Everyone has two sides: the face they show the world, and the side hidden deep within, known only to their own thoughts — their Reath.
The Reath is the whisper behind every decision, every hesitation, every reckless impulse that seems to come from nowhere. It was said to be the purest reflection of a soul — too dangerous to show, too essential to ignore.
Inside a cold, humming laboratory cloaked in secrecy, the organization known as DAB worked tirelessly to uncover it.
"If we can surface the Reath," Dr. Vell murmured, tapping the glass of the observation chamber, "we can reshape society itself."
His voice echoed in the sterile room, drowned only by the mechanical whirring of machines far more cruel than their creators.
Hundreds of subjects were dragged into the facility's labyrinthine halls, little more than test rats. Experiments blurred into disasters. The Reath, it seemed, wasn't meant to see the light.
The only breakthrough so far?
They had learned how to bring out the bad in a good person.
But it came with a brutal cost.
Whenever a subject revealed their darkest desires — confessed them, embraced them — their bodies rejected existence itself. They died within minutes, collapsing as though reality had revoked them.
Research into revealing the "good Reath" was abandoned. It was a dead-end.
Instead, DAB shifted its focus to a far colder project: E-Tox.
Once a month, under cover of night, vans would roll into the abandoned quarters of the city. Homeless, disabled, anyone the world had forgotten — they disappeared without a trace. No news reports. No families to raise questions. Just empty spaces and cold, uncaring concrete.
Out of sight, out of mind.
In a stroke of grim success, they discovered something:
E-Tox worked best not by force — but by acceptance.
When a subject accepted the darkness inside themselves, the transformation was pure. Absolute.
The first true result was a man once known for his kindness, his generosity. After the E-Tox, there was no trace of mercy left in him.
His skin hardened into an impenetrable shell of metallic flesh. His eyes, once warm, were now cold silver marbles that reflected nothing.
They named him Metal Skull.
"He's...perfect," whispered one of the researchers, awe battling terror in his voice.
"He's free," corrected Dr. Vell with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Metal Skull remained eerily docile inside the walls of the facility, silently learning, observing.
But once outside — unleashed into the chaotic web of streets and cities — he became a monster. A blood-slicked nightmare.
The sponsors who funded DAB — private collectors, mafias, warlords — were ecstatic.
Originally, they wanted insight into human nature.
Now, they had something better: human weapons.
And Metal Skull was just the beginning.
Every month, new horrors took shape:
Men who could lift objects with their minds, driven by endless greed.
Creatures that transformed during intimate moments, twisted by lust.
Chameleonic thieves, blending into their surroundings like nightmares given flesh.
Hackers who melded with technology itself, becoming one with circuits and wires.
And the magicians — those who left only a trail of smoke where they once stood, laughing as they vanished into the void.
Each creation was worse than the last.
Each proof that the Reath, once touched, could never be put back.
The DAB facility had long realized that their creations — the ones twisted by E-Tox — needed control.
Chaos couldn't be left to chance.
Thus, hidden deep beneath the city, they built a school — a cruel imitation of normal life — where the young and damned were "trained."
The E-Tox, they discovered, enhanced whatever evil already simmered inside a person. But true successes were rare. Most perished during the extraction, their bodies unable to bear the burden of pure darkness.
During one such admission cycle, an error was made.
A boy with no Reath exposure, no evil enhancement, slipped through the cracks.
His name was Jack.
Jack stumbled through the heavy steel doors, clutching a worn backpack, confusion etched across his face.
The halls stretched endlessly in all directions, lined with flickering lights and glass panels behind which shadowy figures whispered and watched.
"Where... am I?" Jack muttered under his breath.
Students with gleaming eyes and cruel smiles sauntered past him, some barely human, others monstrous enough that Jack had to look away.
He had no powers. No sinister gifts.
Only a heart that stubbornly refused to rot in a world built on decay.
But Jack wasn't here by pure accident — not entirely.
His family had been torn apart by one of DAB's monsters: Metal Skull, the facility's proudest abomination.
Jack's grief burned hotter than fear.
He didn't want revenge.
He wanted answers — and if possible, he wanted to fix Metal Skull.
"I have to know why he killed them," Jack told himself each night as he stared at the cracked ceiling of his dorm, barely sleeping.
At first, surviving was almost impossible.
The other students sensed weakness like blood in the water.
In the cafeteria, chairs would be yanked from under him. In the halls, whispered threats followed his every step.
One day, as three bullies cornered him against a locker, ready to tear him apart, something unexpected happened.
A shadow moved.
Without warning, the lead bully yelped in pain, clutching his wrist as it twisted unnaturally backward.
Another found himself face-first on the floor, unconscious.
Jack turned, wide-eyed, but saw no one.
Only the faintest echo of footsteps fading away.
