Chapter 88: Chapter 88: Ronnie

Time: Five Months Since Ronnie’s Disappearance

Location: Black Site "Nyrrh-Zeta", Subterranean Bio-Reprogramming Lab

Oversight: Lord Krull’kahn, Directorate of Cognitive Supremacy

Darkness.

Then a flicker of light—cold, sterile, and green.

It wasn’t a sunrise. It was a surgical beam. And it was always shining.

Ronnie had not seen sunlight in 151 days.

The black site was never on any map. Hidden beneath a glacial trench south of the Arctic Circle,Nyrrh-Zetawas no prison. It wasa crucible—designed not to contain, but toerase and remake.

Every hour, Ronnie’s body had been carved, flayed, burned, rebuilt, infused, and reset. Not with metal—no. That would’ve been simple. They worked deeper.Into his mind. Into his soul.

He was calledSubject Omega.

A designation reserved for those whoresisted reprogramming longer than twenty cycles. That resistance was... a curiosity. A flaw. Something the reptilians tookpersonally.

He was strapped to it again.

Theneural cruciform—a curved slab of obsidian alloy laced with sentient restraints that adjusted to his every twitch. They didn’t need steel to hold him. They needed fear. Confusion. Pain.

Suspended from the ceiling above was a tangle of glowing needles, fluid tanks, andmind-drill tendrils—each one programmed to extract memory, inject simulations, and inflict personalized trauma based on scanned memory logs.

"Cycle 112. Initiating sequence: Familicide Loop."

The machine whispered.

And Ronniescreamed.

He was back in that house—again.

Anita’s voice echoing through burning walls. Richard’s eyes staring back at him as blood soaked the tiles. Their screams mixed with static, looping, merging with the reptilian chorus of lab coats around him.

He sobbed. His nose bled. But his hands didn’t move.

Emotion suppression: 87%.Resilience index: +3%.Override required.

The pain increased.

Sometimes it waschemical vivisection—an ancient procedure modified for psi-born subjects. They opened his skull without blades, using sonic prongs that parted his cranium like fog, keeping him awake as they dipped into his temporal lobe.

Other days, it waspsychic drowning—his consciousness buried under layers of false realities. He’d relive his death ten thousand times, then wake up in the same chamber, screaming in ten different languages they’d implanted just to test cross-brain contamination.

He forgot who he was by day twenty.

He remembered only because they forced him to watch the moment he killed his fatheron repeat—injecting emotion back into his body just long enough towitness it, then yanking it out again like a fishhook from flesh.

"We’re creating a god," the head scientist once told him. "But first, we must flay the man."

They shattered his bones and healed them out of order.

They introduced nano-psionic worms into his bloodstream to rewire his limbic responses.

They simulated betrayal from Richard. Love from Anita. Then killed them both in illusions—over and over—just to study his brainwave responses.

He screamed so much he lost his voice for weeks.

Then they installed a synthetic one.

LordKrull’kahnwatched every cycle from above, perched in a translucent mezzanine of black crystal, surrounded by monitors that pulsed with Ronnie’s vitals, psychic flux, resistance patterns, and blood chemistry.

He never smiled.

But when Ronnie’s mind broke for the 37th time—and yetrebuilt itselfinto something even more violent, unpredictable, andpsionically dangerous—

Krull’kahnpurred.

"A marvel," he hissed. "A furnace of memory... that keeps reigniting itself. Let’s see what happens when we give him fire."

Ronnie was dragged from the lab, limp and shivering,his eyes fogged but open.

Injected with theobedience serum—a cocktail of cortical suppressors, psionic throttlers, and emotional anesthetics. His memories were now fragmented shards floating in a void of static and silence.

But they gave him his armor back.

They bathed him. Clothed him.

Not out of mercy—out of spectacle.

His body was a weapon now—reforged muscle, heightened psionic thresholds, reactive biostructures that absorbed damage and returned it tenfold. But his mind was amausoleum—filled with locked doors and rotting memories.

As he was prepped for deployment, a neural command was triggered:

"Commence Arena Protocol: Observe reactivity under duress."

And as the lift platform rose, and the arena lights began to throb above,Ronnie didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

His silence screamed louder than words.

Present Day

The arena rumbled. Its floor, made of obsidian-laced alloy, was scorched and cracked from earlier combat tests. No audience, no applause—onlyKrull’kahn, sitting on his spire-like throne high above, a digital control tablet glowing in his clawed grip.

Ronniestood below.

His body still twitched occasionally from themind control serumcoursing through his bloodstream. His posture was loose, mechanical—like a puppet dangling on a wire. His psionic aura flickered, repressed and unstable.

Directive: Engage test subjects.Emotion dampeners: 82% suppression.Conscience barrier: Reinforced.

The massive iron gate hissed open.

Three enhanced supersoldiersstepped forward—cloaked in bio-adaptive armor, each one bristling with integrated weapons, psionic modulators glowing faintly under their skin. They moved like predators, silent and synchronous.

