In Between Realms

Seyfe's laugh was bitter, full of irony, and laced with a tinge of defiance. His eyes locked onto the commander's, his mind racing with the pieces of the puzzle he had been trying to put together ever since the procedure began.

"Is that it?" he said, the laughter dying in his throat. "Is it because I managed to survive this long while I was infected by RCM?" His voice rose, sharp and challenging.

The commander's expression remained stoic, but the tiniest flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe curiosity—crossed his face for just a moment.

"You know what RCM does to people, right?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but the weight of his words hung in the air like a fog. "The sickness that twists and kills, and yet here I am. Still alive. Maybe that's the real reason you've been so eager to get your hands on me. Not the Weaver Core, not my potential to be your weapon... but because I shouldn't be alive."

The room grew silent, the Veilers around him remained motionless, their eyes carefully averted, though Seyfe could feel their presence all around him.

The commander's gaze shifted slightly, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something more than just cold calculation in his eyes. "RCM," he began, his voice controlled but edged with a certain gravitas, "is a disease of the unknown. It's more than just a sickness—it's a curse, a mutation that we've only begun to understand. We thought that the first phase of its progression was terminal, but you..." His voice trailed off as if choosing his words carefully, as if trying to figure out just how to phrase it.

Seyfe smirked, his hands curling into fists, still restrained by the stasis chamber. "But I'm not just some anomaly, am I?" His tone growing darker, his frustration seeping through. "I'm the result of your experiment—a test case for something you never even understood in the first place."

The commander's gaze hardened, he stepped closer, just enough to make Seyfe feel the full weight of his presence.

"Your survival, Seyfe, is not a miracle. It's a consequence." The commander's voice was colder now, like a knife, and his words carried the weight of something dark and unsettling. "You're not just surviving RCM. You're evolving because of it. And that, Seyfe, is why you're a danger to us all."

Seyfe couldn't help but let out another bitter laugh. "Danger?" His voice was sharp, almost mocking. "You think I'm a danger? You're the ones who injected me with a goddamn Weaver Core, and now you're worried about what I might do?"

The commander studied him silently for a moment before speaking again, his voice now more measured.

"Yes. You're evolving because your body is rejecting what you should have died from. The RCM infection, combined with the Weaver Core, is creating a new form—something more than just a human, but not quite an echoform either."

Seyfe's heart skipped a beat, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. His body was changing, mutating in ways he hadn't even begun to understand.

His fingers twitched, a small spark of electricity jumping between his fingertips. He could feel it—the runes, the strange energy swirling inside him, still contained but brimming with potential.

The commander, noticing the subtle shift in Seyfe's energy, stepped back slightly, as though prepared for any sudden movement.

"We've seen this before," the commander continued, his tone almost contemplative. "But never in a subject like you. You're becoming something we can't control, Seyfe. And that makes you dangerous. If you're not handled... you could become more powerful than any of us ever imagined."

Seyfe met the commander's gaze, his chest still tight with anger, confusion, and a growing sense of dread. 

"Then maybe it's time you learn that I'm not the one you should be afraid of."

The commander's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"We'll see, Seyfe. We'll see."

And with that, the commander turned and walked toward the door, signaling the Veilers to follow. They moved in unison, their footsteps echoing in the sterile silence as the door slid closed behind them, leaving Seyfe alone in the cold, white room.

Seyfe's laugh echoed in the sterile room, hollow and bitter, as he let his words hang in the air. His chest heaved with the weight of his defiance, the pain of his situation mixed with the searing frustration of the unanswered questions that continued to churn in his mind.

"Why don't you just burn me like you did to my people? The ones who were infected by RCM... that's why it stopped, right?" He laughed again, but it was a bitter, hollow sound. "It worked for them, didn't it? They're dead, and so is the sickness. No more threats."

The commander froze for a moment at the mention of the RCM purge, his back to Seyfe. He didn't immediately respond, but his posture stiffened, a subtle tension emanating from him.

Seyfe's eyes burned with anger as he continued, "You're not fooling me. I know what you did to those people. You had them burned alive, didn't you? Cleansed, as you call it. But you don't care about us. You only care about keeping your precious experiment under control. And that's why you want me, right? Because I'm not supposed to survive this. But here I am, and you don't know what to do with me."

The commander turned slowly, facing him once more. His eyes were colder now, but there was something in his gaze—something dark, something almost resigned—as if Seyfe's words had struck a chord.

