«By now, you understand that my ability is rooted in self-control, If it is inside my body, I can command it.»
«But the real question is: how far does that control reach? I don't know. I've never dared to push it. To unlock the next stage of my power, I'd need to use more than 2000 of my BP, a threshold that could kill me, no, one that will kill me.»
«If I have overestimated my limits, IF I CANNOT at least manipulate matter at the molecular genetic level, then everything I've risked… will have been for nothing.»
Now lying naked on the polyethylene film, Mr. Valen slid the IV needle into a vein in his left hand.
A sharp breath tickled his nose.
The black blood began to flow, slowly rushing into his body, in a controlled manner.
With that, he lay back down as blood not of this world seeped into his body, but that was the easy bit; now came the hard part: waiting, surviving.
At first, he felt nothing but a cold, very cold stream sliding through his veins, turning them blue-black.
Then he breathed out, and his breath smelled of metal and ash, a light-headed feeling overcoming him as his pupils dilated.
But at that moment just when he was getting used to the new sensation, he felt something.
«And so the immune rejection begins.»
His veins began to bulge and throb, switching from blue to a deep, inflamed red as a burning sensation spread from his torso, like acid ravaging his bloodstream.
Pain—pain that Mr. Valen could not suppress—spread through his form, his voice—guttural as he began groaning like a madman, "Greeeeeeeeemmmmm."
His heart rate began to skyrocket, the poor thing pounding against his ribs like it wanted to break free, thereby pumping that tainted blood faster through his system.
In the next moment, hemolysis began, and Mr. Valen's own red blood cells began exploding, releasing hemoglobin into his plasma.
Now, Mr. Valen could not see this happening, but he could feel it, the unbearable agony that tore his lips open into a guttural scream.
"Ahhhhhhh!"
He may have been yelling for help, but no one came to his aid as the room was soundproofed, but even if it was not, Mr. Valen did not care; he could not control it.
Another thing he could not control was the black urine seeping out of his urethra and the yellowish tint spreading throughout his skin like dye diffusing in water.
A new wave of sharp pain pierced through his lower back as his kidneys began to shut down and in turn, Mr. Valen's wails increased.
By now, the blood was completely drained from the tank leaving only a faint ichor—the remnant of the drugs he had dumped in before.
And as though responding to that, his body began launching a cytokine storm as white blood cells flooded his system, overwhelming it with inflammatory chemicals, which, of course, caused rapid inflammation.
If one could touch Mr. Valen, they would notice that his body was unnaturally hot, at least up to 107°F, a mix of sweat and blood oozing from his pores.
But even if one was in the room it was unlikely that they'd go near him.
Why?
Because of the seizures, his muscles soon began snapping and contorting violently, blood and foam leaking out of his mouth as his eyes rolled back.
The multiple drugs he'd ingested caused a chemical warfare in his liver, as his heart rate, which had been raging, now slowed.
Another drug caused his vessels to dilate, while others caused contradiction, amplification, and utter chaos in his body, which was still spasming violently, the needle in his arm flinging as a result of the force.
Oddly enough, through all this, his brain was still functional. Why was that, when other humans would have died just from the pressure?
The answer was simple, Mr. Valen's brain was never the same as a normal human to begin with, being able to endure and recover from unimaginable levels of stress.
And if his brain was still functional, then Mr. Valen, in turn, was conscious.
Yet even amid his consciousness, his body still raged as though insulting him, blood seeping out of his nostrils, then...
"«CEASE!»"
A single command from the brain sent waves throughout his body as Mr. Valen activated his overdrive, using his brain to the absolute limit.
At first, everything was blank to him, but then something outside changed.
His body stopped fighting and stilled.
In the next moment, another movement appeared.
"Hiss," a sound could be heard as Mr. Valen's nostrils expanded, shucking in air to compensate for the alarming rate at which his brain drained his body of oxygen.
Glucose, sodium, potassium, calcium, magnesium, and other essentials the brain needed to survive were rooted not just from the body's reserves but from the drugs he had consumed and even the foreign blood in his body.
It was a complete show of power, absolute suppression.
At that moment, Mr. Valen began to see again, but not in the sense that we know; rather, his senses became aware of a world of information.
"«Astonishing.»" he thought, and the world around him trembled to reflect that thought; it was absolute control.
One would ask what he could see, what sights could make a man like Mr. Valen tremble in awe.
