The master suite door sighed shut, sealing Kaelen in a tomb of silent, opulent darkness. The artificial confidence from the Dominion gel was a thin veneer, already cracking under the weight of Cassian's message. The words "she owes us a mother" echoed, not as a brother's shared grief, but as a warden's commandment.
She sank onto the edge of the obsidian bed, the cool surface doing little to quell the tremor in her hands. The System's text, still burned onto her retinas, felt like a brand.
Mission Parameters Updated. Primary Objective: Maintain the established character of Kaelen Blackwood. Secondary Objective: Gain Original Kaelen's Approval. Current Approval: -100%.
The number hit her like a physical blow. Negative one hundred. A perfect void of disapproval. It wasn't just a lack of progress; it was an absolute rejection. Every action, every hesitant thought, every flicker of humanity had been judged and found utterly, completely wanting. She had not only failed to be the monster she was supposed to be; she had become its antithesis in the eyes of the entity that held her leash.
Catastrophic Plot Deviation Analyzed. Hostile interaction with target "Seraphina Vesper" concluded without successful permanent bonding. Character demeanor was antithetical to established parameters. Actions displayed weakness, mercy, and confusion. Core identity compromised. Consequence: Penalty Level 3.
This time, there was no warning jolt. It was a full body seizure.
White hot agony erupted from her spine, arcing through every nerve ending. Her body convulsed, throwing her from the bed onto the cold floor. A silent scream locked in her throat as her muscles contracted violently, her back arching painfully. Her smart lenses flickered erratically, displaying a chaotic stream of error messages and biometric alarms. It was a targeted electrocution, a brutal, internal punishment designed to feel like her very soul was being scoured from the inside out. It lasted an eternity, a ten second hell that left her gasping, twitching, and drenched in a cold sweat on the polished concrete.
Penalty administered. Immediate and severe course correction required.
Tears of pain and sheer, helpless frustration streamed down her face. She curled into a fetal position, choking on ragged breaths. "What… what do you want from me?" she sobbed, the words barely audible.
The System's response was devoid of any emotion, its cold logic more terrifying than any rage.
Analysis: The character "Kaelen Blackwood" is a being of pure, focused hatred. Her mother's death is the core of her existence, and Seraphina Vesper is the living embodiment of that loss. Your actions showing hesitation, offering aid without malice, displaying anything other than contempt are a fundamental desecration of her memory. You are not simply failing a mission; you are spitting on the grave of the only person the original Kaelen loved. Your weakness is an insult. Your approval is negative because you have become everything she despised.
The words were a more effective punishment than the shock. They carved into her, explaining the depth of her failure. It wasn't about plot points; it was about pain. The original Kaelen's pain. And she, the intruder, was trivializing it with her misplaced compassion.
A soft chime echoed from the main penthouse door. Her lenses, still glitching slightly, identified the visitor.
Dr. Elias Theron. Beta. Family Physician. Access: Granted.
Panic surged, cutting through the lingering pain. She had to get up. She had to perform. But her body was a trembling wreck. She fumbled for the Dominion gel dispenser on the nightstand, squeezing a reckless amount onto her wrist and rubbing it into her glands. The artificial wave of dominance that followed was sharper, more manic, a chemical override for her shattered nerves. It made her feel nauseous, but it forced her limbs to stop shaking.
The door to her suite slid open.
Dr. Theron entered, his kind, weary face a mask of professional calm. His eyes took in the living room Sera on the sofa, the discarded bracelet, the empty canister and then landed on Kaelen, who was leaning a little too heavily against the doorframe, her posture rigid with chemically induced control.
"Miss Blackwood," he said, his voice neutral.
Kaelen's mind raced. The original would be furious. Humiliated by her failure. She would deflect, attack. She grasped for the persona, for the hatred the System demanded.
"She's defective," Kaelen spat, the words coming out too harsh, too forced. The gel fueled dominance made her sound unhinged instead of commanding. "Your suppressants are useless. The Heat Surge revealed how weak the Vesper line truly is. Fix it. I won't have damaged goods in my home."
It was a poor imitation. The venom was there, but it was shallow, a performance without the deep, bitter well of hatred to draw from.
Dr. Theron's gaze was piercing. He didn't flinch. He simply looked at her, his eyes noting the sheen of sweat on her temple, the slight tremor in the hand she had clenched at her side, the unnatural dilation of her pupils from the excessive gel.
"Of course," he said, his tone unchanged, but his eyes held a new, deep and unsettling curiosity. He saw the cracks in the performance. He saw the panic behind the chemical aggression.
He moved past her to attend to Sera. Kaelen remained frozen in the doorway, her heart hammering against her ribs.
A new message, cold and final, scrolled across her glitching vision.
Character Inconsistency Detected. Performance lacks authenticity. Attempt to mimic hostility perceived as pathetic and weak.
The number didn't change. It couldn't go any lower. It was a verdict. She was at rock bottom, buried under the absolute contempt of the soul she had displaced. The System had given its final grade on her existence so far: a perfect failure. There was no lower to go, but the consequences for staying here, at negative one hundred percent, were a terrifying, unknown abyss