From that day on, someone — or something — was watching over him.
Jack realized he couldn't do this alone.
If he wanted to survive — to save Metal Skull — and eventually bring the truth to light, he needed allies.
Slowly, he began reaching out to the others.
Not with promises of goodness — that would never work here.
Instead, Jack spoke their language: cunning, opportunity, survival.
"I don't want to change you," Jack said once, facing down a telekinetic boy who could crush metal with a thought.
"I want to win with you."
Bit by bit, he built a following.
Shape-shifters, telekinetics, hackers — they saw him not as weak, but as something rarer: a strategist, an evil genius hiding in plain sight.
Jack, the boy with no powers, had found his own weapon: his mind.
There was only one obstacle left: the collars.
Each subject wore one — a thin metal band around the neck, humming faintly with deadly promise.
If anyone tried to leave the facility, the collars would activate instantly, killing them.
Jack spent months studying them, gathering data from half-broken terminals, bribing sympathetic technicians.
Finally, he believed he had found the solution: a remote override in the control center's mainframe.
The night of the escape, the air was electric with tension.
Jack gathered his small army in the abandoned maintenance wing.
Rain hammered against the facility's old pipes, the wind howling like the dead.
"This is it," Jack whispered. His hands trembled slightly — not from fear, but anticipation. "Stay close. Stay quiet. We're walking out free."
The group moved silently through the shadows, past security cameras Jack had looped with stolen footage.
The front gates, heavy and rust-streaked, loomed ahead.
Jack pressed the final command into the stolen tablet.
A soft beep confirmed the override.
"We're clear," he said, pushing the gate open.
For one breathless moment, freedom was within reach.
Then, with a horrific click, the collars activated.
Jack turned, frozen, as one by one, the subjects' bodies convulsed and collapsed.
No screaming — just the sickening thuds of hope dying.
The last thing he saw before the gate slammed shut was their faces — trusting him, believing in him — right before the lights in their eyes went out.
He had failed them.
Not because he had made a mistake — but because DAB had never trusted their monsters enough to build a real override.
They had let him find it.
They had let him try.
And now they had their proof: even the best-hearted soul could be broken.
You're creating a fantastic emotional arc for Jack — this is powerful stuff.
The themes of grief, manipulation, inner corruption, and the search for redemption are really starting to bite.
Now, your last piece needs a few things to truly shine and hit like a novel:
Deeper emotional beats (especially during the torture and family manipulation).
Sharper transitions between his internal struggle and external events.
Environmental horror — the facility should feel like a character itself, choking him.
Stronger foreshadowing of his potential redemption path (even subtly).
Trapped inside the cold belly of the DAB facility, Jack was alone.
Grief clung to him like a second skin, suffocating every breath.
The faces of his fallen allies haunted him — flashes of their smiles, the way they had believed in him, trusted him — only to die because of his mistake.
"I failed them," he whispered into the darkness of his cell, fists clenched until his nails dug into his palms.
"I have to make this right."
But DAB had other plans.
The facility's black-clad henchmen ambushed Jack during one of his rare moments of sleep, dragging him through endless sterile hallways.
The lights above flickered madly, buzzing like angry wasps.
Jack barely fought back. Part of him was already broken.
They brought him to the lab — a room that smelled of metal, burning wires, and old blood.
Behind a thick wall of glass, the doctors observed him like a rare specimen.
Their eyes gleamed with a sick fascination.
"Subject 23-B," one murmured into a recorder, "natural resistance to E-Tox: unprecedented. Possible key to stable injection. Full extraction protocol authorized."
They didn't just want to study him.
They wanted to turn him.
Jack endured the first waves of their assault — physical torture that left bruises blooming across his skin, psychological games that clawed at his sanity.
He endured.
He knew what they wanted: to inject him with E-Tox, to rot him from the inside out.
"You'll be better, Jack," one doctor cooed mockingly. "You'll finally belong."
He refused. Again and again.
But then, they changed tactics.
The lights dimmed.
The room cooled until his breath turned to mist.
Holographic images flickered to life before him — scenes too vivid, too cruel.
He saw them:
His mother screaming.
His father bleeding out on the floor.
His little sister reaching for him — and then Metal Skull, standing over them, monstrous and merciless.
Over. And over. And over.
"You couldn't save them," a voice whispered through hidden speakers. "But you can avenge them. Take the E-Tox. Make them pay."
Jack cracked.
Tears streamed down his face as he collapsed to his knees, his screams swallowed by the steel walls.
"Fine," he choked. "I'll take it. Just make it stop."
They wasted no time.
The E-Tox burned as it entered his veins — a firestorm that ripped through him, twisting his mind and heart alike.
Jack had believed he was strong enough.
He was wrong.
The rage he had buried deep exploded to life, more savage than anything he had ever felt.
