2025-12-21 04:41:43Ryker woke up suspended in liquid. Cold pressed against his skin from every direction. Thick. Heavy. It filled his mouth, his nose, his ears. His chest tightened before he understood why—something had been forced between his lips, a tube driven deep, feeding air directly into his lungs. He tried to gasp and couldn’t. Panic flared, sharp and violent, then stalled when his body realized breathing was being handled for him.
When he opened his eyes. Blurred shapes hovered beyond curved glass. White coats. Masks. Hands moving with careful speed. Lights blinked in sterile patterns. Voices existed, but only as vibration, muted and distant, like sound heard through stone.
He turned his head a fraction.
Pain didn’t follow. That was strange. His body felt numb, suspended, unreal.
Scientists stood nearby, watching him like a problem that had finally reacted. Not with concern or relief, but with interest.
One of them noticed his eyes. Everything shifted.
Notes dropped. Screens went dark. Hands pulled away. Someone cursed under their breath. Within seconds the room emptied, footsteps retreating fast, like prey scattering. The lights dimmed in stages. A heavy door slid shut with a soft, sealing sound that felt permanent.
Ryker floated alone.
The liquid pressed closer now, heavier, thicker. His thoughts slowed, slipping out of order. His eyelids dragged downward. He tried to fight it, but the effort felt futile, unimportant.
Darkness took him again.
***
He woke to light. White flooded his vision, clean and sharp, stripping away shadows. He blinked hard, eyes burning. The air felt dry. Cool. Normal. He lay flat on a narrow bed, sheets pulled tight around him. No restraints. No tubes. His body felt weak but whole, like something repaired without care for comfort.
He lifted his head slightly.
The movement cost more than it should have. His muscles trembled, uncertain of themselves.
Then, a voice spoke behind him.
“So. You’re finally awake.”
Ryker turned.
Dr. Victor Clark stood near the far wall, hands clasped behind his back, posture easy. He wore no lab coat. Just a dark suit, perfectly pressed. He looked unchanged. Calm. Untouched. Like the last few days hadn’t happened at all.
Clark smiled faintly, like a man greeting a delayed appointment.
“Good timing,” he said. “I have someone I’d like you to see.”
He tapped a wall panel, and the door slid open.
Catalina walked in.
Ryker’s breath stopped.
She looked… fine. Clean. Healthy. Her hair was pulled back neatly, not the rushed tie she used when she was nervous. Her face held no bruises. No shadows. She wore a pale blue and white dress fitting her body perfectly, like someone had cared how she appeared.
She stopped just inside the room, looked at Ryker once. Then she turned away.
“Father,” she said calmly, stepping toward Dr. Clark. “You said this wouldn’t take long.”
The word landed like a blade.
Ryker tried to speak. His mouth opened. His chest tightened. Nothing came out. His throat burned like it had been scraped raw.
Catalina didn’t look back.
Clark rested a hand on her shoulder. Gentle. Possessive. “It won’t,” he said. “You can go.”
She nodded. Then she left.
The door slid shut behind her.
Silence rushed in, thick and crushing.
“What,” Ryker said finally. His voice sounded wrong. Thin. Strained. “What did she just call you?”
Clark turned to face him. His expression softened, practiced and precise.
“Catalina suffered an accident,” he said. “About a year ago. Severe head trauma. She was brought to us unconscious.”
Ryker shook his head slowly. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” Clark replied. “She lost her memory. All of it.”
Ryker’s fingers curled into the sheets. The fabric tore slightly under his grip. “Then why is she here?”
“Because I saved her,” Clark said. “Or what remained to be saved.”
He stepped closer, stopping beside the bed.
“My technology repaired her body,” Clark continued. “Bone damage. Neural trauma. Internal bleeding. We stabilized everything.”
Ryker stared at him. “You don’t do charity.”
“No,” Clark agreed. “I do outcomes.”
Ryker swallowed. His mouth tasted like metal. “What’s your game?”
Clark studied him, then shook his head almost sadly. “Nothing theatrical. In truth, I believe this is better for her.”
“Better?” Ryker snapped.
“Yes,” Clark said evenly. “Her past was violent. Unstable. Filled with fear. Now she’s safe. Structured. Calm. She believes she was adopted. That I’m her father.”
Ryker laughed once. It came out empty. Broken. “You stole her life.”
“I gave her a new one,” Clark corrected. “Without pain.”
He straightened, the warmth draining from his voice.
“You,” he said, “are something else.”
Clark stepped closer. His eyes sharpened, curiosity cutting through the calm.
“I’ve analyzed your body repeatedly,” he continued. “Your blood. Your cells. Your neural patterns. There is no abnormal mutation. No enhancement markers. Nothing that explains what you did.”
He leaned in.
“Would you mind explaining your power to me?”
Ryker stayed silent.
Clark waited.
“I need to understand it,” he said. “So I can help you if something goes wrong.”
Ryker exhaled slowly through his nose.
“I don’t understand it,” he said at last. “A screen appears. Only I can see it. It gives instructions. Options. Missions. Rewards.”
Clark frowned. “A system?”
“Yes.”
Clark stared at him for a long second.
Then he scoffed quietly.
“…Alright,” he said. “I believe you.”
He turned toward the door.
“One more thing,” Clark added, pausing at the threshold. “By the end of today, you’ll be transferred to Rhozha.”
Ryker looked up sharply.
“They’re losing a war,” Clark continued. “Against the Swottish. The strongest military force on the planet.”
The door slid open.
“You’ll help them win.”
Then, closed behind him.
Ryker lay back against the bed. The ceiling was smooth. White. Featureless. He stared at it until his eyes burned.
Father.
The word echoed in his head, again and again, tearing deeper each time.
A notification flickered into existence.
[System Notice: Emotional Suppression Recommended]
Ryker ignored it.
His jaw clenched. His pulse slowed. Something deep inside him shifted, not violently, but deliberately.
Clark thought he owned the rules.
The system thought it owned Ryker.
Both were wrong.
Ryker Vale closed his eyes.
And waited.
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CHAPTER 7: System Vs Magma
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