He no longer saw skin or organs anymore; his perception had transcended to glowing strands, lattices, and pulsating threads of information.
DNA strands, both his and the Whisper stalkers, spiraled like luminous, coiling highways, each segment tagged with unknown colors, symbols, and pulses.
He saw cells which looked like floating bubbles, each with tiny engines inside, glowing based on activity.
Genes lit up when they were active, and dimmed when dormant.
Most blinked and flickered to signal instability—as they collided with the intruding genome, a result of the trouble he had caused.
To him, it was like heaven, a realm of pure information.
And in response to his joy, billions of glowing threads writhed in the void around him.
But now it was time to work.
The human genome, in comparison to its counterpart, was fragile and flickered like candlelights, tangled in pale blue spirals.
Opposite it, the monster genome roared like a storm, golden coils etched with vicious glyphs, radiating a violent hunger.
They clashed on sight.
"Buzz!" And the world trembled at their collision, a light pain gracing Mr. Valen.
Two titans of code, one born of human survival, the other of god knows what, collided from separate angles, twisting and snapping at each other like magnetic serpents repelling at a molecular level.
The monster's code pulsed with predatory intent, every strand a command: Consume. Replace. Dominate.
The human code, on the other hand, fought a losing battle: Defend. Destroy. Consume, and yet it was no use, it was clearly weaker.
But then, Mr. Valen's voice rippled through the void, a hint of annoyance tainting it.
"«Halt.»"
The command wasn't spoken; it was injected into the genetic battle itself, and like they had heard the words of god, the strands froze mid-air, trembling.
Ignoring this, Mr. Valen reached out and pulled two strands, one human, one monster, and forced them to touch.
"Buzz!"
They rejected each other, recoiling violently, before burning in arcs of crimson energy, a wave of searing feedback spreading everywhere.
"«Both energies developed in two vastly different environments, recognizing and attacking each other is a trait I can't stop.»"
It was not like Mr. Valen did not try.
In fact, he tried every sequence he knew, twists, folds, recombinations.
None worked.
The monster DNA was uncooperative and wild, acting like a sentient beast refusing a leash, instantly devouring the human DNA, which tried its best to resist and devour back.
It would seem all hope was lost, but Mr. Valen remembered, that humans once held power, and then he chuckled.
It would seem that he who was too used to his human existence had been limiting himself lest he create undoable damage.
"«Preposterous.»"
He growled at that notion and dug even deeper into the buried, vestigial segments of the human ancient code, and like a madman began unlocking lost traits: regenerative sparks, primal resistance, forgotten neural adaptations.
At his mindless tampering, the human genome flared brighter, evolving within seconds, transforming weakness into legacy.
But then, his control faltered and the world around him trembled.
Mr. Valen realized that he was running out of time; his brain was losing function.
In a desperate act, Mr. Valen gathered every scattered thread of his DNA and wove them into a colossal, pulsing infinity symbol, consisting of thousands of glowing strands orbiting in perfect symmetry.
It was the only combination that his mind had theorised to be the best.
The theorem behind it was simple, at least on the surface.
If he could channel the devouring properties of the foreign DNA in one direction, and its defensive energy in another, while simultaneously doing the same for his human DNA but in reverse, not as a loop, but as a single-stage structure resembling the Infinity symbol, then both strands would be forced to accept and destroy each other.
Like both snakes devouring the other as it grew.
Of course, this was only the simplified version of a much larger and more complex theorem.
Meanwhile, the monster genome, recognizing the stability, merged not through force, but through balance.
And for the first time, they co-existed, a strong ripple signifying the end of his control blowing in all directions.
But this was brief.
As he could feel it, the imbalance, the sensory overload threatening to fracture his focus.
He had fucked up, as despite his attempts, the monster code was much stronger consuming the human code faster than the latter could consume it.
A quick calculation showed that he had one hour.
That was all he had; after that, his human code would be extinct, and so would he.
His eyes then opened and he was struck by an impossible headache, instincts he never once had whispering to him.
'I have failed,' he thought while the beast's healing factor which was already a part of him, activated.
Without command, it began repairing him: his flesh, damaged organs, broken bones, severed fingers—all healing.
But Mr. Valen was not happy as even in the hunger and with the bestial instincts that overwhelmed him, he knew that he only had One Hour to live.