Consciousness returned not as a light, but as a grid.
Valen was adrift in a void, but it was no longer the empty blackness of the abyss. This was a space of pure information. He was a disembodied observer watching a wireframe model of a human body—his body—suspended in the center of his vision. Red lines of critical error text scrolled past, detailing injuries with a terrifying, dispassionate precision.
[...Internal Hemorrhaging at 87%. Cauterizing ruptured splenic artery.] [...Cerebral pressure at critical levels. Synthesizing and administering neuro-stabilizing compound.] [...Spinal integrity compromised. Fusing C7 vertebrae with carbon-nanofiber lattice.]
He felt it all. Not as pain, but as a series of cold, alien processes. A vibration ran down his spine, a chilling sensation of something being woven into his very bones. A chemical coldness flooded his skull, pushing back the throbbing fire. He felt the bleeding inside him slow, then stop, the ruptured vessels sealed by an invisible, microscopic hand.
This wasn't healing. Healing was a slow, messy, biological process. This was repair. This was assembly. He was a broken machine on a production line, and the Genesis Codex was the master craftsman.
He tried to scream, but he had no mouth. He tried to fight, but he had no limbs. He was a prisoner in the control room of his own body, forced to watch the renovations.
The wireframe model began to change. Red zones flickered and turned amber, then a steady, reassuring green. The list of critical errors vanished, replaced by a new set of directives.
[Phase One: Stabilization Complete. Host Vitals returning to nominal parameters.] [Initiating Phase Two: Structural Reconstruction.]
A new sensation began, deeper and more pervasive. It started in his bones. He felt a strange, itching heat as the Codex broke down his fractured ribs, dissolving the jagged edges and re-knitting them. It was a slow, meticulous process, like a thousand tiny spiders spinning new bone from the inside out.
[Analyzing Host genetic markers. Baseline human physiology sub-optimal.] [Applying Architect Standard augmentation to skeletal structure. Increasing bone density by 34%.]
The itching intensified into a dull, resonant ache. His bones felt heavier, denser, as if being filled with lead.
[Musculature reconstruction in progress. Repairing torn ligaments and muscle fibers.] [Optimizing myomer strands for increased tensile strength and power output. Projected increase: 22%.]
His muscles, limp and torn, began to twitch and contract involuntarily. A low, electric hum coursed through him, a feeling of power being poured into empty vessels. It was agonizing and intoxicating all at once.
Hours passed. Or was it minutes? Time had no meaning in this data stream. All that existed was the process, the constant flow of information and sensation as he was systematically unmade and remade into something stronger. Something better.
Finally, a new message flashed in his perception, brighter than the rest.
[Reconstruction Phase Complete. Rebooting Host consciousness and sensory input.]
The grid, the wireframe, the scrolling text—it all collapsed into a single point of light and then vanished.
Darkness. Silence.
And then, sensation.
The feeling of cold stone beneath his back. The damp, musty smell of ancient air. The faint, rhythmic sound of dripping water. He opened his eyes.
The abyss was as black as he remembered, but his vision was different. The darkness was not absolute. He could see the faint outlines of rocks, the shimmer of the stagnant pool he lay in. It was like seeing the world in shades of faint silver and grey.
A new overlay of information appeared, superimposed over his vision. It was a clean, minimalist interface in the bottom left corner of his sight.
[STATUS] [HOST: VALEN] [CONDITION: STABLE (OPTIMIZED)] [BIOMETRICS: 100%] [SYNC RATE WITH CODEX: 12.7%]
He lifted his hand, the left one, the one that had been a mangled ruin of shattered bone. He flexed his fingers. They moved perfectly, without a trace of pain or stiffness. He balled his hand into a fist, and felt a surge of strength that was utterly alien to him. The bones in his knuckles felt like solid steel.
He sat up. There was no pain. No dizziness. His body moved with a fluid efficiency he had never known. He ran a hand over his torso, feeling the smooth, unbroken line of his ribs beneath his tattered scavenger jacket. He touched the back of his head, where his helmet had cracked. No wound. Not even a scar.
The voice of the Codex returned, as clinical as ever.
[Primary Directive: Ensure Host Survival. Immediate Threat Identified: Environmental Exposure and Starvation.] [Analysis of surroundings complete. Chasm depth: approx. 312 meters.]
A section of the chasm wall to his right was highlighted in a faint blue light, visible only to him. A series of potential handholds and footholds were marked with small, glowing brackets.
[Optimal Egress Route Calculated. Probability of Successful Ascent: 89.4%.] [Recommendation: Begin ascent immediately.]
Valen looked at his new hands. He looked at the glowing path laid out before him on the sheer rock face. The despair, the pain, the feeling of death—it was all gone. Replaced by a cold, humming power and a single, burning purpose that now felt clearer than ever.
The Codex had given him a new body. He would use it to fulfill its mission.
His mission.
Ryker.
Valen stood up, his new, denser bones making almost no sound on the rock, and placed his hand on the first glowing hold. The climb had begun.