The second floor laboratory was pristine white hell, every surface gleaming under surgical lights that made my retinas burn. The air hung thick with industrial disinfectant and something organic that made my medical training scream warnings about contamination and death.
Dr. Weiss sat behind an antique mahogany desk like he was hosting afternoon tea instead of planning my systematic vivisection. Gold-rimmed glasses caught the harsh light as he poured from an elegant porcelain set, each movement precise as a surgeon's first cut.
"Sugar?" he asked, voice warm as honey poured over broken glass.
*This absolute psychopath is offering refreshments before he dissects me like a lab rat. This is fine. Everything is completely fine.*
**[LIVESTREAM - VIEWERS: 2,847,392]**
→ @BloodRose_666: THE POLITENESS SOMEHOW MAKES IT INFINITELY WORSE
→ @ChaosQueen: Tea service before torture is peak psychological warfare
→ @ShadowLord donated 100,000 credits: "CULTURED PSYCHOPATH ENERGY IS TERRIFYING"
→ @OmegaLover: Why do the pretty ones always want to murder people?
"I don't drink with patients," I replied, keeping my voice clinically detached despite the terror clawing at my throat.
His smile was perfect, practiced, absolutely chilling in its genuine warmth. "How refreshingly professional. We share that dedication to our craft, Dr. Shen. It's what separates us from the animals."
The delicate teacup clinked against its saucer—a death knell wrapped in porcelain elegance.
"Shall we begin our consultation?"
Blue threads erupted from his fingertips without warning, thin as spider silk but clearly visible, diving straight for my pulse points with predatory intelligence. I jerked backward instinctively, but they moved like living things, seeking my wrists and throat with unerring accuracy.
Searing pain lanced through my veins as parasitic filaments burrowed into my bloodstream like microscopic needles. My body locked up completely, muscles betraying me as foreign consciousness invaded my nervous system with the intimacy of a lover and the violence of a rapist.
*Shit. This is definitely not how I'm going to die.*
Weiss stood with fluid grace, my legs now moving against my will toward the surgical table. Each step was mechanical, wrong, my body dancing to his twisted tune like a marionette with cut strings.
Then something cracked in his perfect composure.
His pale eyes went wide as the parasitic link worked both ways, neural pathways flowing in directions he hadn't anticipated. Through our unwilling connection, he was seeing my memories—blood splattered on hospital walls, my mother's final labored breath, the crushing weight of failure and guilt that had driven me to this concrete hell.
"Your eyes," he whispered, voice breaking with unexpected emotion. "They're just like Subject 298's before he died. My little brother..."
*Another dead sibling. What the hell happened in this place? What kind of experiments were they running?*
For a heartbeat, genuine pain flickered across his aristocratic features—human emotion breaking through the monster's carefully constructed mask, revealing something vulnerable and shattered underneath.
Then madness slammed back down like a steel trap, crushing any trace of humanity.
"But it doesn't matter," he said, cultured calm returning with terrifying efficiency. "Nothing matters except advancing the work. Science demands sacrifice, and you'll make such a beautiful specimen."
The scalpel appeared in his hand like a magician's trick, surgical steel catching the light as he raised it toward my chest with the reverence of a priest preparing for sacrifice.
---
The blade pressed against my skin through torn fabric, cold steel promising agony beyond imagination. Weiss's parasitic threads pulsed in my bloodstream like a second heartbeat, turning me into his unwilling puppet.
The knife bit down slowly, drawing a thin line of blood that welled up bright red against pale flesh. I could feel his excitement through the neural link—scientific curiosity mixed with something darker and infinitely more twisted.
Then the livestream chat exploded with suggestions that shouldn't have been possible for viewers to know.
**[CHAT GOING NUCLEAR]**
→ @SystemHacker: REVERSE THE FLOW! ABSORB INSTEAD OF RELEASE!
→ @Anonymous_0001: DEVOUR HIS POWER! TURN IT AGAINST HIM!
→ @BloodRose_666: THE PARASITES WORK BOTH WAYS - EXPLOIT THE CONNECTION!
→ @ChaosQueen: USE HIS OWN ABILITIES TO DESTROY HIM!
*Wait. Can I actually do that? Can I reverse the energy flow?*
Desperation made me reckless beyond reason. Instead of trying to push out purification energy like I had with Zane, I reversed the flow entirely—pulling inward with everything I had, *consuming* instead of cleansing, devouring instead of healing.
The effect was instantaneous and absolutely devastating.
Blue parasitic threads that had been flowing into me suddenly snapped back toward their source with violent force, yanked like rubber bands stretched to their breaking point. Weiss's eyes went wide with shock and dawning terror as his own power turned against him with predatory hunger.
"What are you—"
His right hand, still gripping the scalpel with white-knuckled intensity, snapped up with mechanical precision and delivered a vicious slap to his own face.
The crack echoed through the laboratory like a gunshot. Weiss staggered backward, blood trickling from his split lip, his perfect composure shattered like expensive crystal hitting concrete.
I broke free from his weakened control, muscles responding to my will again for the first time since entering this nightmare. The scalpel clattered to the sterile floor as I straightened my torn coat and adjusted my collar with deliberate, insulting calm.
"As a medical professional," I said, looking down at him with the kind of clinical detachment I'd use to discuss a particularly uninteresting rash, "I recommend immediate psychiatric evaluation for your obvious disorders. Also, your surgical technique is embarrassingly sloppy."
