2026-04-11 15:26:17The cafeteria at Liberty High during second lunch was a manifestation of an audio nightmare. The greasy smell of synthetic pepperoni pizza clashed aggressively with the pungent odor of locker room sweat, creating a suffocating atmosphere. To Raditya, this wasn't just a place to eat anymore; it was a frequency minefield. Ever since that lightning bolt rewired his neural pathways, he felt like a broken radio receiver, picking up every single signal without a way to tune the static out.
He took a deep breath, letting the air fill lungs that now felt much more expansive beneath his tight t-shirt. With his jaw set and his strides intentionally confident, he parted the crowd.
Instantly, the psychic waves began crashing into him like a barrage of push notifications firing off all at once.
Holy crap, is that Raditya? He's walking like he's on a runway!
He used to look like mold on a wall, how did he turn into a literal diamond? I gotta know what kind of black magic he's using.
Oh my god, his glutes... why is his ass so firm all of a sudden?
Raditya snorted softly, doing his best to block out the trashy whispers. He had only one focus right now: Clara. The girl he had watched from afar like a pathetic background character for two years was sitting just a few yards away at the corner booth—the undisputed throne of the school’s social hierarchy.
The moment Raditya stopped right in front of her table, Jessica and Tanya—Clara's loyal disciples—choked on their respective Diet Cokes. Clara slowly looked up from her iPhone, and for the very first time, Raditya saw genuine hesitation, intense curiosity, and a flutter of nerves in those big brown eyes.
"Hey, Clara," Raditya's voice rolled out deep and resonant, startling Jessica so much she accidentally knocked a glob of ranch dressing onto her skirt.
"H-hey... Raditya," Clara replied. She tried her best to maintain her composure as the school's reigning queen, but inside Raditya's head, her "thought-radio" was broadcasting absolute bedlam.
Oh my god, he smells so good up close! Masculine and fresh. God, his lips... why do they look so full and red right now? Did he get fillers? Focus, Clara! Don't look like you're drooling!
"Mind if I sit?" Raditya asked, pointing to the empty chair beside her.
"Sure, go ahead. Nobody's sitting there," Tanya blurted out before Clara even had the chance to open her mouth. Tanya stared at him with a predatory hunger that wasn't hidden in the slightest. In her head, Raditya caught a brief, vulgar thought: I would literally let him straddle me on this cafeteria table right now if he asked.
Raditya ignored Tanya and sat down. But closing that physical distance turned out to be a massive mistake. A three-foot radius was the "red zone" for his powers. The signal from Clara’s brain spiked to full bars, dragging Raditya straight into the vortex of an unexpected, hyper-explicit imagination.
"What's up? It's not like you to come over here," Clara asked, her physical voice a little shaky as her fingers nervously twisted the straw in her iced coffee.
"Just wanted to ask if you've got a group for the AP Gov project next week," Raditya tried to play it cool, but he was already struggling. Clara's spoken words violently contrasted with the hurricane inside her head.
AP Gov? A project? Who gives a crap about a project! Oh god, his shirt... it looks so tight across his chest. What would happen if those buttons popped and that chest spilled out? Clara's mind went entirely feral.
And that was where Raditya's concentration was blown to pieces. The signal from Clara’s brain was no longer just audio; it was a brutal 4D projection flooding his consciousness. Because Clara’s sexual attraction to the "new" Raditya was redlining, the filthy visualization her brain conjured up was piped perfectly into his mind.
Raditya froze. In his mental vision, he was no longer sitting in the cafeteria. He saw himself and Clara in a dark, cramped space—the school's musty basement equipment room. In this mental projection, Clara was behaving like a wild animal. The Clara inside her own mind shoved him hard against the wooden shelving, her small hands greedily grabbing the collar of his shirt and ripping it open until the buttons bounced off the concrete floor.
"Do it... please, Raditya..." the Clara in the fantasy moaned, the sound drawn out and desperate.
In the hallucination, Raditya watched Clara roughly kiss his neck, leaving hot, stinging hickies. He felt his own hands in the fantasy take action. He grabbed her waist, hiking her short skirt up until her thin, lacy underwear was fully exposed. He squeezed her firm ass, making her gasp sharply between their wet, heavy kisses.
Right there at the cafeteria table, Raditya's real hands began to shake. He tried to look away, but the visual only escalated into more extreme territory.
In the projection, they were suddenly stripped bare. He saw Clara's porcelain skin flush crimson under the dim, flickering bulb of the equipment room. He watched as she dropped to her knees in front of him, her trembling hands reaching out to stroke his heavily aroused, rock-hard length. The visual was terrifyingly detailed; she took him into her mouth with an eagerness and skill that looked practiced yet completely driven by lust, her eyes looking up at him with a mix of absolute worship and hunger.
