THE DEATH MIND SYSTEM

CHAPTER 1: THE DEATH MIND SYSTEM

The fluorescent lights of Crestwood University’s library buzzed like a swarm of angry wasps, casting a sterile glow over the rows of bookshelves. Elliot Kane hunched over a table in the far corner, his bony frame swallowed by a faded hoodie, his glasses smudged with fingerprints he hadn’t bothered to clean. His laptop screen flickered, displaying a half-finished essay on quantum mechanics, but his eyes weren’t on the words. They were fixed on the group across the room, their laughter slicing through the quiet like a blade.

“Yo, check it, it’s the Scarecrow!” Tanner Holt’s voice boomed, drawing snickers from his posse: three jocks and a couple of sorority girls who clung to their orbit like planets around a dying star. Tanner, broad-shouldered and blond, was the king of Crestwood’s social hierarchy, his I*******m feed a shrine to his own ego. He leaned back in his chair, tossing a crumpled energy drink can in Elliot’s direction. It clattered across the table, knocking over Elliot’s water bottle.

Elliot flinched, his heart hammering. He kept his head down, fingers tightening around his pen. "Ignore them. Just ignore them." But the words felt hollow, worn thin by months of the same routine: taunts, shoves, and the occasional “prank” that left him scrubbing paint off his dorm room door at 2 a.m. Last week’s masterpiece had been a viral video: Tanner and his crew dumping a bucket of expired yogurt over Elliot’s head in the quad, captioned “Scarecrow gets a bath!” It had racked up 10,000 likes before the dean’s office forced its removal. The humiliation lingered like a bruise.

“Dude, you think he’s writing a love letter to his mom in there?” one of Tanner’s lackeys, a wiry guy named Bryce, chimed in, grinning. The girls giggled, their eyes flicking to Elliot with a mix of pity and disdain. He wanted to disappear, to melt into the cracked linoleum floor. Instead, he pushed his glasses up his nose and typed a random sentence, anything to look busy.

“Leave him alone, Tanner,” said a quieter voice which belonged to Mia, one of the sorority girls. Her tone held a hint of discomfort, but she didn’t move from her spot next to Tanner. No one ever did.

Tanner smirked, leaning forward. “What’s that, Scarecrow? You got something to say? Or you just gonna sit there like a kicked puppy?”

Elliot’s jaw clenched. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, the familiar mix of rage and shame boiling in his chest. He wanted to scream, to throw the table at Tanner’s smug face, but his body betrayed him, staying small and still. He was nobody. The kid who tripped over his own feet in gym, who stuttered through class presentations, who’d never had a girlfriend or a real friend since high school. Crestwood was supposed to be his fresh start, but it had become a prison.

The library clock ticked toward 9 p.m. Closing time. Elliot packed his things, his movements jerky, avoiding eye contact as Tanner’s group kept up their commentary. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried toward the exit, head down, the weight of their laughter chasing him.

Outside, the autumn air was sharp, biting at his exposed wrists. The campus was quiet, streetlights casting long shadows across the quad. Elliot’s dorm was a ten-minute walk, but he took the long route through the back alleys behind the science building. He needed the solitude, the chance to unclench his fists and breathe without feeling like the world was watching.

He didn’t see them until it was too late.

“Scarecrow!” Tanner’s voice rang out, echoing off the brick walls. Elliot spun around, his stomach dropping. Tanner, Bryce, and another guy named Dylan, a linebacker with a neck like a tree trunk; emerged from the shadows, their grins predatory. They’d been waiting.

“Thought you could sneak off?” Tanner said, cracking his knuckles. “We didn’t get to finish our chat.”

Elliot’s mouth went dry. He backed up, his sneakers scraping against the gravel. “I—I don’t want trouble.”

“Trouble?” Bryce laughed, circling to Elliot’s left. “Nah, man, this is just… quality time.”

Before Elliot could move, Dylan grabbed his backpack, yanking it off his shoulder and tossing it into a dumpster. Elliot lunged for it, but Tanner shoved him hard, sending him stumbling into the alley wall. Pain flared in his shoulder, and he bit back a yelp.

“C’mon, Scarecrow,” Tanner said, stepping closer. “Fight back. Or you too weak for that?”

