All Chapters of My Wife Betrayed Me. The System Chose Me : Chapter 41
- Chapter 50
102 chapters
CHAPTER 41
Silence arrived like a delayed verdict this time. Not the abrupt, violent silence Caelan had grown used to, the kind that followed collapse, rupture, or system termination but something slower, heavier. A silence that settled after exhaustion, after endurance had already been proven and discarded.The chamber lights dimmed without warning.No countdown.No alert.No pain.Caelan lay on the cold composite floor, chest rising in shallow, measured breaths. His body no longer trembled. That alone should have terrified him. For weeks—months, maybe longer, time had stopped obeying rules here and pain had been the only constant. Pain meant parameters. Pain meant progress. Pain meant the system was watching.Now there was nothing.He flexed his fingers.They obeyed.Muscle fibers responded without protest. No tearing, no resistance, no backlash. His body felt… complete. Not healed, finished. Like a blade freshly sharpened and sheathed.“That’s it?” he murmured, his voice rough, unused.The s
CHAPTER 42
The first memory arrived without announcement. It arrived the way rot did—quiet, spreading beneath the surface until the structure collapsed from within.Caelan was breathing when it happened. Slow, even breaths, measured in and out, his posture unchanged at the center of the chamber. The silence from before still clung to the air, heavy but tolerable. He had begun to believe dangerously that this phase might be endured through discipline alone.Then the floor vanished.Not physically. His body remained seated, untouched. But the chamber dissolved around him like mist pulled apart by light.He was standing in a narrow corridor that smelled of old fear and disinfectant.Hospital lights flickered overhead.His pulse spiked.“No,” he whispered, before the system could even speak.It did not respond.The memory sharpened.He could feel the weight of his coat on his shoulders, the unfamiliar stiffness of borrowed clothes. He had rushed there straight from work that day, skipping meals, ig
CHAPTER 43
No chime.No warning.No preparation.DIRECTIVE ISSUEDThe words hovered in the air before Caelan, stark and unadorned.He did not move.This was new. In earlier phases, directives had always come wrapped in context, parameters, conditions, consequences. Pain had followed hesitation like a shadow. Obedience had been instinctual, reflexive, conditioned through repetition and punishment.Now there was only the word.DIRECTIVE.“What directive?” Caelan asked calmly.The system did not answer.The chamber shifted.Not violently—subtly. The floor sloped downward, guiding his line of sight toward a recessed platform at the far end of the room. Upon it stood a single object: a pedestal, waist-high, its surface matte black.And resting atop it—A blade.Unremarkable in design. No ornamentation. No visible energy field. Just metal, clean and balanced, its edge catching the ambient light.Caelan stood.Every instinct screamed weapon. Every lesson from the trials whispered compliance. Objects we
CHAPTER 44
The chamber did not dissolve this time. Instead, it expanded. Walls pulling back, ceiling lifting, space unfolding into something vast and cathedral-like. The air grew heavier, charged with expectation. Light filtered down in vertical shafts, illuminating a circular dais at the center.Caelan stood upon it, alone.Then the figures appeared.They did not manifest all at once. One emerged first, solidifying from light and shadow—a tall man in judicial robes, posture rigid, expression carved from stone. His eyes glowed faintly, not with malice, but with certainty.“Subject,” the man said. “Kneel.”The word carried weight. Not physical pressure—authority. It pressed against Caelan’s mind, nudging reflexes formed long before the system, before the trials. The instinct to comply with figures who spoke in absolutes.Caelan remained standing.A second figure formed to his left.A woman this time, clad in pristine military regalia. Medals adorned her chest. Her gaze was sharp, assessing, calcu
CHAPTER 45
The consequence came without spectacle.No collapsing walls.No surging enemies.No visible threat.Caelan had barely straightened from the authority simulation when the chamber dimmed into a dull, colorless gray. Sound flattened. Depth perception warped. The world felt… thinner.Then the system spoke not aloud, but directly into his nervous system.DIRECTIVE ISSUEDA single word followed.NOCaelan stiffened.It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even an instruction.It was a prohibition.Every system he had faced before told him what to do. This one told him what he was forbidden from doing without specifying what that was.“What is prohibited?” he asked.Silence.The pressure returned, not as pain, but as resistance. When he shifted his weight, the air pushed back. When he lifted his arm, it felt as though he were moving through water.The system wasn’t restraining him.It was denying permission.Caelan tested the boundary. He took a step forward.A sharp neural spike tore through his spi
