Just like that, hours passed.
Time stretched in the quiet sterility of the room, counted only by the faint hissing of unseen ventilation systems and the occasional soft beep from behind the walls.
Emanuel had returned once during that time, clipboard in hand, eyes already gleaming with anticipation.
"The others are progressing," he had said, almost like a proud father. "Two more have accessed their systems and can now activate their skills."
Sym had nodded, feigning a touch of surprise, a slight lift of the brows, just enough to look impressed, but not threatened.
Then, finally, he gave them what they wanted.
"I accessed mine too," Sym said evenly.
Emanuel's reaction was immediate; he brightened like a bulb, the lines around his mouth smoothing into a wide smile.
"That's excellent, Thirty-Three. Very good. You're right on schedule." He stepped closer, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "Tell me, what did you find? What's your skill?"
Sym hesitated, just long enough to make it seem real. Then he shrugged.
"Something basic," he said. "It boosts my body. Reflexes, speed, that kind of thing. Probably just meant to help me survive longer."
Emanuel nodded thoughtfully, scribbling notes.
"Not uncommon for Faux Skills," he mused aloud. "The system aligns with your psyche, your instincts, and some say, your fate. Maybe it sees you as a survivor. That's not a bad thing."
Sym said nothing.
"Can you activate it?" Emanuel asked, adjusting his glasses. "Even partially? Sometimes just attempting to do so can help the system synchronize further."
Sym considered it. And this time, he answered honestly:
"I haven't tried."
Emanuel arched a brow.
"I wanted to make sure I was stable first," Sym added.
Emanuel gave a short chuckle. "Prudent. But the sooner you try, the better. The system adapts through interaction."
That was true enough.
But what Sym didn't say, what he had never said, was that he didn't trust the cameras.
Ancient-looking though they were, he didn't believe for a moment that the eyes of this place were as crude as their exteriors suggested.
Every flicker of breath was likely monitored. Every micro-expression catalogued.
He'd wanted to stay hidden.
But now?
Now it was time to move.
He stood slowly from his bed.
Emanuel stepped back slightly, giving him space, his expression sharpening with curiosity.
The room felt colder somehow, with a tinge of heaviness.
Sym's hands flexed at his sides. He took a breath.
Inside, he gave the signal.
"Sage."
"Standing by."
"I want to try activating [Boost]. Monitor everything. Hold me steady if it goes wrong."
"Understood. Preparing neural bracing."
Sym exhaled and let go.
He reached inward, toward the pulse he had felt only in flickers.
Toward the small rice-sized gem in his consciousness.
It wasn't like flipping a switch. It was more like uncoiling something that had been asleep beneath the surface of his skin.
A warmth began to spread through his chest, slow at first, then rising fast, like a fire with too much fuel.
[Boost] – Activating...
The interface flared open in his mind's eye, text shifting rapidly, a hum behind his eyes like the surge of rising voltage.
He gasped, just once, but kept his posture steady.
Before him, Emanuel watched with sharp, predator-like interest.
"Yes," the man said softly. "Now we begin."
As the [Boost] skill activated, it was as if something inside Sym detonated.
A hum began in his chest, like the low purr of a reactor core. It surged upward, radiating out into his limbs, his spine, his skin.
Every nerve fired at once with pressure. Intensity. Like his body had been wrapped in invisible coils, and now the bindings had been released.
A pale blue aura burst from his skin, flaring outward in a gentle pulse. It surrounded him like mist, clinging and shifting, alive with quiet motion before turning into a layer surrounding his whole body. It wasn't just light, it was weight, presence, power.
Sym inhaled, and his lungs drank in the air like they had never been full before. Every fiber of his being felt... amplified.
His senses sharpened, the texture of the floor under his feet, the sound of Emanuel's coat shifting, the faint buzz of a dying light in the corner of the room.
Everything was louder, clearer, slower.