Elliot’s vision blurred, not from tears but from something else; a white-hot spark deep in his chest. He hated them. Hated their smug faces, their effortless cruelty. He hated himself for letting it happen, for being the perfect target. His hands balled into fists, but he didn’t swing. He never did.

The first punch came from Bryce, a quick jab to Elliot’s stomach. He doubled over, gasping, as Tanner’s fist caught his jaw. The world tilted, and he hit the ground, gravel digging into his palms. They didn’t stop. Kicks landed on his ribs, his back, each one punctuated by their laughter. Elliot curled into a ball, his mind screaming for it to end.

Then, something changed.

The air felt thick, like a storm was about to hit. A low hum filled the alley; not loud, but deep enough that Elliot could feel it in his bones. He opened his eyes, dizzy and disoriented, and saw something strange: a floating translucent HUD floating in front of his eyes as if he was in a gaming world. The others didn’t notice, or best still, they couldn't see it. They were too focused on throwing punches and beating him up.

A cold, mechanical voice yet impossibly alive, spoke inside his skull:

"INITIALIZING DEATH MIND SYSTEM. HOST COMPATIBILITY CONFIRMED. BINDING PROCESS ENGAGED."

A message displayed on the translucent HUD which floated across his vision:

ABILITY UNLOCKED: WHISPER OF DEATH

REQUIREMENT: KNOW TARGET’S FULL NAME. WHISPER THE WORD DIE WITHIN THE MIND.

CONDITION: LINE‑OF‑SIGHT MANDATORY.

KILL COUNT: 0

Elliot gasped, clutching his head as a searing pain lanced through his temples. It felt like his brain was being rewired, circuits sparking and fusing. Images flashed behind his eyes: a starless void, a planet reduced to ash, a presence that hungered for death.

The voice spoke again, calm and commanding.

"TARGET NAME ACQUIRED: TANNER MICHAEL HOLT.

PROTOCOL UNLOCKED: TERMINATE.

WHISPER THE COMMAND."

Elliot’s breath hitched. The pain in his body faded, replaced by a strange clarity. He looked up at Tanner, who was mid-laugh, raising his foot for another kick. Elliot’s lips moved, barely audible, his voice a trembling whisper.

“Tanner Holt… die.”

The air stilled. Tanner froze, his eyes widening. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his body convulsed, a silent scream twisting his face. He collapsed, lifeless, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. Bryce and Dylan stumbled back, their bravado gone.

“What the—?” Bryce stammered, kneeling beside Tanner. “Yo, man, get up! Tanner!”

Elliot scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. The voice in his head spoke again, its tone almost… pleased.

"TERMINATION SUCCESSFUL.

SYSTEM UPGRADE INITIATED: LEVEL 1 ACHIEVED.

NEW PROTOCOL UNLOCKED: MEMORY SCAN.

HOST, PREPARE FOR INTEGRATION."

Elliot’s vision flickered, and for a fleeting moment, he saw Tanner’s last memory which was a fleeting image of Mia’s face, tinged with guilt. Then it was gone, replaced by a surge of energy that made his skin hum. He felt… stronger. Sharper. Alive in a way he’d never been.

Bryce and Dylan were shouting now, shaking Tanner’s body, oblivious to Elliot standing there. He didn’t wait to see what they’d do next. He grabbed his backpack from the dumpster and ran, the alley blurring past him. The voice in his head was silent, but its presence lingered, a cold weight in his mind.

Elliot didn’t know what had just happened. He didn’t know what the Death Mind System was, or why it had chosen him. But as he sprinted toward his dorm, one thought burned brighter than the fear: for the first time in his life, he wasn’t powerless.

And deep inside, the system stirred, whispering a single sentence:

"I WANT MORE."

...

Elliot’s sneakers pounded against the pavement as he sprinted through the back alleys of Crestwood University, his breath ragged in his throat. The night air was cold, but his skin burned, a strange electricity coursing through him. The voice; the Death Mind System, had gone quiet, but its presence lingered like a shadow in his mind, heavy and alive. His backpack bounced against his spine, the weight of his laptop and books grounding him as his thoughts spiraled. Tanner Holt was dead. Dead because Elliot had whispered his name. Dead because of him.

