ONYXSPIRE: THE DESCENT OF CLIVE COLLINS

Chapter 07. Wren, the Sovereign Protocol

The flames consuming the remains of Kael’s body slowly dwindled, leaving behind black ash that danced in the wind at the bottom of the ravine. Clive Collins stood motionless before it. His gaunt face was streaked with drying blood that had already begun turning dark, creating horrifying patterns beneath the dim light of Shadowfell.

His left arm, the monster that had become part of his anatomy, pulsed softly. The small eye on the back of his hand blinked, as if savoring the warmth of the fire that had just erased the last proof of Clive’s humanity.

“Satisfied, huh?” Clive whispered to his own arm. His voice cracked, sounding more like a growl than human speech.

[Analyzing Subject Psychological Condition...]

[Status: Acute Trauma, Emotional Instability, and Neural Exhaustion.]

[WREN: Clive, if you wish to remain alive long enough to achieve the revenge you were muttering about earlier, it is recommended that you stop this unproductive internal monologue. Your unstable heartbeat is wasting 3% of Lycus’s energy reserves.]

“You... you really are just a damn machine, aren’t you?” Clive hissed, glaring at the old metal bracelet on his right wrist, WREN’s vessel. “Kael just died. I just butchered people. And all you care about is statistics?”

[Affirmative. I am the WREN system: Weaponized Resource-Efficiency Network. My purpose is to ensure that the Vessel, meaning you, remains operational at peak efficiency. Emotions are biological residue that only hinders combat effectiveness.]

Clive laughed bitterly, the laugh ending in a cough of black blood. He collapsed to his knees, clutching at the burning pain in his chest. “Vessel? You keep calling me that. What the hell am I supposed to be? Why did that Silver Box choose me?”

[Limited Data Access...]

[Opening Protocol: The Sovereign (Basic Version).]

Suddenly, Clive’s vision faded.

The real world around him, the snow, the corpses, the fire, vanished, replaced by a vast and endless virtual darkness. Before him, thousands of glowing neon-blue lines of code streamed downward like waterfalls of information. At the center stood a gigantic silhouette resembling an ancient emperor seated upon a throne of bones, yet its body was woven from cables and black muscle identical to Clive’s mutated arm.

[WREN: You are the vessel for the ‘Lost Sovereignty.’ Lycus is not merely a parasite. It is the remnants of the biomass of an entity that once ruled the underworld before Lumeria built their false paradise above it. You were not chosen by the box, Clive. You were chosen by your suffering.]

“Suffering?” Clive stepped toward the silhouette, but his hand passed straight through the hologram.

[WREN: Only individuals with chronic neural suffering and an abnormal will to survive can endure Lycus synchronization without descending into instant madness. You were a porter, Clive. You were accustomed to carrying burdens that killed other people. That was your primary qualification.]

WREN’s voice deepened now, echoing throughout Clive’s consciousness.

[The WREN system functions as a bridge. Without me, Lycus would consume you from within. Without Lycus, you are merely trash that would die beneath the boots of the Radiant Guard. Together, we are the Sovereign Protocol.]

The virtual world cracked apart.

Clive jolted back into reality at the bottom of the ravine. An overwhelming hunger slammed into his gut, sharper than any blade. His stomach twisted violently, as if his organs were trying to devour one another.

“Hungry...” Clive muttered, his eyes losing focus. “WREN... it hurts so damn much...”

[Warning: Bio-Energy Levels Below 10%.]

[Instruction: Immediate Mass Recovery Required.]

Clive turned toward the corpse of the Radiant Guard sergeant still lying nearby. The white armor had been shattered across the chest, exposing a gaping wound and organs that were still warm despite Shadowfell’s freezing temperatures.

“No... I’m not doing that.” Clive crawled backward, digging his fingers into the snow until his nails split and bled. “I’m not a cannibal! I’m not a monster!”

[WREN: Your logic is flawed. You are not consuming a human. You are absorbing nutrients to maintain the functionality of this biological weapon. If you refuse, Lycus will enter the ‘Famine Drive’ phase. It will begin digesting your lungs and heart to sustain itself.]

"Clive... Fragrant... Sweet... Give... Him... To me..." Lycus whispered seductively, almost like a mother coaxing a child.

Clive’s left arm moved on its own.

Its black fingers elongated and crawled across the snow like the legs of a predatory spider toward the sergeant’s corpse. Clive tried to restrain it with his human hand, dragging his own body backward in a pathetic struggle.

“Stop! Lycus, stop!”

But the hunger overwhelmed everything.

The moment Lycus’s fingers touched the sergeant’s lifeless heart, a horrifying wave of pleasure surged through Clive’s nervous system. It felt like an addict receiving a long-denied dose after agonizing withdrawal.

Clive lost control.

In the darkness at the bottom of the ravine, the young man bent over his enemy’s corpse. His black arm moved with surgical precision, tearing through tissue and sucking the essence of life directly from the organs. Wet squelching sounds echoed between the silent stone walls.

Clive did not chew with his mouth.

The arm did.

Every time Lycus absorbed biological mass, Clive could feel his strength returning. The wounds covering his body, the broken ribs, the cuts across his face, began closing at an impossible speed. His skin, pale from hypothermia, regained its color.

After several minutes, the feast ended.

All that remained of the sergeant was an empty shell of armor and gray dust. Lycus had absorbed everything down to the molecular level.

Clive collapsed backward, breathing heavily. He stared at his now-clean palm, yet his soul felt unbearably filthy. He had just “eaten” a human being to stay alive.

“I... I really became one of you,” Clive whispered hollowly. No tears remained. It was as though they had evaporated along with his humanity.

[Recovery Complete. Lycus Energy: 45%.]

[Neural Integration: 22%.]

[WREN: Evaluation: The subject has accepted biological reality. This is significant progress. Now, let us discuss the mechanics of ‘Evolution.’]

A transparent interface materialized before Clive’s eyes, displaying an intricate skill tree. There were branches focused on physical strength, shadow manipulation, and regeneration.

[WREN: Every time you consume high-quality biomass, such as soldiers possessing magical energy or forest monsters, you will gain evolution points. You are no longer a porter carrying other people’s packages, Clive. You are now the porter of your own evolution.]

Clive slowly rose to his feet. He picked up Kael’s massive axe, which now felt as light as a feather in his hands. He stared toward the path leading deeper into Onyxspire. The fog ahead remained thick, and he knew thousands of Radiant Guards were probably searching for him already.

“WREN, tell me something,” Clive said as he began walking. “How many people do I need to ‘eat’ before I can kill Benedict Archibald?”

[WREN: That depends on the quality of the targets. However, statistically speaking, if you reach the heart of Onyxspire and absorb the ‘Dragon Essence’ stored within Sheldon Mallory’s laboratory, your probability of success will increase to 60%.]

“Only sixty percent?” Clive snorted. He spat to the side, saliva now dark in color. “Good enough for me. Let’s move. The faster I get there, the faster I can stop being a monster... or the faster I can destroy the world that turned me into one.”

[WREN: Establishing Optimal Route. Avoiding primary patrols. We will proceed through ‘The Gutter,’ the waste channel of Onyxspire.]

Clive Collins stepped deeper into the thickening fog.

Behind him remained only empty armor and the cooling ashes of a dying fire.

The Porter no longer carried the Silver Box.

Now, he carried the apocalypse within his own veins.