Light pressed against my eyelids—not warmth, not comfort, just a sterile brightness forcing its way through the dark. My body felt wrong, stiff and heavy, like rusted machinery trying to remember how to function. Even breathing felt unfamiliar, as if my lungs had forgotten their purpose. When I tried to sit up, pain flared across my forehead and a dull thunk echoed in the confined space around me. My skull had struck glass.
My vision swam, blurred and milky, as though I were staring through dirty water. I lifted a trembling hand and pressed it forward, meeting a cold, smooth surface that separated me from the world beyond. Shapes shifted on the other side—distorted silhouettes warped by the stained pane. Two figures stood there holding something long and metallic, their faces obscured by glare and shadow. Overhead lights reflected faintly against their equipment, turning them into faceless outlines.
Their voices filtered through the barrier, muted and distant. "Subject is showing signs of stability. However, no sign of the injection taking effect." The words were clinical, detached, spoken as though I were a malfunctioning device rather than a person. After a brief pause, a third silhouette approached and pressed a hand flat against the glass in front of my face. The outline of fingers hovered inches from mine. "Classify him as Subject 00 then. The injection should have taken effect immediately… classify him as—"
A violent hiss cut the sentence short.
The floor beneath me vanished.
For a split second there was no sense of direction, no up or down, and then gravity seized me. I dropped into darkness, swallowed whole. My stomach lurched into my throat as I was funneled downward through a narrow tube, my body scraping against smooth walls while air roared past my ears. My shoulder struck something hard; my back followed. The descent felt endless, though in truth it lasted only seconds.
Then came light—blinding, white, merciless.
I shot out of the chute and slammed onto solid ground, momentum carrying me forward until I skidded to a stop. My legs buckled beneath me, stiff and unresponsive as they absorbed the impact. For a moment, all I could do was breathe.
When my vision steadied, I realized I wasn't alone.
Fifteen others stood scattered across the vast white room, all around my age. Some paced nervously. Some whispered in low, anxious tones. Others stared at the chute I had just fallen from as if expecting another body to emerge. Slowly, their attention shifted toward me.
"Looks like the last one made it," someone said.
The voice came from my left. A petite girl stepped forward from the group, her small frame at odds with the quiet confidence in her movements. Her eyes were calm—too calm—and she carried herself with a certainty that suggested she understood more than the rest of us. Before I could protest, she slipped an arm under mine and lifted me effortlessly to my feet. She wasn't straining; it felt as though she were hoisting something weightless.
"Here," she said evenly, steadying me. "Better to stand with the rest of us than kneeling on the ground."
My legs trembled, but they held. In the middle of sterile white light, surrounded by strangers and unanswered questions, her presence was the first solid thing I'd felt since waking—and somehow that steadiness unsettled me more than the fall.
As I found my balance, I became acutely aware that everyone was watching me—not casually, but expectantly, as though I had walked in late to a meeting already in progress. The silence stretched thin between us until someone near the back spoke up.
"I'm guessing you got injected too?" His tone was flat, almost clinical. "Do you know what your Ultimate is yet?"
Ultimate. The word felt foreign, heavy in my thoughts. Was that something I was supposed to understand? All I remembered was the tube, the glass, the needle.
My gaze dropped to my arm.
The sight turned my stomach. The injection site had been torn open, the puncture ripped wider than it should have been. Blood ran freely down my forearm, dripping from my fingertips in slow, steady taps against the white floor. I hadn't even noticed the pain until now. It arrived all at once—sharp, burning, real. I clutched my arm instinctively, pressing down to stem the flow, but it continued seeping between my fingers.
Footsteps approached. "Here. Let me."
The voice carried irritation rather than concern. A tall boy with sharp green eyes grabbed my wrist before I could respond. His grip was firm, almost punishing, as though my bleeding were an inconvenience to him personally. He pulled my arm outward and began wrapping it tightly in clean white cloth. The fabric was soft, but his movements were not. The pressure made my vision flicker, and by the time he finished, crimson was already soaking through the bandage.
"Try not to move it for the next two days," he said coolly. "The bleeding should stop within the hour." It wasn't a suggestion. His eyes lingered on me briefly, assessing, before he turned away to tend to the others.
