Alex's body trembled as his consciousness returned, a strange current coursing through his veins like liquid fire. Every nerve felt alive, humming with energy, sharp and unfamiliar. His chest rose and fell unevenly, lungs dragging in air as if they had been asleep for centuries and were only now remembering how to breathe.
The world came into focus slowly. A dim glow pulsed above him, pale blue light strips tracing along smooth metallic walls. The faint hiss of machinery filled the chamber, mingling with a sterile smell of antiseptic and ozone. Droplets of condensation slid down the transparent lid above his head, catching the light like tiny shards of glass.
With effort, Alex opened his eyes fully. His body felt… different. Not weak, not fragile, but somehow sharpened—every movement carried a subtle precision, every breath felt richer, deeper. He pressed his palms against the cool surface of the chamber and sat upright, his muscles trembling, then steadying as though rediscovering themselves.
That was when the text appeared.
[System Activated.]
The words hovered in front of his vision, crisp and undeniable, as if etched into the air itself. He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, but they didn't vanish.
[Core Functions Online: STATUS / QUEST]
[Additional functions: Locked until progression.]
Alex froze, his pulse hammering in his ears. His thoughts stumbled over each other, trying to grasp what he was seeing. He barely had time to react before the world around him changed.
The faint hum of machinery dulled. The hiss of valves stilled. Even a bead of condensation that had been falling toward the floor stopped mid-air, frozen in time.
And then, light gathered in front of him.
A delicate shimmer coalesced, strands of white-blue weaving together until they formed the outline of a woman—slender, elegant, composed of translucent light. Her presence wasn't overwhelming, but it carried a weight that demanded attention. Her face was calm, eyes like faint stars.
When she spoke, her voice entered directly into his mind. Clear, steady, without echo.
"Host recognized. Initialization complete."
Alex stiffened, fists clenching at his sides. "Who the hell are you?"
The being tilted her head slightly, her movements smooth as flowing water. "I am Sylvie, interface of the Sovereign System. My role is to guide you in using its functions."
Her tone was measured, neither cold nor warm—simply factual.
Alex swallowed, his throat dry. "Why me?"
Sylvie's gaze didn't waver. "Your background data remains sealed," Sylvie explained, her tone even, neither mechanical nor overly warm—almost like a tutor reading from a book. "But certain functions are accessible: status review and quest tracking. The rest will unlock when your growth justifies it." Alex exhaled, leaning against a glass panel that pulsed faintly with blue circuits. He muttered that it felt like he was being strung along. Sylvie's reply was simple: "Not strung along—paced. The faster you advance, the sooner the locks break." Alex smirked bitterly, running his hand along the edge of a console. "Feels like a leash," he said. "Then think of me as the hand holding it steady," Sylvie countered.
Alex let out a humorless breath, a quiet laugh at the absurdity. "Bound to me. Of course. Why does this feel like some sick joke?"
Sylvie didn't react. Instead, text floated across his vision again.
[STATUS – Displays current physical and mental condition.]
[QUEST – Issues objectives designed to guide progress.]
"That is all you can use now," Sylvie said. "Other functions remain sealed."
Alex narrowed his eyes. "Why sealed?"
Her voice softened just slightly. "Because knowledge without strength is a burden. If you try to hold more than you can carry, you will break. The system paces you, to ensure survival."
He pressed a hand against his temple, trying to steady his racing thoughts. "And you? You'll just… stay in my head?"
"I remain unseen unless summoned or unless the system requires intervention," she replied. A faint smile tugged at her lips—not warmth, but reassurance. "Think of me as a guide walking behind you, not a voice dragging you forward."
Alex smirked faintly despite himself. "Great. I finally get a voice in my head, and it's a strict one."
"You'll thank me later," Sylvie murmured.
The silence stretched between them for a beat, heavy but not suffocating. For a strange moment, Alex almost believed her.
Then, as quickly as she appeared, her light dimmed and flickered away.
The world lurched back into motion—the machines hummed, condensation splattered against the floor with a soft drip. The pod hissed as its lid unlocked and slid open, releasing a burst of chilled air that rushed across Alex's damp skin.
Shivering, he swung his legs out and stepped onto the ground. His balance held steady despite the tremor of adrenaline coursing through him. Everything felt sharper—the faint scrape of metal boots outside the chamber, the subtle tang of ozone in the air, the way his own heartbeat thudded against his ribs.
At the center of the chamber stood William Ironhart. His father's tall figure dominated the room. His left arm was crossed over his chest, his right still bound in a sling from old wounds. Lines of strain etched his face, but his green eyes burned sharp and unyielding as they fixed on Alex.
"You're awake," William said, his voice deep, carrying the weight of authority.
Alex rubbed a hand through his wet hair, breathing out slowly. "Yeah. I feel… different."
His father studied him silently, gaze measuring, searching. Then, finally, a small nod. Approval. "Good. That means the process worked."
Alex frowned. "What process?"
"You'll understand in time," William said, turning toward the exit. "Come. There are things you need to see."
He motioned for Alex to follow, turning with a fluid grace despite his injuries, and Alex stepped out of the pod, the cold floor grounding him as he trailed behind. The chamber's sterile walls gave way to a corridor lined with cutting-edge technology—screens embedded in the metal pulsed with data, holographic displays flickered with maps and schematics, and the air buzzed with the faint static of active systems. Technicians in white coats moved silently along the edges, their heads bowed as they monitored equipment, their presence a quiet hum beneath the lab's energy.
