Empathic Dampening: 53%
Note: Physical contact with non-Broken humans now induces physiological distress. Condition progressing.
Silas either didn't notice or didn't care. "You'll be evaluated further. We have a specialist." He gestured toward a small tent made of stitched-together leaves at the edge of the camp. "Nora will assess the full extent of your adaptations."
As they were led toward the tent, Kai saw the rest of the operation. Silas's group wasn't just blocking the bridge—they were farming it. Those deemed "moderately useful" were allowed to pass after surrendering most of their supplies. The "useless" were disposed of. The "valuable" were conscripted.
It was a microcosm of the game itself: sort, filter, optimize.
The tent smelled of herbs and something chemical. Inside, a woman sat cross-legged on a moss mat. She was older, maybe fifties, with silver-streaked hair and eyes that held too much knowledge. Her correction was subtle: her fingers ended in fine, needle-like points, and she was using them to stitch a wound on a young man's arm with thread made from her own hair.
Analysis: Medical adaptation. Biological synthesis and precision manipulation.
"New recruits, Nora," said their guard.
Nora looked up. Her gaze settled on Kai, and her expression shifted—not recognition, but resonance. "Ah. Another Broken one."
The guard left. Nora finished her stitching, sending the young man away with a pat. Then she motioned for Kai to sit.
"You know the term Broken?" Kai asked.
"It's what the system calls adaptations that don't fit its templates." She took his hand, her needle-fingers probing his palm. A tiny pinprick, then she withdrew, examining a droplet of his blood. "Most corrections follow patterns. Enhanced strength, sensory acuity, regenerative factors. But some... some deviate. The system labels them Broken. They often come with costs."
She looked at his eyes. "You're losing connection, aren't you? Other people feel wrong to touch. Their emotions seem like noise."
Kai nodded.
"Common with predictive-type Broken abilities. Your brain is rewiring to process threat data efficiently. Social bonds are threats—they create vulnerabilities, emotional distractions." She released his hand. "You'll continue to lose empathy. Eventually, you might lose the ability to recognize other humans as anything more than variables in your calculations."
"Can it be reversed?"
"Not that I've seen." Nora turned to Lena and Anya, performing similar quick examinations. "Your corrections are more standard. The system is smoothing your rough edges. Making you better survivors." She looked back at Kai. "His isn't smoothing. It's... repurposing."
She stood, moving to a small chest made of woven bark. From it, she withdrew three small vials containing different colored fluids. "Options. Each comes with a price."
She held up a blue vial. "Suppressant. Slows the progression of your Broken adaptation. You'll retain more empathy, more connection. But your predictive abilities will be less reliable, slower."
A green vial. "Accelerant. Does the opposite. Speeds the adaptation. You'll become more efficient, more detached. Higher survival probability in the short term."
A red vial. "Stabilizer. Attempts to lock you at your current state. Mixed results. Sometimes works, sometimes causes system conflicts that lead to... unpleasant corrections."
She set them on the mat between them. "Silas will want you to take the accelerant. He values efficiency above all. But the choice, for now, is yours."
Kai looked at the vials. His threat simulation analyzed each:
*Blue: survival probability decrease by approximately 22%. Retain ability to form alliances. Emotional decision-making reintroduced as variable.*
Green: survival probability increase by 18%. Accelerated loss of humanity. Possible complete detachment within days.
Red: unknown outcome. System conflict could be beneficial or catastrophic.
Lena touched his arm. He forced himself not to pull away. "Don't lose yourself, Kai. Not completely."
Anya was more pragmatic. "Take the green. Survival is all that matters here. Humanity is a luxury we can't afford."
Kai reached for the blue vial.
Then stopped.
A commotion outside. Shouts. The sound of fighting.
They rushed from the tent to see chaos.
A group was attacking the bridge blockade from the far side. Not desperate survivors—this was organized. Ten people, moving with coordinated precision. Their corrections were aggressive, combat-focused: one had spines erupting from his back; another spat corrosive fluid; a third moved in blurring bursts of speed.
Silas's guards were falling. The stone-skinned woman went down, her leg shattered by a spineshot. The camouflaged lookout dropped from his tree, a corrosive spray eating through his chest.
"Rivals," Nora said, her voice calm amid the panic. "Another evaluator named Vex. She and Silas have been competing for prime candidates."
Kai's threat simulation updated: Conflict creates opportunity for escape. Probability: 68% if acting during peak chaos.
Silas was shouting orders, his calm shattered. "Hold the line! Archers to the high branches! Kai—predict their movements!"
The command was an opportunity. Kai stepped forward, his ability activating. He saw the attack patterns, the weaknesses.
"Spine-shooter reloads every four shots," he called. "He's vulnerable for 1.2 seconds after the fourth. Corrosive spitter's range is limited to fifteen feet. The speed-burster can't change direction mid-move—predict her endpoint and she can't dodge."
Silas's fighters adjusted. An archer took the spine-shooter in the throat during his reload. Guards flanked the corrosive spitter, staying outside his range. They laid traps in the speed-burster's path, and she impaled herself on sharpened stakes.
The tide turned. Vex's group began to fall back.
But Kai wasn't watching the battle. He was watching the bridge. During the fighting, the guards had left their posts. The way was clear.
"Now," he whispered to Lena and Anya.
They moved, slipping along the edge of the ravine while all eyes were on the fight. They reached the bridge approach unchallenged.