Frustration, hatred, vengeance — they consumed him like wildfire.
Metal Skull's image wasn't a ghost anymore.
It was a target.
And DAB — the puppet masters behind it all — would be next.
But Jack didn't realize the full extent of their plan.
He was not just another experiment.
He was to be their weapon — the perfect blend of intellect and rage, of human and monster.
Unbreakable. Unstoppable.
A tool to crush any who dared oppose DAB.
Jack's journey should have ended there, swallowed whole by darkness.
But somewhere, buried beneath the hatred, a flicker of who he once was remained — a stubborn, fragile ember refusing to die.
Somewhere deep down, Jack realized:
If E-Tox could corrupt... perhaps it could also be reversed.
And that was where his true fight began.
Not just against DAB.
Not just against Metal Skull.
But against the darkness inside himself.
The moment Jack surrendered, they didn't give him time to think.
Steel doors slammed open, and he was shoved into a blindingly bright arena.
The roar of the crowd hit him like a physical force — a thousand jeering voices, cheering for blood.
The arena wasn't just one ring — it was a labyrinth of cages, each hosting brutal battles between twisted Reaths. Lights flickered overhead, casting shadows that danced like predators.
But Jack saw none of it.
His eyes locked onto the figure standing at the center of his cage.
Metal Skull.
He was larger than Jack remembered, his skin a dull silver sheen under the arena lights. Scars — old and new — crisscrossed his body, proof of countless battles fought and won.
Jack's hands curled into fists.
His veins burned with fury.
Without hesitation, he charged forward, throwing a punch fueled by rage.
Metal Skull barely moved.
He caught Jack's fist effortlessly, his hand like a vice of iron.
There was no triumph in Metal Skull's eyes — only cold understanding.
"You're trying to control it," Metal Skull said, his voice a low rumble.
"If you keep fighting it, it'll kill you from the inside. Accept it... and it'll only kill part of you."
For a split second, Jack faltered.
Was that mercy in Metal Skull's voice? A warning?
The referee — a thin, sharp-eyed figure standing just outside the cage — made no move to intervene.
He wasn't here for fairness.
He was here to study.
The veins in Jack's arms throbbed, glowing red beneath his skin. His mind screamed in resistance.
But survival demanded surrender.
Jack let go.
He let the fury flood through him — a tidal wave of hate, grief, and unspoken power.
The transformation was instant.
His body twisted and reshaped, bones cracking, muscles tearing and regrowing.
Fangs erupted from his jaw, nails lengthened into razor-sharp claws.
Dark fur sprouted along his arms and chest, and a long, whip-like tail snapped the air behind him.
His senses exploded — the scent of blood and metal thick in the air, the deafening heartbeat of every person in the stands.
Jack had become a beast.
But unlike the lust-driven monsters he had seen before, this form was something different.
It was primal. Focused. Dangerous.
Without hesitation, Beast-Jack lunged at Metal Skull, claws outstretched.
But before contact could be made, Metal Skull simply vanished.
The arena lights blinked twice — and the match was called off.
Jack stumbled to a halt, confusion roaring in his ears. His beast form melted away, leaving him human again — trembling, dazed.
Then the voices started.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
A cacophony.
"Who are they?" Jack thought desperately, clutching his head.
"The crowd? The doctors? Or... me?"
The ground spun beneath him, and he collapsed.
When Jack woke, he wasn't in the arena anymore.
He was standing in an endless gray void.
Before him, chaos reigned.
Seven figures — all with his own face — fought violently amongst themselves.
Each wore different clothes, moved differently, snarled in different voices.
Jack staggered backward, heart hammering in his chest.
One figure broke away from the chaos and approached him.
Unlike the others, this version wore only a pair of loose shorts and carried an easy, mocking grin.
"Relax, newbie," he said, flashing a wicked smile. "I'm the Flirty one. Welcome to your Void."
Jack stared at him, bewildered.
"What... is this?"
The Flirty chuckled.
"This is your mind now. Seven Reaths. One throne. One body."
He gestured behind Jack, where a solitary black iron chair stood atop a small hill of shattered memories.
"Whoever claims the chair," Flirty said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper, "gets to control everything. The powers, the mind, the body."
Jack's stomach turned as he watched another version of himself — the Beast-Jack — tear through two others in a brutal, animalistic rage.
The Void wasn't a dream.
It was a war.
And only one Jack would survive it.
This time, it felt like Flirty was the only one willing to help Jack.
Among the chaos of battling selves, Flirty pushed through, grinning slyly as he grabbed Jack's arm.
"Come on, hero," Flirty whispered, pulling him toward the glowing hill where a single iron chair sat under a harsh white spotlight. "Before the others rip you apart."
Jack didn't fully trust him. But he had no choice.
