[Facility Cafeteria - During Vorn's Recovery Period]
The facility cafeteria buzzed with quiet conversation over lunch trays and coffee cups. Medical staff discussed weekend plans between bites of regulation sandwiches.
Security personnel compared shift rotations. Researchers debated procedural modifications in the careful language of people who knew their conversations might be monitored.
Hajime sat at a corner table, picking at his food while reviewing status reports on his tablet. Three other procedures were scheduled for that afternoon - two routine enhancements for corporate clients, one experimental treatment for a government contractor. Normal business continuing despite the morning's irregularities.
"Master Hajime?" A young technician approached hesitantly. "The Subject 47 readings you requested."
She handed him a data pad showing Vorn's post-procedure metrics. Heart rate variability, neural activity patterns, cellular regeneration markers. Everything looked normal except for the adaptation speed, which kept spiking beyond expected parameters.
"Thank you, Lisa." He glanced at her nameplate. "How long have you been working these procedures?"
"Six months, still learning the patterns." She hesitated. "Is it normal for adaptation rates to fluctuate this much?"
"No. Usually they stabilize within hours of injection." Hajime highlighted several anomalous readings. "This subject seems to be continuing active transformation rather than settling into enhanced baseline.
"At the next table, two security guards were discussing the morning's unusual visitor protocols.
"Third time this month someone's bypassed standard clearance," one muttered into his coffee. "Either our systems are compromised or someone upstairs is playing games."
"Not our problem. We check badges, monitor perimeters, file reports. Politics is above our pay grade, the money they spend for their daily meals can last us for months."
"Tch, still feels wrong. That kid this morning - they stripped half his safety protocols and nobody wants to explain why.
"Lisa glanced over at their conversation, then back at Hajime. "The subject from this morning - he seemed different from our usual clients."
"How so?"
"Most people come in nervous, asking questions about risks and recovery time. He just signed everything and waited. Like he was used to dangerous procedures.
"Hajime's tablet chimed with an incoming message. Priority communication from upper management. He opened it expecting procedure updates or scheduling changes.
Instead, it was a single line: "Suspend all status reports on Subject 47 until further notice.
"No signature, no explanation. Just an order to stop documenting what was arguably their most significant successful transformation in months.
"Lisa, I need you to do something for me." He kept his voice low. "Continue monitoring Subject 47's vitals, but don't log them in the official system. Confidential files only."
"Sir? Is that-"
"It's necessary. There are aspects of this case that aren't being handled through normal channels."
She nodded, understanding the implication without needing it spelled out. In a facility that processed politically sensitive enhancements, unofficial monitoring was sometimes the only way to maintain actual medical oversight.
Across the cafeteria, the security guards had moved on to complaining about maintenance schedules and equipment failures. Normal workplace grievances that felt reassuringly mundane after the morning's tensions.
But in the corner, Hajime deleted the management message and began composing his own report. Someone needed to maintain records of what was happening to Vorn, even if official oversight had been suspended.
The afternoon procedures would continue as scheduled. The facility would maintain its efficient routine. But questions were accumulating about who was really making decisions and what they hoped to accomplish.
Lisa returned to her duties, already planning how to maintain covert medical monitoring. The security guards finished their lunch and prepared for the next shift rotation. Researchers continued their debates about procedural improvements.
And in the recovery wing, Vorn completed his transformation under conditions that someone had deliberately made more dangerous than necessary.
[Recovery Pod - Desert Facility]
Consciousness came back in pieces. First the weight of his body, which felt wrong - heavier in his chest and limbs, lighter in his extremities. Then the sounds: machinery humming, distant conversations, the soft hiss of air circulation.
Vorn sat up slowly, testing his range of motion. His joints moved smoothly, but with more resistance than before. Like his bones had become denser.
He flexed his fingers. The skin was tougher, slightly thicker, but still somehow light. When he breathed, his lungs expanded further than they used to, pulling in more air with each breath.
The door opened and a technician entered, tablet in hand. Middle-aged woman with the careful movements of someone who'd seen transformation procedures go wrong.
"Vitals are stable," she said, checking her readings. "You're cleared for movement."
Vorn swung his legs over the side of the pod. The floor felt different under his feet - he could sense its texture, temperature, even slight vibrations through his enhanced nervous system.
He didn't respond to the technician. Instead, he scanned the room automatically - exits, surveillance points, potential weapons. The information processed faster than it used to.
