The morning at the temporary stronghold was torn apart by the roar of helicopter rotors.
Three military Black Hawks hovered above the rooftop, their downdrafts whipping the warning flags around the base and fraying the nerves of everyone inside. Liam had just finished his routine checkup following the gene adaptation, and the medical pod's alert tone had barely faded when he heard Kane's heavy footsteps approaching from the end of the corridor. The coolness of the medical pod lingered on his fingertips, but his body still throbbed with the scorching power of 20% activation—the shackle he had fought so hard to break, the freedom earned through countless painful gene edits and scars from rainforest battles. Yet an inexplicable unease crept wildly in his heart, as if something was about to tear away this hard-won freedom.
"Military's here. High rank," Kane said in a low voice, his gaze flicking to the faint energy patterns still lingering on Liam's neck. "They want to see you. Now."
Liam lifted the lid of the medical pod, his fingertips brushing the cool metal edge, his grip tightening unconsciously. He knew all too well that the battle to break through 20% the previous night, and the near-disaster when his energy ran wild and almost harmed civilians, had already been delivered to the desks of top military officials via FBI reports. The military had never tolerated "uncontrollable" power—he should have seen this day coming. But when it finally arrived, an indescribable resistance surged in his chest. He was not a weapon, not an experiment to be manipulated at will. Yet behind him stood everything he wanted to protect, and he had no capital to resist.
The lab door slid open. A general with three stars on his collar stepped in, followed by two agents in black tactical gear, carrying a silver metal case. The general's gaze was sharp as a blade, locking directly onto Liam without any pleasantries, and he handed over a folder. That gaze, cold and impersonal, as if examining an object, made Liam's hair stand on end, and his resistance deepened.
"Liam Coste, effective immediately, you are assigned to the Symbiote Special Operations Task Force, under the direct command of the Pentagon Strategic Command," the general's voice carried unchallengeable authority. "This is the cooperation agreement. Sign it."
Liam took the folder, his fingers trembling slightly as he flipped through it quickly. The core terms were clear and cold: the military would provide an abandoned military base, follow-up research funding, and a global intelligence network. In return—brain-computer interface (BCI) technology would be prioritized for military application, symbiote gene data would be shared, and he must wear a military-developed "Energy Suppression Collar" with his activation level permanently restricted to 18%.
18%.
Those three words stabbed at Liam's heart like a cold dagger. He clenched the folder almost instantly, his knuckles turning white, as anger and unwillingness roared in his chest. He had just broken through 20% and completed full-body gene adaptation—enduring the agony of myocardial damage, gene rejection, and the near-death struggles in the rainforest—all to break free from his shackles. Now, the military wanted to knock him back to where he started, even worse than before. 18% would not only halt all his evolutionary progress and make him feel the helplessness of insufficient power again, but also plunge him back into the fear of "being unable to protect anyone."
"18%?" Elena looked up from the equipment, disbelief in her eyes. "He just broke through 20% and completed full-body gene adaptation. 18% will reverse all his evolutionary progress, even trigger gene collapse!"
"This is a safety measure," the general said flatly, opening the silver case to reveal a black collar inlaid with tiny β-7 crystal fragments. "Last night, your energy ran wild and pierced three layers of concrete. If not for timely suppression, the entire block would have been devastated. We cannot allow an uncontrolled 'weapon' to exist without restraint."
He paused, his tone turning icy. "Resist, and it will be deemed treason. Everyone in this stronghold will be labeled accomplices and tried by military court."
A deathly silence fell over the lab. Dr. Gray clenched his test report, his knuckles white; Wang instinctively reached for his weapon, but Kane stopped him with a glance. Liam's gaze swept over his comrades, and the anger in his heart gradually gave way to helplessness. He was not afraid of the charge of treason or the military's sanctions, but he could not drag them down—Elena was still striving for BCI and gene evolution, Dr. Gray was sticking to his medical post, Kane was protecting the team, the children of the rainforest tribe were waiting for the hope Marcos would bring back, and the civilians of Washington were enjoying peace in ignorance.
If he resisted, everyone would die. If he compromised, there would still be a chance to continue the research, a chance to use his 18% power to keep fighting the Reapers and protecting them.
It was a silent war in his heart, a tug-of-war between unwillingness and responsibility. In the end, responsibility outweighed all resistance. Liam slowly loosened his grip on the folder, which was already crumpled at the edges. He took a deep breath, suppressing all the turmoil in his chest, and his gaze regained its firmness.
"I'll sign," Liam said calmly, his voice unshakable. Only he knew how much unwillingness and forbearance lay behind those three words.
He picked up the pen and signed his name at the end of the agreement. The scratch of the nib on paper echoed sharply in the silent lab. Each stroke felt like drawing a shackle around his freedom, each stroke like planting a seed of rebellion in his compromise. Looking at his signature, he thought of the battles in the rainforest, the pain of gene editing, and the light when he broke through 20%. He swore silently in his heart: this was only temporary. He would break free from this shackle, take back control of his own power, and never be manipulated by anyone again.
The general nodded in satisfaction and signaled the agents forward.
Cold metal pressed against his neck, and the collar locked automatically with a soft click. A faint but stubborn energy surged into his body instantly, like countless fine needles piercing his energy channels. Liam stiffened, his brows furrowing tightly, as a sharp sense of helplessness washed over him. He could clearly feel the surging symbiotic energy inside him being forcibly suppressed. His 20% activation level receded like a tide—19%, 18.5%, 18%—finally stabilizing at the military-set threshold, unable to rise any further.