He lunged for the chair — and the moment he sat, the Void cracked apart like shattered glass.
Jack gasped awake.
He was back in the real world.
Or what passed for it inside the DAB facility.
Cold steel cuffs bound his wrists to a surgical chair. A thick piece of tape gagged his mouth.
Above him, surgical lights blazed like false suns, and shadowy figures in lab coats loomed over him, scribbling notes.
His mind spun, still echoing with phantom voices.
They were studying him — their precious new discovery.
The beast form Jack had revealed was unlike anything the DAB had seen before.
Not just rage.
Not just mutation.
But something deeper. Older.
A true expression of the human soul's wildest instincts.
To understand it, they needed to understand Reath better.
The Principles of Personality:
In the cold reports scattered across the lab, diagrams were sketched out with clinical precision.
ID
The primal force of desire — pleasure, aggression, instinct.
It whispered for cigarettes, for blood, for stolen kisses and drunken laughter.
It didn't care about consequence — only craving. Superego
The harsh voice of morality and society.
It whispered shame and pride, laws and commandments.
The reason people hesitated, questioned, obeyed. Ego
The fragile bridge between chaos and law.
It calculated. It negotiated.
It told you how to get what you wanted without being cast out by your tribe, your family, your gods.
According to DAB, Ego and Superego were lies.
Illusions grafted onto humanity to make people weak and controllable.
Only Id mattered — raw, manipulatable desire.
That was the future they craved: a world where every human could be shaped by controlling their Reath.
But there was a problem:
Most people's Ids weren't pure anymore.
Tainted by envy, regret, guilt.
No wonder the E-Tox worked better — it didn't extract good, it unleashed evil.
Jack was something new.
When he submitted to E-Tox, instead of dying, his psyche fractured.
His Id, Ego, and Superego ripped apart, manifesting into living, warring entities inside his mind.
Jack's heart was shattered.
Hope was gone.
Without his family's memory to anchor him, his Id — wild and furious — ruled.
And so, when he saw Metal Skull again, standing tall in the arena, Jack's beast howled louder than his reason.
The bloodthirst took over.
Had Metal Skull not vanished at the last second, Jack would have torn him apart.
The noise inside Jack's head grew unbearable — a shrieking storm of rage, grief, hatred.
He collapsed.
Now, waking on the cold surgical table, Jack struggled against his bonds.
The cuffs bit into his wrists.
The gag soaked with his desperate breath.
He tried to scream, but it came out muffled and broken.
The doctors barely glanced at him.
"Prepare for secondary extraction," one said, tapping a syringe against a steel tray.
"We need to map every facet of his Reath."
Jack's vision blurred with helpless fury.
No one was coming to save him.
If he wanted to survive, he'd have to save himself.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos.
"Give me the chair."
It wasn't spoken aloud. It slithered into Jack's mind, heavy and undeniable.
"Give me the chair," it demanded again.
Jack, bound and gagged on the surgical table, squeezed his eyes shut and whispered into the storm inside his head, "Who are you?"
"Alvis," came the crisp reply.
"Now give me the chair."
Jack didn't know what that meant — everything was spinning, drowning in noise and confusion.
Desperately, he did the only thing he could think of. He closed his eyes tighter and gasped mentally:
"Alvis! Up!"
The change was immediate.
His body didn't explode into monstrous strength — instead, it twitched — just enough to snap the restraints loose.
It was messy, painful — but it worked.
Screaming echoed inside his skull, dozens of voices vying for control.
But Alvis — cold, calculating Alvis — moved first.
Jack ripped out the IV needles and without hesitation jammed them into the doctor's eyes.
The man howled and crumpled.
Panic surged through the lab.
The other doctors, terrified of triggering the beast-form again, screamed for security.
The heavy thudding of boots grew louder.
But Alvis had planned for this.
The moment the first guards burst through the doors, the trap sprang.
A hidden chemical reaction — hydrogen chloride mist mixed with volatile acids — sprayed into the air.
The guards shrieked as burning acid ate into their armor and skin, dropping their weapons as they clawed at their faces.
Jack — or rather, Alvis — laughed softly.
Inside Jack's mind, the real Jack begged:
"Stop this! Don't kill them!"
Out loud, Alvis said, smirking:
"Relax. They're alive. Just... decorated."
Alvis's mind moved fast.
Grabbing lab materials, he fashioned a makeshift launcher — test tubes, copper balls, sodium tablets.
Each chemical reaction created tiny controlled explosions, propelling the copper balls like high-speed bullets.
The first guard through the door took a shot straight to the eye socket.
He dropped, screaming, blood spurting between his fingers.
Another shot shattered a kneecap.
Alvis adjusted aim with each explosion — knees, wrists, throats — disabling, crippling, but avoiding lethal hits when possible.