---
[Testing Chamber - One Hour Later]
The diagnostics were basic. Grip strength, reaction time, mana flow measurements. Standard post-procedure evaluation.
The numbers spiked inconsistently. His reflexes registered as superhuman one moment, merely enhanced the next.
Hajime arrived halfway through testing, watching from the observation window. His expression was unreadable, but his posture suggested concern.
When the tests finished, he entered the chamber.
"You're adapting faster than the protocols account for," he said.
"Then the protocols are outdated."
Hajime didn't argue. Instead, he pulled out his communication device and tried several channels. Each attempt met with silence or automated responses.
"Upper management's gone quiet," he muttered.
"They got their data, don't need to pretend to care anymore."
---
[Preparation Room - Later]
Vorn returned to collect his gear. His artifact clothing had been cleaned and folded neatly on the table beside his personal items.
Under his jacket was a piece of paper that hadn't been there before. Plain white note paper, folded once.
"You're not the only one watching the gate."
No signature, no identification marks, only black ink on white paper.
Vorn pocketed it without expression. Someone had access to secure facility areas and wanted him to know they were monitoring his activities. The note could be a warning, a threat, or information. Without more context, speculation was useless.
---
[Facility Corridors]
Hajime was reviewing procedure reports when Vorn approached.
"I want out," Vorn said. "I need to test this properly."
"You're not cleared for combat operations. Your enhancement is still unstable."
"I'm not looking for combat. I'm looking for pressure."
Hajime set down his tablet and studied him. Around them, facility staff continued their routines - other procedures, administrative tasks, the normal operations of a place that processed human enhancement requests daily.
"Where would you go?"
"That's my concern."
"If anything goes wrong, don't expect backup. We're not running a rescue service."
"Understood."
Hajime nodded reluctantly. "Fine. Transport's arranged. You have forty-eight hours before we expect a status report."
---
[Remote Coastal Area - Next Day]
The hidden dungeon entrance looked exactly the same. Overgrown vegetation, natural stone formations that concealed artificial architecture. No signs of disturbance since his last visit.
But approaching it now felt different. His enhanced senses picked up energy patterns he'd missed before - mana flows that extended deeper underground, structural resonances that suggested the dungeon was much larger than the entrance indicated.
The warning gate was still there, sealed with symbols that seemed to shift slightly when he looked directly at them. His instincts still screamed danger, but the sensation was clearer now. Not just fear - analytical assessment of genuine threat.
He stood at the threshold for several minutes, testing his new perceptions against the environment. Heart rate steady. Breathing controlled. Enhanced nervous system cataloging data about temperature, humidity, air pressure, electromagnetic fields.
'Time to see what this is about.'
He stepped inside.
The first chamber was exactly as he remembered - low-level monsters, crystalline formations, manageable threats. But his enhanced awareness picked up details he'd missed before.
The goblin that attacked him moved predictably. Its muscle tension, balance shifts, attack patterns all registered in his consciousness before the creature completed its first movement.
He dispatched it with a single strike - not because he was dramatically stronger, but because he could read its intentions clearly enough to respond with perfect timing and placement.
'Enhanced processing speed. Threat assessment accelerated.'
Deeper in the dungeon, the monsters were slightly more challenging. Cave trolls, acid spitters, creatures that had given him genuine difficulty during his first visit.
Now they felt slow. Not physically slower, but predictable. His enhanced senses tracked their movements, analyzed their attack patterns, identified vulnerabilities with mechanical precision.
'Not just stronger, better than ever.'
He reached the sealed gate without breaking pace. Up close, the warnings were clearer - inscriptions in multiple languages describing dangers that lurked beyond. Ancient seals designed to contain something that posed genuine risk to prepared adventurers.
'Hmm, If those people know about this place then why haven't they authorized ownership publicly.'
He turned and walked back toward the entrance. The return journey took half the time, his enhanced physiology requiring no recovery period from the minor exertion.
Outside, evening was settling over the coastal area. In the distance, city lights began appearing as the day shift ended and people returned home to families and normal concerns.
Vorn pulled out the anonymous note and read it again by fading daylight.
'Someone else is watching this place. Question is whether they're monitoring the dungeon or monitoring me.'
He folded the paper and started the walk back to the main road. Tomorrow he'd return to the facility for debriefing. Tonight, he needed to think about what he'd learned.
His transformation was complete, but understanding was lacking.