That was when I noticed the rest of it. Blood dotted the floor around every drop chute—small crimson droplets, smears, handprints, thin trails leading away. This room hadn't begun white. It had been cleaned. Reset. The realization crawled beneath my skin. Why hadn't I seen it immediately? Why did everything feel like it was revealing itself in layers?
"Don't worry about him," the petite girl said, stepping beside me again. "He's been like that since we got here." She extended her hand. "Sora Kurogane. The people upstairs called me 'The Ultimate Dojo Fighter.'"
Her tone was calm, steady. I took her hand, and her grip closed around mine with controlled strength. It was iron—precise, deliberate, powerful enough to remind me of my own fragility without causing actual pain. She was showing me exactly how strong she was. I forced a small smile in return.
"So," she asked gently, releasing my hand, "what's your name? If I may be so bold."
"My name is—" The words caught in my throat. My mind reached for it, scrambled desperately through fog and static, but found nothing. Panic prickled at the edges of my thoughts. What is my name? Did I ever have one?
The silence grew heavy, whispers stirring among the others. A tall boy near the center of the group stepped forward, his posture confident, commanding without invitation.
"If you can't provide us with your name," he said evenly, "we'll call you Subject 16." His gaze held mine. "Either remember… or accept it."
The words settled over me like a verdict. Before I could protest—before I could invent something on the spot—a piercing ring exploded inside my skull. It wasn't just me. Everyone staggered, hands flying to their ears as if we had all been struck by the same violent surge of tinnitus.
Then a voice filled the room, smooth and amplified, echoing from no discernible source.
"Good morning, Subjects."
The ringing faded enough for us to hear clearly. "My name is Dr. Leo. I will be overseeing your testing over the coming months." No one spoke. No one dared.
"As you are all aware, you volunteered for this program in pursuit of self-improvement. In pursuit of significance. In pursuit of becoming someone worthy of being called… an Ultimate."
A ripple moved through the group. Some straightened with pride; others exhaled in relief.
"However," his tone shifted, colder now, "such evolution does not come without consequences."
A soft hiss filled the chamber as cold mist poured from hidden vents in the ceiling, sweeping across the floor and dissolving every trace of blood. The room started to become immaculate once more. Lights flickered beside each drop chute, illuminating sleek panels embedded in the walls. Titles Appeared. Percentages showed themselves.
I turned slowly, reading them as they stabilized: "Ultimate Biochemist — 73% Stability." "Ultimate Strategist — 92% Stability." "Ultimate Dojo Fighter — 65% Stability." I saw Sora's jaw tighten almost imperceptibly at her number.
Then the panel beside my chute flickered violently before settling.
"Subject 16 — Ultimate: Classification Pending.""Stability: 48%."
It was the lowest in the room.
"As you can see," Dr. Leo continued, "your assigned Ultimates are displayed beside your entry points and will remain there for the duration of the experiment. Beneath them is your current Stability."
The mist cleared entirely, leaving nothing but spotless white.
"Should your Stability fall to zero percent… you will be removed. Maintain emotional neutrality. Avoid stress. Avoid anger. Avoid despair."
The lights dimmed slightly.
"Remain useful."
Silence swallowed the room...
Then someone spoke up.
"How can we raise our stability" a young girl spoke up, her dark blue hair lighting up as she spoke. however an odd thing is that she purposefully kept her voice quite as she spoke.
"The Ultimate Vocalist, good question. there is 3 ways to raise your Stability, you can either use the injector we will provide you as a last resort. you can connect with the other test subject for a slight increase..." Dr. Leo's voice went quite for what can only be described as a painfully amount of time before he spoke up again
"Or... you can eliminate other test subjects"
as if on cue everyone's Stability percentage went down with a soft ping that echoed in the room. no one could say it. no one wanted to say it. the room was silent then after what felt like an eternity that tall guy spoke up.