**[CHAT EXPLOSION]**
→ @ChaosQueen: HE MADE THE PSYCHO SLAP HIMSELF I'M LITERALLY SCREAMING
→ @ShadowLord: THE DISRESPECT! THE AUDACITY! I LIVE FOR THIS ENERGY
→ @OmegaLover: DOCTOR DADDY SERVING VIOLENCE AND LOOKS SIMULTANEOUSLY
→ @DarkPrince donated 500,000 credits: "MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I'VE EVER WITNESSED"
→ @BloodRose_666: THE WAY HE'S JUST STANDING THERE LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED
Weiss collapsed against his antique desk, parasitic threads retracting like wounded snakes seeking shelter. His platinum hair was disheveled, gold-rimmed glasses askew, the image of refined menace replaced by something broken and utterly confused.
"Impossible," he whispered, voice barely audible above the humming of laboratory equipment. "The parasites have never been reversed before. The neural pathways don't work that way..."
I picked up the fallen scalpel, testing its weight with professional interest. "Maybe you should stick to regular surgery, Doctor. This whole mad scientist aesthetic really isn't working out for you."
---
The energy pulse from our confrontation rippled through the prison like a shockwave, setting off alarms and emergency protocols throughout the facility. Red lights began flashing as something fundamental shifted in the delicate balance of power that kept this place functioning.
Then the reinforced ceiling exploded inward with the force of a controlled demolition.
Zane crashed through layers of concrete and steel like they were tissue paper, silver hair wild with fury and crimson eyes blazing with protective rage that made the air itself seem to burn. He landed in a predatory crouch between me and Weiss, every line of his massive frame screaming barely contained violence.
The temperature in the laboratory dropped twenty degrees as Lord Jun's presence filled the space like poison gas. Shadows writhed at the edges of my vision, reality itself bending and warping as his illusions took hold of the room with suffocating intensity. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the twins—Lucian and Damian—roaring in perfect harmony, their voices shaking the very foundations of the prison.
All six S-class inmates had responded to the disturbance like antibodies rushing to fight an infection. And they weren't here to hurt me.
They were protecting their territory. Guarding what they'd claimed with lethal determination.
*Oh. I'm the territory. I'm what they're fighting over.*
**[LIVESTREAM CHAT]**
→ @BloodRose_666: REVERSE HAREM PROTECTION SQUAD OFFICIALLY ACTIVATED
→ @ChaosQueen: SIX S-CLASS MONSTERS AND THEY'RE ALL COMPLETELY WHIPPED
→ @ShadowLord: THIS TERRITORIAL DISPLAY IS THE MOST INTENSE THING I'VE SEEN
→ @OmegaLover: THE WAY THEY ALL CAME RUNNING WHEN HE WAS IN DANGER
The laboratory door burst open with enough force to crack the reinforced frame. Warden Adam strode in like an avenging angel, his single monocle reflecting the chaos with cold amusement. He surveyed the scene—the destroyed ceiling, the cowering Weiss, the protective circle of S-class inmates—and smiled with genuine pleasure.
He raised one hand, fingers moving in a complex pattern, and electricity coursed through every control collar with brutal efficiency.
Zane collapsed first, his massive frame hitting the floor with a sickening thud that made my chest ache. The others followed in rapid succession—Lord Jun's shadows dissipating like smoke, the twins' roars cutting off mid-scream, even Weiss convulsing as the current found him through his weakened state.
"Enough," Adam said quietly. His voice carried absolute authority, the kind of power that brooked no argument and crushed resistance before it could form.
He walked through the fallen monsters like they were furniture, approaching me with predatory grace that made every survival instinct scream danger. His hand reached toward my face, fingers almost touching my cheek with possessive intent.
"Perfect," he murmured, voice filled with scientific fascination. "Such a perfect vessel for the final phase of our project."
I couldn't move. Whatever technology controlled the collars was affecting me too, locking my muscles in place like invisible chains. But my mind remained crystal clear, and in the corner of my vision, golden text was flashing with urgent intensity:
**[PARASITIC FRAGMENT CAPTURED: 1/12]**
**[INTEGRATION AVAILABLE - ACCEPT? Y/N]**
Adam's fingers were inches from my skin, close enough that I could feel the unnatural heat radiating from his palm. His monocle gleamed with satisfaction as he prepared to claim his prize, to add me to his collection of broken toys.
*You think I'm just a vessel? You think I'm here to be used and discarded like the others?*
I focused on the flashing prompt, making my choice with cold fury and grim determination.
*Wrong. I'm not your fish, Warden. I'm the one who's going to burn down your entire pond.*
**[INTEGRATION: ACCEPTED]**
Power flooded through me like liquid lightning mixed with molten gold. Parasitic abilities merged with my purification energy, creating something new and terrifying that had never existed before. Adam's hand was still reaching for my face when my eyes snapped open, now burning with golden fire that reflected in his monocle.
But instead of attacking immediately, I smiled—cold, clinical, absolutely devastating in its promise of retribution.
"Hello, Warden," I said softly, voice carrying new harmonics that made the air vibrate. "Ready for your performance review?"
The parasitic threads that had been Weiss's specialty now belonged to me, enhanced and amplified beyond anything the broken doctor had ever achieved. And unlike him, I had six very motivated test subjects lying helpless on the floor, their loyalty already proven in blood and violence.
Time to see how Adam liked being the one without control for once.