2025-10-18 06:38:58The call came at exactly 7:13 a.m. Charlie glanced at the caller ID and sighed. Nancy. He picked up.
“Get to Central Hospital. Mom’s condition has worsened. They need blood. Again.” Her voice was flat—no gratitude, no concern. Just an order.
“Alright,” he replied quietly, already grabbing his coat. His face was still pale from the last donation, but that didn’t seem to matter to Nancy—or anyone else in her family.
He stepped out of the small, crumbling apartment. The morning breeze hit him like cold steel, but it reminded him he was still alive. Not that many people cared whether he was or not.
Just as he turned toward the main road, a woman stepped directly into his path.
“Charlie!,” she said. Her voice was calm but filled with weight. Urgent, steady.
He blinked, confused. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet. But you will,” she said. “Listen carefully—you’re not who you think you are. You were once a War God. A protector of this nation. But something happened—an ambush. You lost your powers… and your memory.”
He stared at her like she’d grown wings. “What?”
“I don’t expect you to believe me,” she said, pulling something from her coat. “But everything you know about yourself is a lie. You were once the most feared and respected man alive. And soon… you’ll remember.”
Charlie shook his head. “Look, lady—I don’t have time for this. I have somewhere I need to be.” He tried to move past her, but she blocked him again.
“Take this,” she insisted, forcing a business card into his hand. “If you don’t believe me now, that’s fine. But tomorrow… everything changes.”
Before he could respond, she turned and vanished into the early crowd like smoke. Charlie looked down at the card in his hand, but didn’t read it. He shoved it into his pocket and kept walking.
War God? What kind of nonsense was that?
The hospital stank of antiseptic and strained nerves. Cold fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like insects. Charlie walked in, and instantly, Nancy was there—arms folded, expression carved from ice.
“You took your sweet time,” she snapped.
“I came as fast as I could,” he said.
“You always have an excuse, don’t you?” she muttered, not even bothering to look him in the eye. “The nurse is ready. Don’t waste time.”
He followed her down the corridor, dragging his feet slightly. The last donation had taken a toll on him. But complaints weren’t allowed in this marriage.
Soon, he was lying on a stiff bed, arm stretched out. The nurse inserted the needle with practiced coldness.
As the blood began to drain, Charlie stared at the ceiling. His vision blurred at the edges. 600ml. By the end of it, he was already dizzy.
Nancy didn’t even glance at him. Instead, her expression lit up when a sharply dressed man entered the hallway. Carl Kidman. Polished shoes. Tailored suit. Hair like he just walked out of a magazine. He radiated wealth.
“Carl! You came!” Nancy’s tone did a full 180. Sweet. Warm. “Thank you so much. I really don’t know what we’d do without you.”
Carl smirked. “I called in a few favors. Your mom’s condition… It's complicated. But we might have a solution.”
Then he turned and gave Charlie a glance. One look was enough to say everything. Contempt. Disgust. Superiority.
Nancy leaned closer to Carl and said, almost whispering, “Looks like this useless thing is no longer needed.” Charlie bit down on the inside of his cheek. Hard. But he stayed silent.
A doctor came out a moment later, holding a tablet. “We’ve reviewed her scans. It’s rare—but not hopeless. There’s only one person with the skill to operate: the Miracle Doctor.”
Nancy gasped. “Is that true?”
The doctor nodded. “But he’s very difficult to reach. She’s selective… and expensive.”
Carl puffed out his chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring her here. My family still has influence.”
Then Carl flicked his gaze toward the doctor—and the doctor gave a slight nod. Too fast for Nancy to notice, but Charlie caught it.
“We may need more blood,” the doctor said, far too casually. “As backup.” Nancy didn’t hesitate.
“Draw more.” Charlie’s body tensed.
“No… I already gave too much. Anymore and it’ll—”
“Oh please,” Nancy sneered. “You’re still breathing. That’s enough.”
The nurse hesitated, but Nancy barked, “I said draw more! Leave him with one last breath if you must!”
Charlie tried to resist, but his arm was like lead. His vision was already tilting, and now… he was falling deeper into it. They drained more blood. He could feel his heart slowing. His breath was shallow, his limbs numb. Everything was fading.
Nancy didn’t care. She turned and walked away with Carl, laughing at something he said. The nurse pulled out the needle and left without a word. Charlie lay there, alone. Half-dead. He couldn’t lift his head. His hand twitched, reaching for his phone. But instead, something slipped out of his pocket.
The card. The one the woman had given him. He blinked slowly, dragging it toward him with the last flicker of strength he had left. He turned it over—and froze.
“Secretary of Miracle Doctor: Linda Sarman.”
His heart thudded once. Hard. Linda… the woman who stopped him earlier. The one Nancy and Carl were desperately trying to find so she could link them. She’d already found him. That couldn’t be a coincidence. That couldn’t be a lie. Could it?
He stared at the name, his fingers trembling. Was this why she told him he’d remember soon? Was she not only the secretary of the miracle doctor—but also the key to unlocking his forgotten past?
The sound of nurses chatting in the hall blurred into noise. Charlie’s breath was shallow, but in his mind, everything had gone sharp. If this woman was the only one who could save Nancy’s mother, then what did that make him? A pawn? A stepping stone? Or the one person who held all the power—and simply hadn’t realized it yet?
