The Chosen One of the Fog

The facilities of Umbra Division were an underground labyrinth of sterile hallways and fluorescent lights. Every corner was designed to be impersonal, cold, and efficient. There were no windows, no clocks, nothing that could connect the prisoners to the outside world. Just white walls, sealed metal doors, and the constant hum of machines that never rested.

Three weeks had passed since Niel arrived at this place. At first, all he could feel was fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the creatures that had killed his parents in front of his eyes, fear of what they would do to him here. But that fear didn't last long.

It was a researcher who managed to change that. A tall, thin man with thin-framed glasses and a calculated smile that never reached his eyes. He introduced himself as Dr. Harlan, though Niel knew that name was probably fake. Harlan had a special way of speaking, as if every word was carefully measured to manipulate. And it worked.

"Niel," Harlan said during their first conversation, sitting across from the boy in a small white room, "I know what you've been through. I know what you saw. Those creatures... they took everything from you. But I can help you."

Niel looked at him with empty eyes, saying nothing. He had barely spoken since his arrival.

Harlan continued, his tone soft but insistent:

"Here, at Umbra Division, we can give you the power you need. You can become stronger, faster, smarter. You could have the chance for revenge. Don't you want that? Don't you want to make those creatures pay for what they did to you?"

For a moment, Niel didn't respond. But something inside him ignited. A spark of hatred, of anger, of thirst for justice. He nodded slowly.

Harlan smiled, satisfied. In his mind, he thought, "It's so easy to manipulate these children. They've lost so much that they're willing to cling to any promise of hope, even if that hope comes wrapped in pain. Adults are harder; their reasoning is too developed. But children... they still believe they can recover something of what they lost."

And so the experiments began.

At first, they weren't painful. Simple physical and mental tests: running on a treadmill, solving puzzles, measuring reflexes. But gradually, the intensity increased. The tests became more invasive, more exhausting. Injections that burned under the skin, simulations that pushed their mental limits, controlled exposure to stimuli that seemed ripped straight from their worst nightmares.

And Niel changed.

One afternoon, after a particularly intense session, Harlan found himself once again with Niel in an observation room. The boy was sitting in a chair, staring blankly at the floor. His expression was no longer one of fear, but of absolute indifference.

"How are you feeling today, Niel?" Harlan asked, jotting something down on his electronic tablet.

"Fine," Niel responded, his voice flat and emotionless.

Harlan observed him closely.

"Do you still think about your parents?"

Niel looked up for the first time. His gray eyes, once filled with sadness, now seemed made of steel.

"No. It doesn't matter anymore."

Harlan smiled inwardly. "Perfect," he thought. "He's losing his humanity. He's becoming what we need."

But, to be sure, he decided to push a little further.

"And what about your revenge? Do you still want to destroy those creatures?"

Niel stared at him, as if evaluating every word before responding.

"Yes. I do."

Harlan nodded, pleased.

"Then keep going. Keep improving. You'll be ready soon."

When Harlan left the room, another scientist intercepted him in the hallway.

"Do you really think it will work?" the scientist asked, concerned. "This boy... he seems different from the others. More intense."

Harlan adjusted his glasses, his face impassive.

"That's exactly what makes him special. Most of the children here are broken, but they still cling to fragments of their humanity. Niel, however... he's letting go of everything. That coldness, that lack of empathy... it's what will make him our perfect weapon."

The scientist didn't seem convinced.

"But what if something goes wrong? What if he...?"

Harlan interrupted him sharply.

"Don't overthink it. Just do your job."

Meanwhile, in his assigned room (a small cubicle with a bed and a desk), Niel sat in silence. He had changed a lot in three weeks. He no longer felt fear or pain. Or at least, that's what he tried to believe.

But, deep inside him, something was still alive. Fragments of memories: the apple pie Margaret had baked, Thomas's laughter when he ruffled his hair, their screams as the creatures tore them away from him.

"Do I really want to forget?" Niel thought for a brief moment. He tried to push those thoughts aside, but a traitorous tear rolled down his cheek before he could notice. He wiped it away quickly with the back of his hand, angry with himself.

"I can't allow myself this," he told himself. "I can't be weak."

But for a moment, he wished he could go back. He wished he could return to that small country house, where everything was simple and safe. Where he still had his parents.

At that exact moment, someone knocked on the door.

"Niel? It's Ariadna. Can I come in?"

Niel quickly wiped his eyes and nodded, though he knew she couldn't see him through the door.

Ariadna entered with a tray in her hands. She was a young woman, with brown hair tied in a ponytail and a warm expression that contrasted with her white lab coat. She carried syringes, test tubes, and a small device for taking blood samples.

"Time for your routine check-up," she said with a soft smile, as if trying to make the procedure seem less intimidating.

Niel didn't respond, but he didn't resist either when she approached to take his arm.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked while preparing the needle.

"Fine," Niel responded automatically.

Ariadna glanced at him sideways, noticing something in his tone.