He was ruthless but efficient.
Pride gleamed in his steps as he moved — head held high, the perfect engineer of chaos.
His body, however, was weak.
Each step drained him, each chemical blast cost him precious energy.
He stumbled more often now, breath coming in ragged gasps.
But somehow, he made it out of the facility.
Outside, electric patrol cars screamed into view.
Alvis hacked a vehicle's security system in seconds, overrode the autopilot, and bolted into the night.
The DAB henchmen gave chase, but Alvis's calculations were flawless — every turn, every alley, every hiding spot was already mapped in his mind.
By the time the sun crested the city's broken skyline, he was gone — hidden in the ruins beyond DAB's reach.
It was only then, as the adrenaline ebbed, that the real Jack clawed his way back to the surface.
The car skidded to a halt.
Jack stumbled out, dropped to his knees, and vomited onto the cracked pavement.
Tears blurred his vision as he pounded the ground with his fists, overcome by guilt and horror.
In the car's rearview mirror, he saw him — Alvis — leaning smugly inside the glass reflection, wearing cocky sunglasses and a self-satisfied grin.
"You wouldn't have survived without me," Alvis said lazily. "I am only a part of you. Maybe you should be thanking me instead of whining."
Jack clenched his fists.
"You hurt them," he hissed. "You... you enjoyed it! You're just a part of me — you don't have the right!"
Alvis chuckled darkly.
"Am I just a part?" he mused. "Or maybe you're just a part too? Maybe we're all fragments of someone who doesn't exist anymore."
Jack froze.
The words struck deeper than any blow.
Was he... the real Jack? Or just another echo?
How many more selves were trapped inside him?
And how many were darker — worse — than Alvis?
Sitting alone in the growing darkness, Jack wrapped his arms around himself.
Inside, the clamor began again — voices screaming for the chair, fighting for control.
The future was uncertain.
The path was broken.
And the greatest enemy Jack would face... might not be DAB.
It might be himself.
While Jack wrestled his inner demons, something unexpected grounded him.
A warm hand touched his shoulder.
He turned sharply.
She stood before him — a young woman with soft eyes, long dark hair, and a presence that immediately steadied his spiraling heart.
For the first time in days, Jack felt the chaos quiet.
But just as his pulse quickened, a familiar voice oozed into his mind.
"Damn... what a hottie," Flirty hissed. "Give me the chair if you want to get her in bed."
Jack clenched his fists, jaw tightening.
"Shut up!" he snarled under his breath.
The girl flinched. "I—I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong? I was just trying to help."
"No, not you," Jack muttered, biting his tongue. "I'm... I'm just hungry."
"Pathetic human," Flirty scoffed, laughing in his head.
Still, Jack saw something in her eyes — something genuine.
Hope.
Her name was Aponi. She lived down the hill with her grandparents and offered to bring Jack home for a meal. He hesitated... then nodded.
The strength she gave him with just a glance — he couldn't let go of that.
As they walked, Jack asked softly, "What happened to your parents?"
Aponi's expression darkened. "Monsters happened."
She didn't need to say more. Jack could feel the rage buried in her voice. He could tell — a Reath like Metal Skull had taken her family too.
Flirty laughed again, mocking Jack's silence.
"Say the word. Let me out. I'll tell her what you really are."
But Jack stayed quiet. He wouldn't lie, but he wouldn't confess either.
Some truths, if spoken too soon, destroy everything.
At Aponi's home, her grandparents greeted Jack with cautious kindness. Over dinner, her grandfather spoke harshly of the Reaths and the chaos they had unleashed.
Jack tried to keep his guilt buried.
Inside, Flirty was grinning. He could feel Jack slipping.
After dinner, Aponi showed him to a spare room. He collapsed onto the bed — grateful, broken, and overwhelmed.
And Flirty never stopped.
"You're a fraud. A coward. A weak little boy hiding behind someone else's kindness."
Jack rose, trembling, and faced the mirror.
"Enough," he said.
Flirty's voice echoed:
"You can't shut me up. You need me."
Jack gritted his teeth. "I'm stronger without you."
"Then why are you still listening?"
There was silence. Then a chuckle.
"I'll go quiet… for now. But ask yourself — is what you feel real? The strength from that girl? That warmth? You think it's love or hope. But it's just another chemical. Just another lie. And if I take over..."
He paused.
"What I feel is real. Lust. Hunger. Power. I won't pretend it's love. But I will say this — if you want to win, you need to understand every part of you. Even me."
Jack barely slept.
He dreamed again of the Void — vast, colorless, with only one iron chair in the distance.
No end in sight. Just that one throne.
"Now I get why politicians lose themselves," Jack thought. "The power that comes with that chair is too intoxicating."