[Warning! External energy suppression device detected. Host activation level forcibly locked at 18%. Energy output efficiency reduced by 30%. Gene adaptation process suspended.] The AI's prompt echoed in his mind, carrying a mechanical sense of helplessness, as if echoing his current mood.
Liam raised his hand, his fingertips gently touching the collar around his neck. The cold metal felt like a brand, a constant reminder of his predicament. He tried to gather energy, only to find that an energy spear that once formed effortlessly now required twice the effort, and the range of his Energy Domain had shrunk by half. The feeling of having his power torn away was more painful than any physical wound—as if he had returned to the days when he first activated the symbiote, trapped by the shackle of his heart, small and powerless.
Yet he did not bow his head, his gaze remaining firm. So what if it was 18%? Even with his power restricted, even with a shackle around his neck, he would not stop. The BCI research was not yet complete, the cross-species gene research had only just begun, Hale's remnants were still at large, and so many people needed his protection. He could not fall, and he would not fall.
"Good," the general said, putting away the agreement. "In three days, a military transport convoy will arrive to relocate all research equipment and personnel to an abandoned military base on the outskirts of Washington. That will be your new research and combat base. We will provide all necessary support, but remember—all your achievements belong to the military."
He turned to leave, but paused at the door and looked back at Liam. "Don't try to break the collar. It's connected to your neural center. Forced removal will trigger immediate neural shock, even brain death. Cooperate, and you'll be a hero of humanity. Otherwise, you're just an out-of-control test subject."
The general's figure disappeared through the door, and the roar of the helicopters gradually faded. In the lab, everyone's eyes were on Liam, filled with worry and guilt.
"I'm sorry. We couldn't protect you," Kane said, walking up to him, his voice low.
Liam shook his head and forced a faint smile, hiding the unwillingness in his eyes, leaving only gentleness and firmness. "It's not your fault. 18% is enough for us to do many things." He did not want to worry his comrades, nor did he want his emotions to affect the subsequent research and relocation. He knew that his compromise now was for a better chance to break free later, to protect everything around him.
He walked to the lab window, looking out at the waking city. Sunlight broke through the clouds, spilling onto the streets where pedestrians hurried by. No one knew that a crisis capable of destroying the block had been quietly resolved the night before, nor did they know that the man who protected them was now wearing a shackle, falling back into bondage. His desire to protect burned brighter in his heart. He thought of the people harmed by the Reapers, the children in the rainforest tribe longing for health, and the comrades fighting beside him. All his unwillingness turned into motivation to move forward.
Elena walked up to him and handed over a test report. "The collar's suppression is strong, but not unbreakable. I just scanned its structure—the β-7 crystals are arranged in a pattern. If we can crack the energy frequency, we might find a way to loosen it. Also, the gene adaptation is only suspended, not reversed. Once the suppression is lifted, you can return to 20%."
"Also," she paused, lowering her voice, "I checked the data on the abandoned military base the military is providing. There's a sealed lab on the third basement level, once used for top-secret BCI research. We might find the equipment we need there, even… early data on symbiotes."
Liam took the report, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the collar's energy spectrum. Elena's words were like a beam of light, illuminating his heart shrouded by the shackle. He knew this was not the end, but a new beginning. The collar was a shackle, but also an opportunity—the military's resources, the base's equipment, and a broader intelligence network would all fuel their research, becoming the foundation for him to break free.
And he needed to hone his power under the 18% restriction, continue advancing BCI and gene evolution research, accumulate strength, and keep breaking through. Until the day he could personally break this shackle, truly control his own power, no longer be controlled by anyone, and truly fulfill his original intention of protecting peace.
Just then, Wang ran in, his face grave. "Liam, Dr. Elena, look at this."
He held up a tablet, the screen showing encrypted surveillance footage. After they defeated Hale's remnants the previous night, a blurred figure had snuck into the lab and copied part of the gene adaptation data. The silhouette of that figure bore an eerie resemblance to Evan, the new AI expert.
"Evan?" Dr. Gray frowned. "He only joined the team yesterday. How could he…"
Liam's gaze fixed on the screen, his fingers tightening slightly. A faint stinging sensation came from the collar around his neck, as if reminding him that the crisis was never far away. The military's collar, the lurking spy, Hale's remnants, unknown conspiracies—one crisis after another, overwhelming. Yet he did not panic; his resolve grew stronger.
He had been in more difficult situations—enduring gene rejection, fighting for his life in the rainforest, feeling the joy of breaking free from shackles, and the unwillingness of being trapped again. These experiences had made him tough and strong. No matter how many thorns lay ahead, no matter how many shackles and conspiracies, he would not flinch. Because behind him, there was everything he wanted to protect, and comrades fighting alongside him.
He took a deep breath, looked at his comrades, and his eyes rekindled with firm resolve, his voice steady and powerful, dispelling the worry in everyone's hearts. "Prepare for relocation," he said. "In three days, we move to the new base. No matter how many shackles, how many conspiracies, we will keep going."
Sunlight streamed through the window onto his face. The black collar around his neck glinted coldly in the light, but it could not dim the sharpness in his eyes.
18% activation was only temporary.
Shackles would eventually be broken.
And their research, their fight, had only just begun.