"what do you mean eliminate the other test subjects? like we kill them to keep our stability up? Why would we do that just for it to go back down again? why wouldn't we just want to connect with everyone"
And just like that that ping was heard again this time rising the percental with the group, they all looked at each other with relieve as if they knew what their answers were going to be with each other. a moment of silence filled the room again, why is he taking so long to respond... why is there silence that fills the space when there should be none.
"Perhaps I forgot to clarify. You can Eliminate other test subjects. and If you do so successfully without being revealed to the rest of the subjects during the "Evaluation Protocol" you alone will obtain an injection that will allow you full control over your ultimate without needing to worry about the risk's of stability"
everyone looked around that ping was heard again... we all know that was dread setting in. some didn't even bother to look at their stability percentage they just knew that it went down.
"Now to fully adapt to your lifestyles we have went ahead and added living chambers for you as well as rooms filled with different forms of entertainment, Food will be provided at 1000 and 1700 but only for a limited time so don't miss it."
One of the empty walls began to rise and yellow lights lit up on the ground blinking and moving forward.
"Please follow the Emergency lights that have lit up on the ground, these will lead you to the main chamber, once there you are all able to do as you see fit."
no one dared to move. we were all stunned after hearing what would happen if we got away with murder.
Until eventually someone spoke.
"So what? There's no way we would all want to kill each other."
The voice carried across the sterile room, confident enough that the murmuring among the subjects died almost immediately. The man who spoke lifted his gaze toward the ceiling as if addressing a speaker that didn't exist. He stepped forward, positioning himself slightly ahead of the others so everyone could see him clearly.
The overhead lights reflected faintly off the polished floor, and above each of us hovered a projection—thin, pale blue text suspended in the air like a digital label. Every subject had one. They appeared the moment we woke up, hovering just above shoulder level whenever we looked at each other.
Name.
Ultimate.
Stability.
I glanced up at the one floating beside the man now speaking.
Ultimate Negotiator
Stability — 98%
"So let's think about this for a second," he continued, turning slightly so his voice reached everyone gathered in the chamber. "All we need to do is keep our stability up by cooperating with each other. No paranoia. No panic. Just cooperation."
He spread his hands slightly as if presenting the idea to the room.
"No room for doubt," he added calmly. "Am I right in saying that?"
For a moment nobody answered.
But then a soft sound echoed around the chamber.
Ping.
Another followed.
Ping.
And another.
Several stability projections shifted upward by one or two percent.
I watched it happen in real time. The numbers flickered slightly, adjusting themselves as the tension in the room eased. The Negotiator wasn't just talking—he was calming people down.
I didn't think much about him stepping into a leadership role. Someone was bound to do it eventually. In a situation like this people naturally gravitated toward whoever sounded the most certain.
The girl beside me clearly disagreed.
She folded her arms tightly across her chest, her expression twisting into something between irritation and outright disgust. It was the kind of look someone gave when they believed the person speaking had just said something incredibly stupid.
The Negotiator continued moving through the room, speaking to different subjects in small bursts of conversation. Each time he did, the same sound echoed again.
Ping.
Another stability increase.
He had a way of talking that made people breathe easier. I could see shoulders relaxing, hear voices lowering. Even the guy near the wall who had looked ready to bolt a few minutes ago seemed calmer now.
Eventually the Negotiator turned toward the hallway that stretched beyond the chamber. Yellow emergency lights lined the floor, glowing softly against the sterile metal as they guided the path forward.
"Well," he said with a small shrug, "standing here isn't going to help anyone."
Without waiting for a response, he started walking.
A few people followed immediately.
Others hesitated before trailing behind him.
I stayed near the back of the group, watching the stability projections above everyone's heads shift slightly as emotions fluctuated. It was strange seeing numbers measure people like that, like we were all part of some statistical model.
Just as I started to follow the others down the corridor, someone grabbed my arm.
The grip was tighter than necessary.
I turned.
Sora.
Her fingers were trembling slightly where they clutched my sleeve.
"Hey… that guy…" she started, her voice uncertain. She hesitated like she expected me to mock her for asking the question.
"You didn't believe him, right?" she finally said.
I raised an eyebrow.
She glanced down the hallway where the Negotiator was now speaking to another small cluster of subjects.
