark completely.
A thin crack split the metal wall behind me, spreading a few inches before stopping, as if restrained by something unseen.
The thing inside me roared.
Not audibly.
Instinctively.
The pressure surged again—this time violent, wild, tearing upward without permission. My heart slammed against my ribs, every beat echoing too loudly.
I saw it then.
Not clearly.
A shape beneath my skin, blazing faintly across my chest. Not a symbol carved by this world, but something older. Cruder. Wrong.
The air screamed.
Not with sound.
With refusal.
The women staggered.
One dropped to a knee, catching herself with a sharp hiss. Another's panel exploded into fragments of light that vanished before hitting the ground.
"Suppress it!" someone shouted.
"I can't—this isn't output!" another yelled back. "It's interference!"
I bit down hard, tasting blood.
Stop.
I forced everything inward, clamping down with sheer will. I didn't guide the pressure. I crushed it. Smothered it. Treated it like a threat instead of power.
The pain was immediate.
White-hot agony tore through my chest, down my spine, into my limbs. My vision went black for a moment, ears ringing.
But the surge stopped.
The room fell still.
Dead still.
The crack in the wall remained.
The lights dimmed, then slowly returned to normal.
I slumped forward slightly, breathing hard, blood dripping from the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away with the back of my hand, forcing myself to stand straight.
No one spoke.
They stared at me like I was something that shouldn't exist.
The silver-haired woman broke the silence.
"This cannot continue," she said quietly.
Another nodded. "If he grows—"
"He won't," a third cut in sharply. "We won't allow it."
The first woman's voice dropped. "You saw the readings. This isn't growth. This is contamination."
Their eyes flicked to me again.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not of what I'd done.
Of what I could do.
The silver-haired woman turned away, tapping her panel. "Seal this report. Level black. No dissemination."
She paused, then added, "Increase surveillance. If this anomaly manifests again—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't need to.
The door slid open behind me.
"Return him," she said.
I walked out without looking back.
My legs felt heavy, my chest still burning, but my mind was clear.
Too clear.
They knew now.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to be afraid.
Back in my room, the door sealed shut. I leaned against it, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. My body trembled as the pain slowly faded, replaced by a deep, aching exhaustion.
The pressure inside me hadn't disappeared.
It had withdrawn.
Watching.
Waiting.
I stared at my hands, still shaking.
This power didn't belong here.
This world didn't have rules to contain it.
And the women who ruled everything—they felt it.
They felt the flaw.
If they discovered the truth, this world would either break—or burn.