He gripped the arms of the chair and whispered, "I'll overcome them. I'll be the one to hold this... and hold it right."
But behind him, Alvis's voice cut through the stillness.
"You think it's that simple?" he said, stepping forward, his eyes cold and calculating.
"Every plan we've made has backfired. Every win comes with a loss. You think you can beat the others without us?"
Jack looked at him. "Maybe not. But I have to try."
Alvis leaned close.
"Just remember: if things go wrong, and you fall... there may be no getting back up."
"Mr. Jack? Breakfast is ready!"
The voice that pulled him out wasn't Alvis this time.
It was Aponi.
Warm, sincere, human.
Jack opened his eyes and smiled — a rare, true smile. He washed up and joined the table.
The scent of spiced bread and fresh fruit filled the air.
Aponi's grandfather, Alex, eyed Jack as they ate.
"So," he said, "where are you from? How did you end up here?"
Jack looked at Aponi — his anchor — and answered, "I've been on the move. My parents were killed by a Reath. I've had nowhere to go since."
Suspicion flickered in Alex's eyes.
"It's odd," he said, "that you were alone and still survived. The infected don't usually spare anyone."
Alex's wife chimed in with a warm smile. "Let the poor boy eat. He doesn't seem like one of those monsters."
The word monster struck Jack like a knife.
Inside, Flirty stirred.
"Monster? Did you hear that? They'd gut you if they knew. Let me take over. One flick of the wrist, and we'll find out who's really in control."
Jack fought the rising chaos. But Flirty reached for the knife.
Granny giggled at his charm, mistaking it for flirtation.
Aponi's laugh — light and honest — snapped Jack back into place just in time.
Later, the conversation turned serious.
Jack said softly, "Revenge is a cycle. One death leads to another, and the war never ends. I don't want to be part of that anymore."
But Grandpa Alex stood, voice like thunder.
"So if I go out and kill the bastards who murdered my son… it means nothing?"
He pointed a trembling finger. "The only way to stop monsters is to become one."
Alvis stirred.
"Now you're talking my language."
Aponi, sensing the tension, spoke up. "Maybe we should bring Jack to the Lexsers."
Jack blinked. "Lexsers?"
"They fight the Reaths. Track and kill them. It's the only option we have left. Containment's a fantasy."
Jack's pulse quickened.
Flirty chuckled.
"Look around, genius. Shotgun with lust-rounds. Silver-lined furniture. Salt at the windows. Mirrors on every wall. They're ready for every kind of Reath... except me."
It clicked.
This house wasn't safe. It was a trap.
They were Lexsers.
And if they found out what Jack really was...
He was dead.
Later, back in his room, Jack stood before the mirror.
"Anyone here? Flirty? Beast? Alvis? … Hello?"
Silence.
Then a reflection answered — but it wasn't him.
Same face. Same clothes. But his eyes… pure black.
"Who are you?" Jack whispered.
The reflection smirked. "Not strong. Not smart. Not weak. Just... real."
Jack stepped back. "You're new."
"No," the figure said, cracking his neck. "I've been here all along. I watched. I learned. I waited."
Jack felt a chill creep up his spine.
The figure smiled wider.
"And now I'm ready to take my turn."
Jack stood in front of the mirror, eyes locked with the black-eyed version of himself.
The reflection spoke in a low, biting tone.
"I am the part that sees truth, not fantasy. I'm the one who doesn't dream of peace — because I know it's never coming."
Jack took a shaky breath. "You're not real."
"Neither are you," the reflection whispered, just as—
Knock. Knock.
"Are you busy?" Aponi's soft voice came from the other side of the door.
Jack blinked. "No, I was just… thinking about you. Come in."
Alvis screamed from within. "Give me the chair! Now! You won't survive this—"
The door creaked open.
Aponi entered with a calm smile. Her hand, hidden behind her back, came forward suddenly.
She held a syringe.
Jack's eyes widened — but the body was already shifting.
The mind got sharp. Fast.
Alvis took control.
He blocked the attack by locking her wrist with his forearm. Just in time.
"Strong grip... for a girl," Alvis muttered, his tone flat.
Inside, Jack was panicking.
"Why is she attacking us? What's happening?!"
Alvis narrowed his eyes.
"She was holding back — either hiding a gift… or a threat. And her shadow gave it away. Plus..."
He sniffed the air.
"She smells like polyester and burning plastic. She's not real. She's a shapeshifter."
Alvis snapped into motion.
He scanned the room. Not strong enough for a direct fight. But I can outsmart this thing…
Then it clicked — the silver.
There had been silver woven around the chair to test if Jack was a Reath.
That meant there'd be more traps hidden nearby — probably in the bed.
He kicked low, sweeping the imposter's leg. The shapeshifter stumbled back and crashed onto the bed.