Behind them...McKnight.

Dressed in light armor, veins glowing faint blue as thetemporary enhancement serumhe’d injected began to fuse with his system. No psionics. Justpure violencein human form.

"Ready for round two, puppet?" he sneered.

Ronnie said nothing. His lips barely moved. His eyes were pale.

But the air trembled.

The first supersoldier rushed in—a blur of kinetic force wrapped in psionic shielding. Ronnie’s instincts fired too late—he wasslammedacross the arena by a telekinetic blast. His body bounced against the ground, groaning in pain.

The second soldier launched a swarm ofneural disruptor orbs, each firing tiny spikes of psychic interference. Ronnie screamed as they pierced through his weak mental shielding, momentarilyscrambling his vision and sense of self.

The third soldier came in from above, mid-air, forming a blade of hardlight psionic energy. Ronnie lifted his hand in defense—

Too slow.

The blade slashed across his shoulder. Blood. Pain. Real.

He dropped to one knee.

"Engagement level: 41%. Directive: Increase aggression," Krull’kahn murmured, tapping the tablet again.

Ronnie’s hands lifted automatically—his psionic energy erupted in a sweeping arc,blasting two supersoldiers across the arenaand pinning them against the wall. One shrieked. Bones snapped. The other choked on blood.

But the third tackled him again—and this time, they foughtmind to mind. Psionic claws ripped through the air. Thought struck thought. Ronnie faltered.

They were coordinated. Trained. Fueled by the same serum thathehad been cursed with.

Ronnie was powerful—but his mind was fractured.

They were whole.

Ronnie stumbled back, panting. Two supersoldiers were down, but the last one still stood, though limping, and preparing another mental strike.

Then—

CRACK

A punch fromMcKnightdropped Ronnie flat.

The serum-enhanced operative stood over him, grinning, eyes filled with pure cruelty. He didn’t need powers—just the right drugs and the right timing.

"Still trying to be a hero?" he mocked. "Guess you don’t remember what happened when you tried that last time."

Ronnie coughed, pain radiating through his ribs.

McKnight leaned closer, taunting him.

"You remember Richard, don’t you? Your brother?"

Ronnie twitched.

"Yeah, you killed him. Burned his little heart out with your freak power. Your mother too, probably. Or was it your father first? You don’t even remember what youdid, do you?"

Silence.

Then—cracks appeared beneath Ronnie’s feet.

His body began totremble. His aura ignited in a pulse of white-blue light.

Something deep in his psychesnapped.

Not from anger.

Fromgrief.

"That’s a lie," he whispered. "You weren’t even there."

McKnight laughed. "No, but I’ve seen inside your mind. You’re living everyday, thinking how they would forgive you. Turns out, they won’t, cause they’re already dead."

"HAHAHAHA"

Ronnie stood, fists clenched.

His eyes were no longer blank.

They wereburning.

Suddenly—the arena exploded with light.

Ronnie screamed—not in pain, but inrelease.

His psionic aura flared out in a shockwave that cracked the floor anddisintegratedthe nearest arena pillars. Stones lifted into the air like they were weightless. Debris floated around him in perfect silence.

He was no longer fightingwithhis powers.

He was the power.

McKnight backed away, hand on a new injector.

"Shit—"

Ronniesnatched him mid-airwith invisible force andslammed him to the groundso hard the stone cratered.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! I’LL TEAR YOU TO PIECES, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

He lifted McKnight again—and was about torip him apartwith a storm of telekinetic blades forming around his body—

When—

Everythingfroze.

Not in time—but indomination.

Ronnie dropped mid-motion, his aura faltering. The blades shattered.

A new presence surged into the arena.

Not walking.

Descending.

Krull’kahn floated from his throne like a dark messiah, landing soundlessly in front of Ronnie.

His clawed hand lifted lazily. The control tablet was gone—he didn’t need it now.

He looked at Ronnie like a disappointed tutor.

"All that power... wasted on a bleeding heart."

Ronnie, gasping, reached out again—but his hand halted mid-air asKrull’kahn’s own psionic fieldenveloped the space.

It was unlike anything Ronnie had felt. It was so strong that he could pass out at any moment if he wasn’t countering the energy field dominating his mind.

Krull’kahn didn’tpushhim back. HeallowedRonnie to struggle—and smiled when he failed.

"Did you think your... pain made you stronger, slave?" he said, voice mockingly tender. "Do you think grief makes you special? You’re just a slave screaming into the void."

Hestepped closer, pressing a single clawed finger to Ronnie’s forehead.

"And I am the VOID."

A pulse of dark energy surged through Ronnie’s mind.

He collapsed.

Twitching. Defeated. Controlled once more.

Krull’kahn turned away.

"But fascinating, nonetheless..."

He paused.

"Let’s see how far your pain can carry you before it kills you."

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com