ONYXSPIRE: THE DESCENT OF CLIVE COLLINS

Chapter 05. Synchronization, When Pain Becomes Real

“AAAAAAAGHHH! GET IT OFF! GET THIS THING OUT OF MY BODY!”

Minutes later, Clive Collins writhed across the snow, screaming in agony like a fish thrown onto burning coals. His new left arm, a pulsing mass of black muscle, was suffering catastrophic biological malfunction. Thick dark-purple fluid seeped from its pores, hissing the instant it touched the frozen snow.

This was not just a wound.

It was a civil war at the cellular level.

[Warning: Acute Tissue Rejection Detected!]

[Subject Immune System is attacking Lycus cells. Lycus cells are retaliating by consuming the subject’s white blood cells.]

[WREN: Clive, stop thrashing. You are accelerating the tearing of your own tendons. Current synchronization rate is 8.4%.]

“YOU... YOU THINK I CAN STAY STILL... WHEN IT FEELS LIKE MY ARM’S BEING FED INTO A MEAT GRINDER?!” Clive screamed, veins bulging from his neck.

The black arm suddenly extended, then snapped back violently. New bones made of a carbon-like black material pushed outward from the skin around Clive’s shoulder, forcing themselves through fresh flesh. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the ozone stench of WREN’s energy, creating a thick aroma of death at the bottom of The Maw.

"Silence... Vessel... Silence..."

Lycus whispered, though the voice did not reach Clive through his ears. It felt like thousands of burning ants crawling through his brain.

"Your flesh... Weak... I... Improve..."

“Don’t need... improving... asshole!” Clive coughed violently, spewing thick black fluid onto the snow. He could feel his nerves being yanked apart and reconnected one by one into the energy core of Lycus embedded in his shoulder.

Every completed connection sent flashes of crimson light exploding across his vision. He could see the structure of his own body as a flickering digital schematic glowing red.

[Neural Reconstruction Process: 45%...]

[Subject Body Temperature: 40.5°C. Brain Damage Risk Detected.]

[WREN: Initiating Emergency Cooling Protocol. Redirecting remaining energy to suppress central nervous system activity.]

Suddenly, the burning heat vanished and was replaced by murderous cold.

For several seconds, Clive felt as if his heart had stopped beating entirely. His body locked up, eyes wide as he stared at the gray sky far above the abyss.

The world slowed around him.

He could hear the heartbeat of burrowing rats beneath the snow. He could hear the ropes scraping against stone as the Radiant Guard descended from above.

Worst of all, he could feel every inch of the black arm.

It was no longer something foreign.

It was part of him.

But it carried a will of its own.

The arm slowly finished forming. From shoulder to fingertip, it was slightly longer than a normal human arm. Its muscles resembled tightly braided steel cables blackened by soot. Sharp bone protrusions jutted from the elbow like spurs, and the claws... the claws gleamed like polished obsidian.

[Neural Synchronization Complete: 15%.]

[Status: Stable (Temporary).]

[WREN: Congratulations, Clive. You survived initialization without suffering fatal cardiac arrest. Although, technically speaking, approximately 12% of your personality was eroded by the pain.]

Clive gasped for air, his body drenched in sweat that instantly froze in the air of Shadowfell. He lifted his heavy left arm. It felt incredibly powerful.

And incredibly hungry.

The limb trembled as though possessed by an endless thirst.

“Why... why does it still hurt?” Clive whispered hoarsely.

[That is ‘Evolution Fever,’ Clive. Your body is being forced to process neural degradation caused by Lycus’s presence. Until you consume sufficient biomass, this system will continue feeding on your own muscles for nutrients.]

“So if I don’t kill someone... I’m the one who gets eaten?”

[Accurate analysis. Statistics indicate that under current conditions, you will starve to death internally within four hours.]

Clive laughed bitterly.

The sound no longer resembled the laugh of the person he used to be.

He looked toward Kael’s massive axe lying nearby in the snow. He tried reaching for it with his remaining human hand, but his fingers trembled too violently.

Then the black arm moved on its own.

Faster than human eyes could follow, Lycus’s arm snapped forward and seized the axe handle.

KLANG!

Its black claws dug into the metal hard enough to leave deep scratches.

“Easy, Lycus... you almost ruined the axe,” Clive muttered.

"Hungry... Clive... They... Approach..."

Clive turned toward the cliff wall.

Three figures clad in glowing white armor landed in the snow below. They unclipped their safety ropes, plasma spears already ignited in brilliant blue light that sliced through the surrounding fog.

“Look at that,” one soldier muttered through his helmet. “The kid’s still alive. But... what the hell is that on his arm?”

“It’s the parasite! The box broke open and infected him!” another shouted, panic and greed mixing in his voice. “Take him alive! Lord Sheldon will pay a fortune for a naturally infected subject!”

Clive slowly stood.

The white armor he once admired now looked like something begging to be torn apart.

[Targets Detected: 3 Radiant Guard Personnel.]

[Status: Hostile.]

[WREN: Clive, 15% synchronization grants access to ‘Basic Shadow Augmentation.’ Termination is advised within 60 seconds before neural degradation renders you paralyzed.]

“I won’t need sixty seconds,” Clive answered coldly.

He no longer felt the freezing snow.

He no longer felt fear.

All he felt was the constant pulse inside his left arm, demanding to be drenched in fresh blood.

“You want the Silver Box?” Clive raised the axe, his black arm pulsing with faint, horrifying purple light. “The box is gone. All that’s left is the monster you people created yourselves.”

One of the soldiers lunged forward, plasma spear thrusting toward Clive’s chest.

Inside his mind, Clive saw the trajectory before it happened. A stream of combat data projected directly into his optic nerves by WREN.

“Too slow,” Clive hissed.

He did not dodge.

Instead, he raised his black arm and allowed the obsidian claws to meet the blazing plasma spear head-on.

CRRING!

The supposedly invincible weapons of Lumeria cracked apart beneath Clive’s grip.

The soldier’s eyes widened behind his glass visor as he stared at the monstrous arm holding his weapon in place.

“Now... it’s my turn,” Clive said.

And in that moment, he was no longer a porter.

He was a predator.