"You don't sound very convinced."

Niel looked at her for the first time.

"Why do you ask that?"

She smiled slightly.

"Because I'm good at reading people. Plus, I've been watching you since you got here. I've learned to notice when something's bothering you."

Niel looked away, uncomfortable.

"It's nothing."

Ariadna finished filling the test tube and labeled it carefully. Then, as she packed away her instruments, she said quietly:

"If you ever need to talk, you can tell me. I'm not like the others here."

Niel looked at her, surprised. No one in this place had shown even a hint of kindness toward him.

"Why are you helping me?"

Ariadna shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

"Let's just say... I understand what it's like to be trapped in a place you can't escape from."

Before Niel could respond, she stood up and walked toward the door.

"See you in two days, Niel. Take care until then."

After she left, Niel stared at the closed door for several minutes.

Training Field

The training field was a large, dark room, illuminated only by strobe lights that flickered erratically. The floor was covered with a metal grid that resonated with every step, and the walls were lined with laser sensors that shot red flashes in all directions. It was a simulation designed to push the subjects' reflexes to their limits. For most, it was almost impossible to avoid all the beams. But Niel was not like the others.

"Begin the test," announced a robotic voice from the speakers.

Immediately, the lasers sprang to life, tracing deadly lines through the air. Niel moved with superhuman agility, anticipating each attack before it happened. His eyes seemed to capture invisible patterns, calculating trajectories in milliseconds. He dodged a laser that grazed his arm, spun around to avoid another coming from behind, and jumped just in time for a third beam to pass beneath his feet.

In his mind, everything seemed to move in slow motion.

"The next one will come from the left... now." He slid to the right, letting the laser cut through the air where he had stood just a second before. "This is a repetitive pattern. Two quick ones, then one high. Predictable."

The researchers observed from an elevated glass booth. Dr. Harlan stood at the front, his eyes fixed on Niel with a mixture of fascination and greed. Beside him, other scientists frantically took notes, murmuring among themselves.

"It's incredible," said one of the researchers, adjusting his glasses. "We've never seen reflexes this precise. Not even in adults who have been training here for years."

Harlan nodded slowly, without taking his eyes off Niel.

"He's superior to anyone we've had before. Maybe only one person ever matched him... but they're gone now."

The others exchanged uncomfortable glances. No one asked whom he was referring to. They knew better than to ask.

Another scientist interjected, his tone hesitant:

"Do you think he's ready for the next level? Hand-to-hand combat requires more than just reflexes. He needs strength, emotional control..."

Harlan interrupted him with a sharp gesture.

"Don't underestimate this boy. He's proven he can adapt to any situation. If we teach him combat techniques, he'll learn quickly. Besides, his innate abilities will compensate for any initial deficiencies."

The first scientist frowned.

"But what if he fails? We can't risk losing him. He's too valuable."

Harlan smiled coldly.

"He won't fail. You'll see."

As he continued to dodge the lasers, Niel felt his mind working like a perfectly oiled machine. Every movement was calculated, every decision instantaneous.

"If I keep this pace, I can predict every attack. The patterns always repeat after a certain time. I just need to focus."

A laser passed dangerously close to his neck, but he didn't even blink. He knew it wouldn't hit him. He had anticipated its trajectory before it appeared.

"This is easy. Too easy. Why are they testing me with something so basic?"

For a moment, a pang of frustration crossed his mind. He wanted to face something harder, something that would truly challenge him. But then he remembered Harlan's words: "Soon, you'll be ready."

"Ready for what?" he wondered. "To get revenge? To become their perfect weapon?"

A laser shot horizontally in front of him, forcing him to duck. In that instant, something strange happened. For a brief second, he felt an echo inside his head, as if another voice was trying to speak to him.

"Don't trust them," the voice whispered, barely audible.

Niel shook his head, bewildered.

"What was that?"

But he had no time to think further. The test continued, and the lasers began to accelerate, multiplying in complexity. Now they weren't just straight lines; some zigzagged, others changed direction abruptly. Still, Niel pressed on, moving with an almost supernatural fluidity.

When the test ended, Niel remained motionless in the center of the room, breathing only slightly faster than normal. The lasers shut off, and the lights returned to normal. From the booth, the researchers looked at each other, impressed.

"That was... extraordinary," murmured one of them, still typing notes on his tablet.

Harlan turned to the group, his expression serious but satisfied.

"This confirms what we suspected. His cognitive processing ability has surpassed all our previous models. It's time to move to the next level."

"Hand-to-hand combat?" asked another scientist, doubtful. "Are you sure he's ready?"

Harlan glared at him.

"We're not here to play it safe. This boy is our best chance against the creatures. If we want results, we need to push him to his limit."

The scientist swallowed hard but said nothing more.

Harlan activated the intercom.

"Niel, good work. Tomorrow we'll begin your next phase of training. Be prepared."

From below, Niel looked up at the booth. He said nothing, but his gray eyes gleamed with determination.