Then, the scene shifted. Clara was leaning back against a metal desk, her legs spread wide. The fantasy version of Raditya entered her with one brutal, unhesitating thrust. He heard the sound of skin slapping skin, a rapid, feral rhythm constructed entirely by Clara's imagination. The Clara in his head screamed wildly, her manicured nails digging deep into his back as they reached a shared, explosive climax.
"Raditya? Are you okay? Why is your face so red?"
Clara’s actual, spoken question yanked him back to reality with a painful, dizzying snap. Raditya gasped for air, his forehead slick with cold sweat. He stared at Clara, but the phantom image of her bare chest bouncing wildly in his vision refused to peel itself off his retinas.
"H-huh? Oh, y-yeah. It's just really hot in here," Raditya stammered. He suddenly felt his jeans becoming excruciatingly tight.
"What were you saying before? AP Gov?" Clara asked, trying to bring the conversation back, even though her own thoughts were still spiraling: Crap, the way he's looking at me... it's like he wants to devour me right here! Can he tell I was just picturing him without his shirt? Ugh, no way, that's impossible.
Raditya looked down at his tray. "I... I think I forgot what I was gonna say."
Good lord, Clara is so damn loud! Why is your head completely filled with p**n, Clara?! Raditya’s internal voice screamed in frustration.
Seeing Raditya look so disoriented and flustered, Jessica, who had been watching the whole exchange, let out a small, mocking laugh. "Are you sick, Rad? Is being a little slow one of the side effects of getting struck by lightning?"
God, this hot nerd, if he keeps looking like that I'm gonna drag him to one of those hourly motels off the interstate, Jessica's internal monologue rang out, proving to be just as much of a mess.
Raditya felt nauseous. His ability to read minds wasn't a cheat code for flirting; it was a curse that forced him to see the filthy, selfish motives of the people he used to idolize. He looked at Clara, desperately searching for some shred of romantic idealism or intellectual depth inside her head, but what he heard only made it worse.
Why is he just staring at his food? Do I smell bad? Is my bra strap showing? Ugh, I should have spent more time on my makeup this morning. But seriously, his chest... I want to know what it feels like to be pinned down by arms that big, Clara’s thoughts echoed relentlessly, drowning out the physical voices of her friends chattering about TikTok trends.
"You... you should probably just get your project sorted out, Clara. I'm gonna head back to class," Raditya said abruptly. He stood up so fast his chair screeched loudly against the linoleum.
"Wait, what? Why the rush? We didn't even finish talking, Rad!" Clara called out, her face falling in genuine disappointment. In her head, a pathetic wave of sadness washed over the lust: Why is he leaving? I was just about to ask him to eat with me. Did I gross him out? Crap, maybe I'm really just not sexy enough for him anymore.
Raditya didn't look back. He practically jogged out of the cafeteria, weaving through the lines of students whose minds were equally noisy, absurd, and exhausting. His head throbbed violently. He realized that Clara's flawless exterior and status did not equal internal peace. Clara was incredibly "loud" in the most torturous way possible.
Once he reached a relatively empty hallway, Raditya leaned his head against the cold cinderblock wall, trying to cool down a brain that felt like it was overheating. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of Clara screaming in ecstasy in that dark equipment room refused to leave.
"Dammit..." Raditya breathed out.
It turned out that getting a handsome face was only step one. The much harder step was trying not to lose his absolute mind when he knew, with 100% certainty, that everyone around him—especially his dream girl—was just an animal constantly plotting out highly creative ways to screw inside their own heads.
Raditya clenched his fists. This "thought-radio" was truly the most intoxicating and infuriating curse he could have ever received. If someone as seemingly perfect as Clara was that corrupted inside, what about the rest of them?
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his still-pulsing "radar." Popularity? He had it now. But peace? It seemed like that had just been stolen by the roaring lust he'd intercepted from the prettiest girl in school.
Raditya steadied himself and started walking again. He still had half the school day left to survive. And there was plenty more insanity waiting for him. One thing was for sure: his life as the hallucinating prince had just begun, and his taste in women was probably going to change drastically now that he had to listen to their painfully honest "internal organs."