"You're wrong," the commander said, his voice low but firm. "It wasn't a choice, Seyfe. You don't understand the magnitude of what you're dealing with." His tone softened, a hint of something like regret or guilt flashing across his face before it was hidden behind the usual cold, calculating mask. "The RCM infection isn't just a sickness. It's a curse. We couldn't afford to let it spread any further. If we hadn't burned those who were infected, if we hadn't purged them..." He paused, as though weighing his next words carefully. "We would have lost everything. The city. The people. The government."

Seyfe's eyes narrowed, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but there was also something else there now—something sharper, more focused. "So you killed them to save yourselves," he muttered bitterly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "And now, you want to use me for what? For the same reason? To save your precious little system?"

The commander took a slow, deliberate step toward Seyfe, his eyes never leaving his. "The RCM infection is... unique. It doesn't just kill. It changes the person infected by it. It distorts them, turns them into something else—something more dangerous. And there's a reason it doesn't just spread like a virus. It's tied to the echoes. To the abominations."

Seyfe's pulse quickened as the words hung heavy in the air. He didn't speak for a moment, just absorbed the weight of the commander's words. "So, you're saying... this RCM thing is connected to the same creatures I've been killing? The ones I've been fighting?"

The commander nodded once, sharply. "Yes. The echoforms, the twisted monsters... they're all connected. And RCM, when it reaches its final phase, is something that can tear down the boundaries between the infected and the echoes. That's why it's so dangerous. The purge was necessary because if the infection wasn't controlled..." His voice trailed off, his gaze hardening. "It would've consumed everything. All of it."

Seyfe's heart thudded in his chest as the realization began to dawn on him. His own survival, his continued existence... it wasn't just some freak of nature. It was connected to the very thing he had been fighting—the echoes, the twisted creatures, the things that had haunted the world for as long as he could remember.

But even with that knowledge, a sharp, bitter edge still lingered in his mind.

"So you're telling me that you're not burning me alive, like you did to the others, because I might be useful, huh? Because I'm some kind of tool in your grand experiment." His voice was dripping with scorn, but there was something else there now—a strange clarity, the beginnings of an understanding he hadn't wanted to accept.

The commander didn't flinch. Instead, he watched Seyfe carefully, his face unreadable.

"I'm telling you," the commander said softly, "that you're a threat—a threat to everything we've been trying to control. But you're also a key. A key to understanding what's happening to you, to the echoes, to everything."

Seyfe's eyes locked onto the commander's, and for a moment, it felt like the room was closing in on him. The truth, however grim, was starting to crystallize in his mind. He wasn't just some pawn in their game. He was part of the game itself now—a piece of a puzzle that was far bigger and more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.

"You don't get it," Seyfe spat, his voice filled with defiance. "You don't get to control me. I'm not your weapon."

The commander's gaze hardened again, his voice taking on a finality that left no room for argument.

"We'll see, Seyfe. We'll see."

And with that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the sterile room. The Veilers followed, their presence still looming, leaving Seyfe alone in his restraints once more.

And that truth, as bitter as it was, would change everything.

Seyfe lay still, his mind churning as he absorbed the harsh reality that had just been laid before him. The cold, clinical nature of the room, the sterile walls, the hum of machinery—all of it faded into the background as the weight of his situation began to settle in. The truth was unmistakable: to them, he wasn't just a survivor. He was a threat. His very existence, his ability to survive what should have killed him, made him something dangerous, something they couldn't control.

Yet even as that truth loomed over him, another thought pierced through the fog of his mind. They're underestimating me.

They saw a monster. They saw the Echoform infection, the strange runes, the altered state of his body. They saw someone whose survival went against the natural order, and they assumed he was nothing more than a ticking time bomb—a force of nature that would inevitably turn on them.

But what they didn't see, what they refused to acknowledge, was that Seyfe was still human. He wasn't a mindless creature, some twisted abomination bound to wreak havoc. He was a man, just a man, with the same fears, the same desires, and the same capacity for reason as anyone else. He had survived—yes—but it didn't mean he had lost himself in the process.

I'm still me.

The realization hit him harder than any physical pain could. He wasn't some uncontrollable beast. He wasn't a tool to be used by the government or a threat to be wiped out. He was a person—a person who had been dragged into this nightmare against his will, a person who had been forced to adapt in order to survive, but still, a person nonetheless.

His thoughts swirled as the truth continued to crystallize in his mind. They think they can manipulate me, control me, use me for their own gain. They think that because of what happened to me, because of the infection, I'm no different than the Echoforms they fear. But I'm not like them. I'm not their monster.

He clenched his fists, the subtle tremors of his body betraying the tension that was building within him. The Veilers, the government, they all underestimated what he was capable of. They thought that because they had power—because they held the reins—they could push him around, control him, turn him into whatever they needed.