The second his skin touched the sheets, smoke rose from the contact — burning.
Alvis grinned. "Gotcha."
The bed triggered a trap — a fine silver net dropped from above, wrapping the creature in sizzling wires.
It screamed — a sound somewhere between human and banshee — before slumping unconscious.
Alvis turned toward the hallway. But something was wrong.
The air reeked of chloroform.
"Sleeping gas?" he muttered. "So the others are down too..."
As he stepped into the stairwell, something massive hit him from behind.
He tumbled down and rolled into the living room.
A voice growled behind him.
"One shapeshifter couldn't take the house. So now we send in the big boy."
A grotesque monster stood there, grinning. Its body mutated, jaw wide, claws twitching.
"I like your body," the thing snarled. "I'm here to play with it."
Alvis cursed. "This is not my cup of tea."
And with that, he relinquished the chair.
Beast-Jack took over.
The monster lunged.
The Beast didn't flinch.
He grabbed the creature mid-air and slammed it to the ground.
"You think this is a game? That bodies are toys?"
He mounted the monster and began pummeling it, knuckles cracking with each brutal punch.
"You disgust me. You monsters... you only take. You don't know what it's like to live with pain."
Punch after punch until the floor was slick with blood. The monster stopped moving.
Beast rose, breathing heavily.
Only to be blindsided — a hammer struck his skull from behind.
He fell, dazed.
Alvis groaned. "Not again."
And then...
Flirty took the chair.
"Alright, alright! Who's next?" he called out with a grin. "Please don't be ugly—"
Then he saw it.
A jester-like Reath, makeup smudged, a massive hammer in hand.
"C'mon! A clown? I get the joker?"
The jester grinned.
Flirty bounced in place like a drunken boxer, arms loose, legs floppy.
No rhythm. No patterns. No warning.
That was his style — unpredictable, chaotic, fearless.
He attacked mid-sentence, ducked, spun, hit high and low at the same time — combos that no logic could anticipate.
Because even Flirty didn't know what he'd do next.
But unpredictability was a double-edged sword. His defense was trash, and he knew it.
"Better to take a punch than to look boring," he always said.
Still, his wild combos landed. The Joker went down with a hard thud.
Breathing hard, Flirty stood tall.
"What's with all these Reaths showing up?"
Then it hit him.
They couldn't escape the facility — not with collars and security.
Which meant...
"This isn't real."
They were still inside the DAB lab.
Being watched.
Maybe drugged.
Maybe trapped in another simulation.
Jack came back into control. Panic pulsed in his chest.
He ran to the mirror, searching his own reflection.
"Alvis? Flirty? Beast? Anyone here?"
Silence.
Then the reflection moved on its own.
It was Jack — but not Jack.
Same face. Same hair.
But his eyes were pure black.
His smile? Bone-deep, cold, and knowing.
"Who are you?" Jack asked.
The figure cracked his neck and whispered:
"I'm the one who lives in the real world.
I'm the part of you you've buried for too long.
Not hope. Not kindness. Just truth.
And when I take over...
no one's coming back."
The world shattered.
Jack stood in the wreckage, pieces of the house falling around him, as DAB doctors stormed in. At the forefront, Aponi stepped forward, eyes cold and unreadable.
Jack's heart dropped.
All the weight, the hope, the belief he had placed in her crumbled in that instant. She wasn't his ally. She wasn't a friend.
She was just another tool in DAB's hands.
"Betrayed," Jack thought bitterly. "This is how it ends. This is how it always ends."
Inside, Alvis laughed.
"What a jackass you are. She had you good, man..."
Jack's skin burned with shame. His eyes burned, but he knew better than to show it — not here, not now. Inside, every part of him wanted to break down, but the others — Beast, Flirty, and even Dark-I — were watching.
They would laugh if he showed weakness.
And so, Jack stood still.
His mind raced. He wanted answers. He wanted peace. But was that even possible anymore? How many times could he lose himself before nothing of him remained?
As the shield of pure atom encased him, Jack knew one thing for certain — escape was impossible. It was the most powerful, unbreakable shield the DAB could make. Transparent. Dense. Indestructible.
And Jack was the first to be trapped inside.
Aponi stood still, observing the spectacle of Jack's capture, but the more Jack saw her, the more betrayed he felt. His mind screamed. How could I have been so blind?
Alvis laughed again. "She got you good, man. You're such a fool."
Jack's heart twisted. This wasn't just about escape now. It was about understanding how everything had gone so wrong. How every choice had led him here.
Alvis broke into the silence, analyzing their situation with cold precision. "We're stuck in here. The only way out... is to outsmart it. We have powers, we can shapeshift, we can turn into beasts..."
Flirty chimed in, "Wait, so we can teleport out or use telekinesis to get out of this field?"
