THE REN UPGRADE: MONSTERS WITHIN

Young Master, The Chosen One

The rumours spread like wildfire across the penitentiary. 

Ren Carter started the fire in cell 304. 

He somehow exempted himself from the damage. 

His skin had undergone some kind of miraculous healing.

No one knew where these rumors stemmed from, and no one could stop them. 

The beastly Thorne charged after Ren to the front of the altar. Inmates jeered. “Finish him!” “Teach him a lesson!” “Get him to tell us his secret!”

Priests called for order. None of it stopped Thorne. He advanced like a bulldog ready to tear his prey apart. 

Meanwhile, a transformation was happening with Ren. The moment his back hit the table, his consciousness was knocked out, and something else took over. 

He rose from the ruins, a changed man. He was no longer the weak intern who let himself get thrown in jail. He was an intimidating man with blazing red eyes, and there was a sharpness to his aura. All that timid energy was gone. 

Everyone watched in awe as he dusted his shirt a second before he dodged Thorne’s fist. 

Someone whistled. “Look at that! How did he dodge that?”

Thorne’s eyes flashed with thunderous rage. He ran his hand through his unruly hair. “Tell me the truth. Did you plan to kill my brother?”

Ren scoffed, and the small crowd gasped. “I have no business with insignificant humans like you. Who the fuck is your brother?”

Whispers echoed across the audience. Who did he think he was to speak like that?

“Is he that pompous?” “I think he's pretty courageous, challenging the Almighty Thorne.”

Thorne was unable to bear the humiliation. 

He reached forward to grab Ren. He thought he had him until the last minute. He never saw the counter-attack coming, never even dreamt of it. 

Ren coiled like a spring and threw his fist into the man's left ribs. SMASH! CRACK! Thorne flew all the way to the chapel doors, crashing into them with a sick impact. THUD!

The whispers intensified. “The lad must have lost his mind!”

Ren heaved a sigh and dusted his fingers. “I'm too busy for this. I have much more important matters to—”

Thorne rose to his feet with a war cry. His boots struck the floors violently with each leap. “Come at me, you fool! I'll show you why you shouldn't have survived!”

Ren caught him by the collar of his prison wear and flung him at the altar. The hall echoed with gasps of shock.

He ran after Thorne with the speed of light and grabbed him up again. In less than ten seconds, he pummeled his fist into Thorne’s face about a hundred times. THWACK! THWACK!! THWACK!!!

By the time he was done, a shocking silence hung in the air. Then he tossed him down.

Ren looked at his masterpiece and smiled. He took the man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted it. 

Thorne's face was beyond damaged. His cheeks were caved in. Blood spilled from his brows like a fountain. His mouth was coated with his blood and saliva. His head hung at an awkward angle.

“Well, I see why your brother was killed. He's got a weak-ass fellow for a brother.”

Another heartbeat passed, and the silence crashed. Correctional guards poured into the chapel, yelling orders for inmates to go back to their cells. 

Ren laughed uncontrollably at the chaos. He did not struggle when some of the guards grabbed him. Neither did he, when they slammed their batons into his body. His goal was accomplished. These humans would stay off his lane.

His laughter intensified as the few interns that hung around watched him with a new fear in their eyes. Soon, there would be a reckoning. For everyone who ever pushed him to the wall, who ever spat in his face, who treated him like trash. 

They would all have to answer to him.

The baton hit him in the head, and he passed out cold.

***

Ren was bundled into the solitary confinement room that was in the darkest and coldest part of the penitentiary.

When he jerked awake hours later, the only sound that surrounded him in an echo, was the drip drip coming from the leaking roofs and pipes.

He looked around him, terrified. The intimidating aura had left him. He felt a searing hotness in his chest. What was happening to him? Why did it feel like a huge chunk of his memory was missing? What did he do to land in solitary confinement?

His head throbbed with the questions. He knew that something weird was happening to him. Whatever it was remained a mystery.

His patched throat began to itch, and he looked around for water. 

That's when he saw the dried blood on his knuckles. He stared at it in stark confusion, trying to remember how it came about. 

Echoes of footsteps reached him, and he lifted his hand to bang on the door. But the iron clanged and the door flew open.

The warden stood there with the doctor.

Ren eyed them warily. 

The warden was the one who spoke. “There’s someone who would like to meet you, Mr. Carter.”

Ren was ushered into the warden’s office and offered tofu, alongside a cup of warm milk. 

He looked at Zara, wondering what was going on. 

“Eat, please,” Mr. Griffin urged with a tight smile. “The call will come in soon.”

Ren did not touch the tofu. Neither did he touch the milk. He watched the warden, who seemed agitated as he paced about. And the doctor, who sat very calm and observed him just as much. 

Twenty long minutes later, the phone rang. Mr. Griffin jumped. Zara looked away from Ren for the first time. 

Mr. Griffin cleared his throat and hurried towards the telephone. “I'll get it.”

He snatched the receiver. “Hello, Tokyo state penitentiary. Griffin Maui speaking.”

The voice on the other end was direct and stable. “Is the inmate ready?”

“Y-Yes, sir. He's here.”

“Good. Put him on the phone.”

“Shuu, come here lad,” Mr. Griffin beckoned to Ren like he was talking to his pet. 

Ren shuffled to his feet and went over. The warden pressed the telephone into his hand and whispered, “you better behave!” Then he went away. 

Ren hesitated for a moment. Then he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Ren Carter. I have an offer for you. Join my research team and you're a free man. Forever. We'll set you up with a new passport and—”

“Wait, wait.. who's this?”

“Doesn't matter. We’ll meet soon, and you'll know. Are you in or not?”

Ren was put on the spot, stammering. “W-What research team?”

“Listen,” the voice became stern, “a smart kid will grab this offer before it even drops. There are no second chances, lad. ARE YOU IN OR NOT?”

Ren chewed on his lip, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“You should consider the fact that we'll be paying millions of dollars for your illegal release from prison, Mr. Carter. Why would we spend so much if we don't think you're a potential hardcore asset?”

Ren’s lips twisted into a pout. “I don't know what that means.” He heaved a deep sigh and rubbed his neck. “Look, do you really think you can get me out?”

“As we speak, your release papers are ready to be signed. We need you to flag it off, lad.”

Thirty minutes later, Ren had changed into a pair of clean clothes very different from the prison uniform.

It was a clean-cut, neatly pressed tuxedo. Its black was polished and blended with the hazel of his eyes. His hair was permed into a neat style that showed off his carved, captivating features. 

He stood tall and refined as he stepped out the gates.

Inmates protested in the background, flinging stones after him. “This is unfair! He deserves the death sentence!”

A surge of confidence exploded in Ren’s chest. He flicked his middle finger behind him as he was led to the black Maybach by the gates. 

He was about to get in, when two S-class Benz revved into view and circled the Maybach. The regal entrance stole everyone's attention.

Two men dressed in long black overcoats emerged from the car. A calm, yet dangerous aura hung around them as they briskly made their way up. 

“Back up!” Ren’s escort tried to stop them. But they walked right past him.

Ren did not understand why they were coming towards him. His heart almost left his chest when they curtsied before him, necks to their waists. 

“Young Master, it's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Ren staggered back. His jaw dropped open. “Young…Master?”

One of them crossed his arm over his chest pledge-style, and stepped forward. “Yes, master. You're the chosen one.”