"He wants us to cooperate," she said quietly, "but in a place where we're promised perfect Ultimates… is it really a good idea to trust everyone?"
Up close I could see the strain in her expression. For someone who looked like she could break a brick wall with her bare hands, fear was creeping through her faster than she probably wanted to admit.
A soft chime echoed behind us.
Ping.
Her projection flickered.
Ultimate Dojo Fighter
Stability — 50%
Dropping.
Fast.
Without thinking about it, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her.
Not tightly. Just enough to steady her.
"Isn't it better to believe we can work together?" I said quietly. "That way we don't have to spend every second worrying about dying from some stupid side effect."
For a moment she didn't move.
Then—
Ping.
Her stability rose slightly.
I stepped back and released her.
She blinked a few times before letting out a small breath and offering a hesitant smile.
"I guess…"
But the smile didn't last long. She glanced back toward the Negotiator again.
"I'm still keeping my eye on him," she said. "I don't like the way he convinced everyone with just a few simple words."
That was fair.
Together we continued down the hallway.
The yellow emergency lights guided us deeper into the facility until the corridor opened into a larger chamber. Just as the last of us stepped inside, the room suddenly began to shift.
Walls moved.
Panels slid across the floor with mechanical precision.
Entire sections of the structure rearranged themselves as if the building were reshaping its internal layout in real time. Some hallways sealed shut while others opened up, revealing spaces that hadn't been visible moments before.
The movement continued for nearly thirty seconds before finally stopping.
When everything settled, only one hallway remained accessible.
The dormitories.
Our living quarters.
People began spreading out immediately, searching for their assigned rooms. Each door was clearly labeled with glowing text that matched the projections floating beside us.
I walked slowly down the hallway, passing several doors as I went.
Ultimate Pyrokinetic
Ultimate Strategist
Ultimate Data Savant
Eventually I found mine.
Subject 16
The door to the left of mine read:
Ultimate Card Master
And the one to the right displayed:
Ultimate Vocalist
The three of us exchanged a brief glance in the hallway—nothing more than quiet acknowledgment—before we each stepped into our own rooms. The moment I crossed the threshold, the brightness hit me like a flashbang.
The room wasn't just well lit.
It was white.
Pure white.
The walls.
The bed.
The desk.
The shelves.
Even the furniture looked like it had been dipped in paint. The mirror mounted on the wall had been completely covered over with a thick coat of white, leaving no reflection at all. The only thing in the entire room that wasn't white was a tablet sitting on the desk. Next to it sat a syringe filled with silver liquid.
I picked it up carefully. The fluid inside was thick, almost metallic. It shifted slowly when I tilted the syringe, reflecting the room's harsh lighting in strange ways. It didn't look natural. After a moment I slipped it into the cargo pocket of my pants and picked up the tablet. The screen activated instantly. The brightness nearly blinded me again. Then text appeared.
WELCOME 09-23-4A
THE ULTIMATE NOBODY
I stared at the screen.
"The Ultimate Nobody?" I muttered.
"That… can't be right."
The tablet shifted to another screen before I could question it further.
PROJECT ASCENSION
EXPERIMENT PROTOCOLS
I leaned closer to the screen.
If this place expected us to survive here… then these rules were probably the closest thing we had to a manual.
The tablet began listing them one by one.
PROTOCOL 1 — FACILITY CONTAINMENT
All subjects must remain within the Ascension Facility.
All external doors, elevators, and access points are sealed. These systems cannot be opened through force or sabotage.
Attempts to breach containment will trigger automated countermeasures.
Escape from the facility is not possible.
PROTOCOL 2 — STABILITY MONITORING
Each subject possesses a Stability Percentage, representing the integrity of their Ultimate integration.
Stability will gradually decrease over time.
Stability loss may accelerate due to:
• emotional distress
• psychological instability
• physical overexertion
• prolonged proximity to other unstable subjects
If a subject's Stability reaches 0%, serum rejection will occur.
Serum rejection results in immediate death.
PROTOCOL 3 — EMERGENCY STABILIZER
Each subject has been provided with a single Emergency Stabilizer Serum, located within their assigned living quarters.