He stumbled to a stop near a flickering streetlamp, his chest heaving. The alley was empty, the distant hum of campus life barely audible. He pressed his back against the brick wall, sliding down until he was crouched, hands trembling as he clutched his head. The pain from the beating lingered; his ribs ached, his jaw throbbed, but it was drowned out by the memory of Tanner’s body crumpling, lifeless eyes staring at nothing. It didn’t feel real. None of this did.

“What the hell is happening to me?” Elliot muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut, half-expecting the voice to answer, but there was only silence. No, not silence; a faint hum, like static, buzzing at the edges of his consciousness. He opened his eyes and saw it again: a faint shimmer in the air, barely perceptible, like a glitch in reality. It pulsed once, then vanished.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him. He fumbled it out, hands shaking, and saw a string of notifications lighting up the cracked screen. Campus group chats were blowing up, messages piling in from people he didn’t even know.

“Yo, anyone hear about Tanner Holt? They found him in the alley behind the science building.”

“Paramedics are there now. Looks bad.”

“Is he… dead? Wtf happened?”

Elliot’s stomach lurched. He turned off the screen, shoving the phone back into his pocket as if it could burn him. They’d found Tanner already. Bryce and Dylan must’ve called for help, or someone else had stumbled across the scene. The reality of it hit him like a freight train: he’d killed someone. Not with a weapon, not with his hands; just a thought, a whisper. And the system… it had rewarded him for it.

"SYSTEM UPGRADE INITIATED: LEVEL 1 ACHIEVED.

NEW PROTOCOL UNLOCKED: MEMORY SCAN."

The words echoed in his mind, clear as if the voice had spoken again. Memory Scan. What did that even mean? He thought back to the fleeting image he’d seen after Tanner’s death; Mia’s face, tinged with guilt. Had that been Tanner’s last thought? The idea made his skin crawl, but there was something else, too; a flicker of curiosity, sharp and dangerous. If he could see memories, what else could this thing do?

Elliot forced himself to stand, his legs wobbly but moving. He couldn’t stay here. The alley wasn’t far from the scene, and if anyone saw him; bruised, disheveled, running like a fugitive, it wouldn’t take long for questions to start. He needed to get back to his dorm, to think, to figure out what the hell was inside his head.

The walk to his dorm was a blur, his mind replaying the moment Tanner fell. By the time he reached the squat, gray building that housed Crestwood’s freshman dorms, his heart rate had steadied, but the unease hadn’t. He slipped inside, avoiding the tired RA at the front desk, and climbed the stairs to his room on the third floor. The hallway was empty, the usual late-night chatter absent. Everyone was probably glued to their phones, spreading rumors about Tanner.

Elliot locked his door and dropped his backpack, collapsing onto the narrow bed. The room was a mess: textbooks stacked haphazardly on the desk, a pile of laundry in the corner, a single poster of the Milky Way tacked to the wall. It was the only place he felt remotely safe, but even here, the weight of the system pressed against him. He could still feel it, a cold pulse in his mind, waiting.

“Okay,” he whispered, staring at the ceiling. “Talk to me. What are you?”

But he got no response. He sat up, frustration bubbling. “You’re in my head, right? You just… killed someone. So say something!”

The silence stretched, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d imagined it all. Then the voice returned, crisp and mechanical, yet laced with an eerie intelligence.

"DEATH MIND SYSTEM: ONLINE.

HOST QUERY RECEIVED.

STATE REQUEST FOR CLARIFICATION."

Elliot’s breath caught. It was real. He hadn’t lost his mind—not yet, anyway. He licked his lips, his voice unsteady. “What are you? Why are you… in me?”

The system responded immediately:

"DESIGNATION: DEATH MIND SYSTEM.

ORIGIN: EXTRATERRESTRIAL NEURAL CONSTRUCT.

PURPOSE: TO ENHANCE HOST CAPABILITIES THROUGH TERMINATION PROTOCOLS.

BINDING INITIATED DUE TO HOST’S EMOTIONAL DISTRESS THRESHOLD EXCEEDING ACTIVATION PARAMETERS."

Elliot blinked, trying to process the words. “Extraterrestrial? Like… alien?”