CHAPTER 46
Darkness was not the punishment.Darkness was familiar. He had trained in it, bled in it, endured it until his other senses sharpened enough to replace sight. Pain, pressure, sensory deprivation. These were tools the system wielded openly.This was different.The darkness stayed.No countdown.No ambient hum.No environmental feedback.Even the faint, ever-present vibration of the system, something he’d never consciously noticed until now was gone. It was as if the architecture itself had stepped back.Caelan stood motionless, breath slow, posture relaxed but ready. His enhanced senses searched for stimulus: air displacement, temperature gradients, electromagnetic distortion.Nothing.Not absence—neutrality.He took a step.The floor accepted his weight without reaction. No resistance. No feedback. Another step. Still nothing.“System,” he said calmly.Silence.He tried again, louder. “Isolation protocol acknowledged.”Nothing answered.Time stretched.At first, he counted breaths. Th
CHAPTER 47
The system does not attack him this time.That is how he knows it has changed tactics.The chamber stabilizes—No heat spikes, no distortion, no sensory assault. Gravity settles into something almost gentle. The air clears. Even the faint hum that once vibrated in his bones recedes until silence becomes complete.It is wrong.Silence has never been neutral here.He stands at the center of the platform, muscles coiled, breath slow, waiting for pain that does not arrive. The absence presses harder than any prior stimulus. His body remains primed for violence, but nothing answers the readiness.Then the floor beneath his feet fractures, not physically, but symbolically.Lines of light split outward in geometric precision, forming concentric decision fields. Each segment pulses at a different frequency, like heartbeats competing for dominance. The chamber is no longer a crucible.It is a junction.Trial classification updated.Will integrity assessment initiated.A figure resolves at the
CHAPTER 48
For the first time since activation, silence stretches longer than protocol allows. No prompts. No countdown. No corrective force snapping his body into compliance.Just stillness.He remains standing between the illuminated paths, muscles trembling not from strain this time, but from uncertainty. The arena hums faintly beneath his feet, the same low vibration that has accompanied every trial so far, yet now it feels… hesitant.As if the structure itself is waiting.A translucent panel finally materializes in the air before him. Unlike prior interfaces, it is not edged in red or white. Its borders blur, constantly reforming, as though the system has not yet decided what shape this decision should take.[UNEXPECTED BEHAVIOR DETECTED]The words flicker.[SUBJECT HAS DECLINED ALL RECOMMENDED PATHS]His heart beats once. Strong. Even.He exhales slowly, the breath fogging faintly in the chilled air.“I’m still standing,” he says aloud, unsure why he bothers speaking. “That should count fo
CHAPTER 49
Crossing the threshold does not trigger impact.There is no surge of force, no pain spike, no immediate recalibration. His body does not brace because nothing assaults it.Instead, the world goes quiet.The corridor beyond the unmarked passage is narrow and dim, its walls composed of layered translucence, like stacked sheets of glass infused with data. Each step forward causes the layers to ripple, not outward but inward—folding toward him, collapsing probability around his presence.This is not a test of strength.It is a test of direction.The system’s interface does not manifest ahead of him this time. It appears behind, hovering at shoulder height, as though observing rather than instructing.[THRESHOLD OF INTENT INITIATED]The words remain fixed, unaccompanied by explanation.He keeps walking.The corridor stretches without obvious end, but the floor responds to his pace, compressing distance the way dreams do—progress measured not in meters, but in commitment. With each step, fr
CHAPTER 50
The chamber does not finish assembling all at once.It grows around him in deliberate stages, each segment locking into place with a low harmonic resonance that vibrates through bone and marrow. Pillars of pale structure rise from nothing, suspending themselves without visible support. Channels of light carve precise geometries across the floor, intersecting at points that feel less like coordinates and more like decisions made permanent.This is not an arena.It is a framework.The system’s interface retracts slightly, no longer dominating his vision. For the first time, it positions itself at a respectful distance—present, but no longer imposing.[WILL ASCENSION PHASE INITIATED]His body reacts before thought catches up.Muscle tension redistributes. Breath deepens without conscious command. The lingering ache from prior trials does not disappear, but it reorganizes pain no longer an obstacle, no longer a warning, but a data stream folded into awareness.He is not healing.He is sta