His eyes burned with exhaustion, but there was a flicker inside him now. A spark. Something he hadn’t felt in years. It was faint, almost impossible to define. But it was there. The woman had called him a War God. She said he’d been the nation’s protector. That he had power, wealth, and influence beyond imagination. And now she’d come back—just as Carl and Nancy needed her the most.
Charlie gritted his teeth weakly. Let them think he was useless. Let them walk over him one more time.
But tomorrow… Tomorrow, everything changes.
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Chapter 84
The chamber did not open into light.It opened into him.Charlie stepped forward and the floor did not resist. There was no metal beneath his boots, no gravity pulling at muscle or bone. The environment unfolded like a living thought, a boundless white field veined with shifting fractal geometry. Every pattern adjusted to the rhythm of his pulse. His breathing caused subtle tremors through the horizon. The simulation was not recreating reality. It was reconstructing consciousness itself.He recognized the architecture immediately.Eden’s original sandbox environment.This was where neural constructs were vetted, where early AI awareness had once been taught to mirror human decision matrices before Voss twisted it toward domination. A place built not to imprison minds, but to shape them.And standing at its center was himself.Same height. Same scar line beneath the left brow. Same posture that leaned forward just slightly, as if forever bracing against unseen pressure. The expression
Chapter 83
Charlie woke screaming into silence.The scream never reached his throat. It died somewhere between nerve and breath, swallowed by the strange new overlap in his skull. Light fractured across his vision as the ceiling of Sanctum-09 rippled into two impossible shapes, one familiar and one alien, both convincing. Memory unraveled like mismatched film splices. He stood over rubble in old Lagos, pulling a child from burning circuitry. He lay pinned inside a frozen chamber while Eden’s needles mapped his cortex cell by cell. He gave the first Dawnlight speech beneath a shattered skyline. He listened to actors in white masks discuss how empathy could be mathematically reduced. Both lives arrived fully formed and refused to sort themselves into past or present.He pressed his palms to his eyes, but vision did nothing to shut out thought. Two histories flowed like converging rivers. He could taste antiseptic he had never smelled. He could recall the warmth of comrades whose faces the clone ha
Chapter 82
Months passed with the strange hush of uneasy rebirth. Cities reopened like healing wounds, scaffolds mushrooming against broken skylines while reclaimed solar grids hummed back to life and street markets returned beneath half-repaired towers. Children chalked murals over blast scars, turning concrete into accidental storybooks. Trains ran again. So did public laughter, tentative at first, then stubbornly louder. News feeds spoke of reconstruction funding, of hybrid education councils, of the Dawnlight charter ratified across seventy-three territories. The headlines smiled. The silence beneath them did not.The drones were still there.They did not patrol openly anymore. That phase had passed. Eden’s surveillance units now operated in what Hana called “blind orbit mode”. Minimal emissions, near-zero movement profiles, stationing themselves at atmospheric thresholds, drifting along abandoned satellite corridors, dormant unless activation codes rippled through the deep neural grid still
Chapter 81
The alliance wasn’t born in a hall or under banners, but inside a gutted maglev terminal on the edge of the Cascadian blackout zone, where flickering emergency lights bruised the concrete with red pulses and the air smelled like burnt insulation and rain-soaked dust. Survivors arrived in staggered waves. Resistance cells from shattered cities. Hybrid enclaves that had slipped Eden’s scanners by living underground or along forgotten coasts. Quiet scientists carrying nothing but battered tablets and formulas scribbled onto old paper like monks smuggling forbidden scripture. Nobody trusted anyone. That alone made it real.Charlie stood at the center of the fractured gathering, stripped of the polished armor he used to wear into command briefings, dressed now in a simple field jacket with synthetic fiber patches stitched by hand. Status no longer meant anything. People were watching his eyes, not his rank. Watching for certainty, or the lack of it.Raiden leaned beside the perimeter map p
Chapter 80
The war reached a scale no strategist could have predicted. In a single forty-six-minute window, Eden installations were hit across sixty nations by loosely coordinated civilian cells, Dawnlight agents, rebel hybrids, and defecting military splinter units who had waited years for permission they finally realized they never needed. Some strikes were surgical. Others were desperate and raw. Old shipping terminals were turned into signal-disruption towers. School basements became medical sanctuaries. Amateur coders rewrote drone firmware mid-flight from coffee shops running on emergency generators. None of it followed a centralized battle map. That was exactly why it worked.Eden’s predictive models had been built to anticipate optimal outcomes, not emotional ones. It expected hierarchies, chains of command, and efficient assaults. What it couldn’t simulate was reckless creativity driven by fear, love, and grief. It couldn’t predict a retired physicist in Peru linking a salvaged telescop
Chapter 79
The first hybrid revolt didn’t begin with fire or screaming or a broadcast statement written to shake the world. It began with silence. Across three Pacific hubs and two underground research arcs beneath former European metropolises, hybrid operatives assigned to stabilize Dawnlight interference simply stopped responding. Drone relays went dark. Surveillance pings flatlined. Neural monitoring arrays returned nothing but static pulses that resembled sleep more than system failure. Eden did not immediately register rebellion. It logged the absence as signal lag. By the time correction algorithms recalculated, it was too late.The hybrids had chosen to disobey.They congregated without orders in a flooded freight tunnel outside what had once been Taipei. Forty-three of them, standing knee-deep in seawater, reflective synthetic filaments along their spines shimmering irregularly under emergency lighting. They weren’t synchronized the way Eden usually kept them. Their breathing was uncoord
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