He could feel strength rising in his muscles, his heart pounding with a rhythm that felt mechanical in its precision.
"Fascinating," Emanuel said, circling him like a hawk. He watched the light-blue shimmer flickering across Sym's body. "How do you feel?"
Sym grinned, just enough to look engaged, not arrogant.
"Strong."
But inside, his thoughts were racing.
"Sage. Report."
"Your strength, reflexes, and endurance have increased by approximately 170%. Current performance exceeds standard human limitations by a significant margin. You are now classified within superhuman physical thresholds."
Sym's eyes narrowed, his excitement tempered by awe.
"This… this is different," he whispered internally. "Even our old exosuits didn't feel this clean. This integrated."
But Sage wasn't finished.
"There is a secondary issue. A corruptive signal, non-physical, has latched onto the consciousness gem. It is attempting to breach it. Do I have permission to eliminate it?"
Sym tensed, but only slightly.
"Do it."
Inside his mind, he felt a flicker, like a glitch in a dream. Something sharp was being burned away, severed from the edges of his mind like a parasite ripped from flesh.
It didn't hurt. But it made him annoyed.
A system that granted power and seeded it with rot?
Was this the cost of synthetic evolution? Would he always have to guard his mind from the tool meant to save him?
He watched the aura crackle for a moment, then settle, steady but alive.
"Was that truly the price of being Faux?" he asked Sage.
"Possibly. The source remains unknown. But I can counter it. I will protect the integrity of your conscious core. As long as I exist, corruption cannot overtake you."
Sym nodded to himself, a faint flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Then I'm not cursed. Not really. Not if I have you.
His excitement returned, deep in his mind, where no one could see.
He wasn't just surviving.
He was becoming something more.
As Sage neutralized the invasive signal, the warmth in Sym's chest cooled.
The aura around his body faded like mist at sunrise, evaporating back into nothing.
His limbs still tingled, residual energy flowing through him like the aftershocks of adrenaline, but he stood tall, breathing steadily.
He clutched the side of his head, then winced; he didn't feel pain,but the act served the role.
"Ah," he muttered aloud, as if surprised. "My head... feels tight. Pressure."
Emanuel, who had been scribbling rapidly on his clipboard, looked up. His expression softened slightly into a mask of professional concern.
"Feedback," he said, nodding knowingly. "It's not uncommon with Faux Skills. You're tapping into power your body wasn't meant to carry. There are risks, strain, mental exhaustion, sometimes... worse. You need to be careful."
Sym gave a slow nod, eyes half-lidded, playing the exhausted soldier. "Got it. I'll go slow."
"That was more than enough for today," Emanuel said, stepping back toward the door. "You've shown excellent control, better than expected, honestly."
The compliment was hollow. Sym could hear the subtext: You've proven you're not a failure. For now.
"You'll start joining the others soon," Emanuel added. "The common area and cafeteria are now accessible. Better food, more movement. It should help with adaptation."
Sym nodded once, casually. "Thanks. When do I leave this place?"
Emanuel stopped with one hand on the door's edge.
"In a few days," he said. "You'll be formally introduced to the faction's owner. The leader. After that, you'll be cleared to leave. But don't forget several days a week, you're scheduled to return to HQ."
Sym nodded again, slower this time. "Yeah. I remember. Contract stuff."
"Good." Emanuel gave a final glance over his shoulder. "Rest, and explore your skill more later if you're up to it. Knock on the door if you feel like you need assistance, or just yell really loud or something."
The door slid closed behind him, sealing Sym once again in the solitude of soft blue light and humming walls.
He moved back to the bed, the weight of the day settling over his shoulders like a dense fog. As he lay down, he felt Sage receding, quiet, observant, waiting.
He stared at the ceiling.
Faux. Feedback. Corruption.
He closed his eyes and let the quiet settle.
Soon, he would walk the halls beyond this room. See the others. Measure them.
Soon, he would meet the leader.