Alvis shook his head. "Not quite. We need someone who can pierce through the atoms, someone who can break this barrier — and I think I know who."
Dark-I spoke with a chilling tone. "I can help. I'm opposite to Jack. I'm made of anti-atom. If I take the chair, I can remove myself from this field."
Alvis nodded slowly, but then added, "But there's a catch. We need Jack stable. Without his energy, none of us can function properly."
Flirty raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'stable'? Can't we just go ahead without him?"
Alvis glanced at Jack, knowing the true cost of shifting. "No. If Jack's body is drained, our shifts will be uncontrollable. If Dark-I takes the chair, he'll consume too much energy and will collapse into a sculpture. Jack needs to be alive to power us. Without him... we're nothing."
Flirty, ever the optimist, tried to rally Jack. "Hey, boy. I know you've been through hell, but we're all here because you've got answers — no one else can give us what we need. We just need you to come through for us. Don't let the darkness win."
Jack closed his eyes, remembering the words he'd always held dear: "All I want is peace. And I'll do anything to get it."
The chair surged to life.
Dark-I's eyes flickered black as he took the seat, cracking his neck.
"Let's rock n' roll."
His body shifted into anti-atomic material, dark energy curling around him like a storm. His eyes burned with an eerie, unnatural light as he reached out to strike the shield.
The barrier shattered with a violent explosion.
"Oh, it feels good to be out."
Chaos erupted.
Gunshots rang out. Everyone was firing blindly. Jack's body had changed, but the power surging from Dark-I was overwhelming. The shockwaves from his punches sent guards flying. The very floor shook under the force of his blows.
Alvis shouted above the noise, "We need to move fast! Dark-I, can you form an anti-atomic shield and cover us?"
But before Dark-I could act, his body shifted again, absorbing the power of the chair.
Flirty laughed, "Oh, he's at it again. Not so fast, eh?"
Dark-I's body began hardening. The shift was draining his energy, but he had one last trick up his sleeve — he pushed the chair back toward Jack.
"You know what to do, Jack. Get us out of here."
The room felt like it was falling apart.
Alvis motioned to Beast, who leapt into action, dashing on all fours, like a wild animal. Jack followed the commands, but the world felt distorted. Every move Jack made was filled with disconnection.
Beast's claws scraped the floor as he raced toward Aponi, ready to kill. His instinct screamed at him to attack.
But then, Jack came to the surface. His mind fought the impulse.
"I want answers," Jack growled. "Why did you lie to me? Why did you say your parents were killed by a Reath?"
Aponi changed.
She shifted into a venomous white snake.
"I didn't lie," she hissed, her voice sickeningly sweet. "They were killed by a Reath. That Reath was me."
Jack recoiled.
"What?!"
Aponi's eyes glinted with malice as she spoke. "I poisoned my twin sister, Apino. I took her place. And then, DAB gave me the opportunity to feast on other Reaths. I've been hunting them for DAB... and now, it's your turn, Jack."
Alvis stepped in quickly, explaining, "Aponi's the twin sister of the white snake. Her task is to hunt and destroy Reaths who defy DAB. She wasn't here to help us; she was here to take Jack down."
Aponi's fangs bared as she lunged, venom dripping from her mouth. But Jack — now Beast-Jack — grabbed her jaw, fighting her strength. The venom hit his skin, burning. But with rage and force, he twisted her head back.
Flirty yelled out, "I didn't even get to talk to her!"
The team collectively shouted back, "SHUT UP, FLIRTY!"
Beast knew it was time to leave.
Alvis commanded Beast to climb higher — the highest point of the broken facility. From there, Beast could sense their route of escape. The walls shimmered. But when Alvis looked through Beast's eyes, his heart sank.
The entire city was a DAB facility. The Dome shielded them from the outside world.
There was no easy escape.
Alvis sighed. "There's only one way out. Disguise ourselves as guards and slip out through the main exit. But... we don't have that much time."
But then, Dark-I spoke up. His body still flickered with energy. "There's another way. But we have to act fast."
The tension rose. The trap had already been set. Jack wasn't just battling the DAB — he was battling himself, his fractured selves, his inner darkness.
The city was still controlled by DAB.
And Jack, now surrounded by enemies, knew one thing for sure.
To escape, he would have to defeat the one thing that made him weak.
Himself.
They have to shift fast and Jack will be holding them all. Alvis commands him to run towards the car.
As soon as they got near the car, Alvis took over and hacked into the car. Once the car was hacked, flirty took over and started driving.
His unpredictable driving skills are so disturbing but that was helping a lot to dodge the attacks. He drove it at full speed and took it near the dome where the help of Black eye was taken. Black eyes took over and broke the area of the dome which helped in making a hole and getting out through it.
They all collectively stepped out and started the new journey where they will have to survive in the real world.