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Chapter 71
Anton’s surface thoughts were about the plan, about survival, but beneath that, a treacherous undercurrent. “If this fails, there’s always an option. Argo is too trusting. Darma too lost in his suffering. A signal. Just one, precise signal they promised me money. Enough to disappear. And Raditya… that little brat took everything from Leo. Maybe this time, I can get back a fraction of what’s owed to us.”Raditya froze. Leo. The treacherous chairman of the Paranormal Club, whom Raditya thought had fled the school for good after the destruction. An informant for the Foundation. And now, a remnant of Leo’s network, embedded within Sektor 7, seeking to exploit the failed experiments’ desperation. Anton was his ghost. His planted seed.The memory of Leo's smug face, the way he had manipulated Raditya, his sick commercial ambitions. All rushed back, amplifying Raditya's cold rage. Anton was a mole. A traitor, here to sabotage them, to deliver them to the Foundation, likely for a price from L
Chapter 70
Raditya nodded. He pushed his own mental signal outwards, a controlled, soothing pulse designed to penetrate their damaged shields without overwhelming them further. It was a conscious effort, a precise touch.Darma, the mute man, motioned for them to take seats. Raditya sat next to Bianca, while Argo positioned himself near the entrance, his eyes scanning every shadow, every broken face in the room.Darma stood before his flock, his silent, scarred presence commanding a morbid reverence. He looked at Raditya, and for the first time, Raditya felt a glimmer of genuine interest, a faint, almost curious probing in Darma’s own broken mental sphere. “The Foundation hunts you, young one. Your signature, it vibrates with their destruction.”“They hunt us all,” Raditya transmitted, his response calm, direct. “But now, I hunt them back.”Darma closed his eyes, his head pulsing with a faint blue light that barely cut through the grime of his skin. He spoke then, not with his voice, but with a t
Chapter 69
“Argo, Bianca,” Raditya’s voice was low, a dangerous undertone replacing the last vestiges of his former self. His black eyes held a terrifying calm.“They know where I am. They’ve marked me. That satellite, it’s their final gambit.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage, over Clara’s silent form.A cold, grim certainty settled upon him. “If they want my core frequency, my heart then they’ll have to contend with the storm I can unleash.” He turned his attention back to the stark, silent figure behind the glass. “This facility… it’s a part of it, isn't it? A node.”Argo nodded curtly, already anticipating Raditya's conclusion. "Yes. This is a primary assimilation facility. But more than that, it's a relay point. They funnel subjects here from all over. But the actual data core, it’s still housed in the Central Spire. The nexus of their entire operation.”He glanced at his scanner. “Their network is detecting major fluctuations originating from this wing. We need to leave. Befo
Chapter 68
Raditya’s stomach churned. This was worse than he could have imagined. Not just mind-wiping. This was a horrifying melding of biology and advanced artificial intelligence. Clara was no longer human. She was a cyborg, a data conduit for whatever malicious consciousness the Foundation was pushing.The pristine beauty of her features was a terrifying facade for the digital terror that lay within. He remembered her faint thought before she was taken.“Radit… you always made me feel special” Her last vestige of humanity, a desperate cry for recognition, now buried beneath layers of sterile code. He was tempted to break the glass, to reach for her, to somehow tear the digital phantom from her flesh. But Argo’s hand tightened on his shoulder, a silent warning.“The glass is impenetrable. Direct physical contact is not advised. Its integrity is designed to withstand a small localized detonation. Furthermore,” Argo’s mental voice projected, a pragmatic, chilling observation, physical intervent
Chapter 67
Raditya didn't reply verbally. He couldn't. His throat felt choked with rage and profound sorrow. He could only stare at the towering image of Clara, a ghostly sentinel against the urban sprawl, a living testament to the Foundation's horrifying endgame.This wasn't just about controlling thoughts anymore. It was about owning identity. About making a human being a mere brand. And Raditya knew, with terrifying certainty, that he had to go into that building. Not just for his captured classmates. But for Clara. For all the erased, the repurposed, the forgotten. The fight was personal now. And absolutely merciless.The cold hunt had just become a crusade. And the invisible hunter, with his dark, all-seeing eyes, would ensure that no one forgot. No one would be a last memory ever again.Raditya squeezed through the narrow ventilation shaft, the stale air tasting metallic and cold on his tongue. Each centimeter of progress was a grating symphony of screeching metal against metal, a crude me
Chapter 66
The suited man exited the mall and hailed a cab. Raditya, after a moment’s pause, didn’t. He opted for stealth, knowing his enhanced agility and untraceability were better than any public transport. He wove through back alleys, darted across busy intersections, keeping the taxi in sight using his improved perception. He mentally reached for Bianca.“Any visual support from your end, Bi?”“Pulling up city grid data now. Argo is tapping into public traffic cameras, running overlays on Global Core assets,” Bianca responded. Her comms hummed with efficient urgency.“The man is heading straight for Sector Gamma. Their main research and development complex. It's the largest, most fortified skyscraper downtown.”Raditya adjusted his course, slipping through a pedestrian underpass that smelled of urine and exhaust fumes. The concrete around him glowed faintly with embedded sensor strips, the almost-invisible technology designed to detect kinetic signatures, even foot traffic.But he floated t