The Emergency Stabilizer functions as a last-resort medical intervention designed to partially repair destabilized serum integration.
When administered, the Stabilizer will restore a portion of the subject's Stability.
The Emergency Stabilizer cannot restore Stability to 100%.
PROTOCOL 4 — STABILIZER RESTRICTIONS
Emergency Stabilizers are subject to the following conditions:
• Each subject may use their Stabilizer only once
• Stabilizers may only be administered inside the subject's personal quarters
• Stabilizers restore approximately 30–40% Stability
After use, the Stabilizer becomes permanently inactive.
PROTOCOL 5 — STABILIZER SIDE EFFECTS
Due to the experimental nature of the Ascension serum, the Emergency Stabilizer may produce secondary biological or neurological reactions.
These reactions remain unclassified and are currently under observation.
Subjects should understand that the Stabilizer is a risk-reduction measure, not a cure.
Unexpected behavioral or physiological changes may occur.
My eyes lingered on that line longer than the others.
Side effects.
Unknown ones.
Great.
The screen continued.
PROTOCOL 6 — PERFECT STABILIZATION
Permanent stability may be achieved through Perfect Stabilization.
Perfect Stabilization is awarded when a subject fulfills the following conditions:
Successfully terminate another subject
Avoid identification during the subsequent Evaluation Hearing
Subjects who achieve Perfect Stabilization will have their Stability permanently locked at 100%.
Perfect Stabilization produces no known side effects.
I swallowed.
So that was the incentive.
Murder.
PROTOCOL 7 — BODY DISCOVERY
When a deceased subject is discovered, the system will issue a Body Discovery Announcement.
This announcement will activate once three or more living subjects confirm the body.
After the announcement, the Investigation Phase will begin.
PROTOCOL 8 — INVESTIGATION PHASE
During the investigation phase, subjects may freely explore the facility and examine the crime scene.
Evidence will remain preserved until the Evaluation Hearing begins.
Subjects may share or conceal information at their discretion.
PROTOCOL 9 — EVALUATION HEARING
After the investigation period concludes, all surviving subjects must participate in an Evaluation Hearing.
During the hearing, subjects must discuss the incident and determine the identity of the perpetrator.
At the conclusion of the hearing, all subjects will cast a final vote.
PROTOCOL 10 — CORRECT JUDGMENT
If the majority correctly identifies the perpetrator:
• The perpetrator will be executed
• The experiment will continue with the remaining subjects
PROTOCOL 11 — INCORRECT JUDGMENT
If the majority incorrectly identifies the perpetrator:
• The incorrectly accused subject will be executed
• The true perpetrator will receive Perfect Stabilization
• The experiment will continue
PROTOCOL 12 — VIOLENCE ALLOWANCE
Subjects are permitted to harm or kill other subjects.
The system will not intervene in interpersonal violence.
Attempts to destroy facility infrastructure or disable monitoring systems will trigger countermeasures.
PROTOCOL 13 — ENVIRONMENTAL EXPANSION
As the experiment progresses, additional sections of the facility will unlock.
These expansions are referred to as Phases.
Each Phase may introduce new environments, resources, or hazards.
PROTOCOL 14 — SURVEILLANCE
All areas of the facility are monitored.
Subjects should assume they are under observation at all times.
Surveillance exists for data collection, not interference.
PROTOCOL 15 — EXPERIMENT COMPLETION
The Ascension Experiment will conclude when one of the following conditions is achieved:
• Four subjects remain alive
• The Overseer determines sufficient experimental data has been collected
Additional protocols may be introduced at the Overseer's discretion.
The screen dimmed slightly. I set the tablet down slowly. Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out the syringe again. The silver liquid shimmered inside the barrel. If I used it now… A projection flickered on the wall beside me.
Ultimate Nobody
Stability — 20%
Twenty percent.
Lower than almost everyone else. I raised the syringe toward my neck. The needle hovered there for several seconds.
Then I stopped.
With a quiet exhale, I placed the syringe back on the desk.
I turned toward the door and stepped out into the hallway.
Toward the others.
Toward whatever life we were about to build inside this place.
Inside this experiment.
Inside…
Project Ascension.