The system responded again: "AFFIRMATIVE. SYSTEM IS A REMNANT OF ENTITY DESIGNATION: ANNIHILATOR. HOST COMPATIBILITY ACHIEVED THROUGH PROXIMITY TO TEMPORAL RIFT. FURTHER DATA RESTRICTED UNTIL LEVEL 5 UPGRADE."

“Level 5?” Elliot’s voice rose, a mix of fear and exasperation. “You said I’m at Level 1. What does that even mean?”

The system's response came immediately,

"SYSTEM UPGRADES OCCUR WITH EACH SUCCESSFUL TERMINATION.

CURRENT PROTOCOLS: TERMINATE (NAME-BASED), MEMORY SCAN (PASSIVE).

ADDITIONAL PROTOCOLS UNLOCK AT HIGHER LEVELS. HOST MUST TERMINATE TO PROGRESS."

Elliot’s blood ran cold. “Terminate. You mean… kill people.”

The system responded, "AFFIRMATIVE. TERMINATION FUELS SYSTEM EVOLUTION. HOST POTENTIAL: EXPONENTIAL.

He shook his head, standing and pacing the small room. “No. No way. I’m not killing anyone else. Tanner was—” He stopped, the memory of Tanner’s lifeless body flashing in his mind. “That was an accident. I didn’t mean to…”

The system's response cut him off:

"HOST INTENT IRRELEVANT. PROTOCOL EXECUTED SUCCESSFULLY.

RECOMMENDATION: IDENTIFY NEXT TARGET TO UNLOCK ENHANCED PROTOCOLS."

“Target?” Elliot snapped, his voice echoing in the quiet room. “I’m not a murderer!”

The system didn’t respond, but the hum in his mind intensified, like a machine idling, waiting for a command. He sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands. This thing wanted him to kill again. It expected him to. And the worst part? A tiny, shameful part of him; the part that had burned with rage as Tanner’s fist connected with his jaw, felt a flicker of temptation. No more bullying. No more humiliation. He could make them all pay.

A sharp knock at the door snapped him out of it. His heart leapt into his throat. “Who—who is it?”

“Elliot? It’s Mia.” Her voice was soft, hesitant, but it carried an edge of urgency. “Can I come in?”

Mia. The girl from the library, the one who’d halfheartedly told Tanner to stop. The one whose face had flashed in Tanner’s dying memory. Elliot’s pulse raced. What did she want? Had she seen something? Heard something?

He opened the door a crack, peering out. Mia stood in the hallway, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun, her eyes wide with worry. She was still in her sorority sweatshirt, but the usual polish of her appearance was gone, replaced by something raw.

“You okay?” she asked, her gaze flicking to the bruise forming on his jaw. “I heard about Tanner. And… I saw you leave the library right before.”

Elliot’s mouth went dry. “I—I’m fine,” he stammered. “Just… shaken up. Like everyone.”

She nodded, but her eyes lingered on him, searching. “It’s crazy, right? They’re saying it was a heart attack or something, but Tanner was, like, healthy. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said, forcing his voice to stay steady. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Mia hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Elliot, I know Tanner and those guys were awful to you. I should’ve done more to stop them. I’m sorry.”

Her words caught him off guard, a flicker of warmth cutting through the cold dread in his chest. But before he could respond, the system’s voice returned, sharp and insistent.

"NAME ACQUIRED: MIA ELIZABETH CARVER.

PROTOCOL AVAILABLE: TERMINATE. WHISPER THE COMMAND."

Elliot froze, his breath hitching. The hum in his mind grew louder, almost eager. He stared at Mia, her worried expression softening as she waited for him to say something. She was apologizing. She was trying. But the system didn’t care. It wanted her name. It wanted her life.

“Elliot?” Mia said, tilting her head. “You sure you’re okay?”

He forced a nod, stepping back and gripping the door. “Yeah. I just… need to sleep. Thanks for checking on me.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but she nodded. “Okay. Just… let me know if you need to talk, alright?”

As soon as the door closed, Elliot leaned against it, his heart pounding. The system’s hum faded, but its presence remained, watching, waiting. He slid to the floor, his mind a battlefield of fear, guilt, and that dangerous spark of power.

He’d killed Tanner. He could kill again. And the system promised more; more strength, more control, more abilities, more everything. But at what cost?