William led him through the winding passages, each turn revealing more of the underground complex's vastness. The corridors stretched like arteries beneath the ice, their surfaces smooth and unyielding, reflecting the blue glow of overhead lights. Guards in tactical gear stood at key points, their rifles held at ease but ready, their visors obscuring their faces as they saluted William with crisp precision. Alex's newfound senses picked up the faint click of their boots, the subtle shift of their weight—a clarity that both thrilled and unnerved him.
They passed a massive window overlooking a cavernous chamber, and Alex paused, his breath catching as he took in the sight. Below, enormous machines hummed with power, their articulated limbs moving in synchronized patterns as they assembled weapons—sleek rifles, glowing blades, devices that pulsed with energy he couldn't name. Scientists scurried between them, adjusting dials and inputting commands, their movements a ballet of precision. The scale of it all—the technology, the manpower—dwarfed anything he'd imagined, even after seeing Castle Iron. This was Ironhart's true heart, a hidden empire thriving beneath the world's surface.
Alex accompanied James and william through rows of humming chambers, glass tanks filled with suspended alloys, and tables where fragments of weapons rested under scanning arms. The sharp tang of chemicals mixed with the faint ozone scent of active machinery. James walked ahead, explaining little, until he finally turned and caught the unsettled look on Alex's face. "Good," James said. "Uneasy means you're still human. It means you haven't gone numb." Alex admitted that it felt as though everyone expected him to just accept everything. James gave a faint laugh. "They were born into this. You weren't. That gap will burn you alive if you don't keep asking questions." Alex asked what would happen if he asked the wrong ones. James tapped one of the consoles, its display flickering with a map of alloy densities. "There are no wrong questions," he replied, "just truths that arrive too early. That can be dangerous." Alex narrowed his eyes, sensing James was holding back. James only said, "Of course I am. My duty isn't to hand you every secret—it's to make sure you survive long enough to learn them."
Alex's senses felt amplified—he caught the faint click of a rifle's safety, the subtle shift of armor plates as a soldier adjusted his stance. The world was too vivid, almost overwhelming.
They entered another chamber, its walls lined with screens and consoles. At the center stood Dr. James, his posture precise, his glasses catching the light. On the table before him lay three items: a phone, a watch, and a knife resting in a sleek sheath.
"How long has this place been here?" he asked
"Longer than I've been alive," James replied, his good hand resting lightly on the window's edge. "It began as a refuge, a fallback during the wars that shaped us. Now it's our nerve center—research, weapons, strategy. Everything we need to maintain our dominion."
The word dominion echoed in Alex's mind, a reminder of the maps he'd seen in his restored memories, nations bending under Ironhart's will. He turned to his father, studying the lines of his face—the scar, the graying hair, the unyielding resolve. "And the attack on you and Mother—did it come from here?"
William's expression hardened, his jaw tightening briefly before he answered. "No. That was external—a miscalculation by fools who thought they could strike us down. They learned their lesson."
Alex's fists clenched at his sides, the fire from his memories flaring anew. "They're gone now?"
"Replaced," William said simply, his tone cold and final. Alex didn't go asking further. He continued looking around. then James called onto him-
and gestured toward a table. "These are prepared for you, Alex."
Alex stepped closer, curiosity mingling with caution.
He picked up the phone first. Its matte black surface pulsed faintly at his touch, a holographic interface rising above the glass. His name appeared in the corner of the display, sharp and clean.
"Biometric-locked," James explained. "Untraceable, unhackable. Direct access to family channels and archives."
Alex nodded slightly, placing it back on the table, and reached for the watch. The sleek band clicked into place as he strapped it onto his wrist. A discreet switch revealed a coin-sized drone, unfolding with a whisper of movement before hovering silently in the air.
"Recon unit," James said. "Thermal, visual, audio. Near invisible to most sensors."
Alex raised an eyebrow, then dismissed the drone with a flick of his wrist. It folded neatly back into the watch.
Finally, he reached for the knife. The sheath was cold against his palm, the weight balanced perfectly. As he drew the blade, it caught the light and shimmered faintly, edges razor-sharp yet impossibly light.
Text flickered before his eyes.
[Item Acquired: Mionium Knife]
[Forged from rare mineral: ultra-durable, lightweight, energy-conductive.]
Alex's breath caught. He glanced at William, voice steady but edged with curiosity. "What's it made of?"
"Mionium," James replied. His gaze lingered on the knife for a moment before returning to Alex. "Rarer than gold, stronger than titanium. That blade is unique. Treat it as such."
Alex turned the knife slowly in his hand, feeling the way it seemed to hum faintly, almost alive. Sylvie's earlier words echoed at the back of his mind—energy-conductive. His father had said nothing of that. He decided not to push, sliding the blade back into its sheath.
That was when the faint pulse of the system returned.
[Quest Available: Open your Status.]
[Objective: Access and review your current condition.]
Alex exhaled quietly. A quest. Simple, blunt. It wasn't some dramatic command—it was an instruction, a nudge.
William's voice broke into his thoughts. "This is only the beginning, Alex. Everything you see, everything you hold—it's preparation. The world outside doesn't forgive weakness."
Alex's gaze flicked from his father to the items on the table, then to the faint quest hovering at the corner of his vision. His hand curled into a fist. For once, he didn't argue. He didn't demand answers.
Because deep down, he understood. Sylvie, the system, even his father—they weren't going to hand him the truth. He would have to earn it, step by step.
And the first step had already been placed in front of him.
[Quest: Open your Status.]
Alex's lips pressed into a thin line