SYSTEM ALERT: CRITICAL REJECTION
HOST INTEGRITY: 45% (DROPPING)
INTERNAL TEMPERATURE: 104°F... 106°F...
The darkness inside Zane’s mind smelled like burning hair.
There was no floor, no ceiling, only an infinite, suffocating expanse of grey static.
He floated in the void, unable to move, while the universe screamed at him.
Usually, the System Interface appeared as a clean, blue series of text boxes—a gamified overlay meant to make the horror of his existence palatable, at least.
But here, deep in the subconscious machinery of the soul transfer, the illusion stripped away.
The System was a parasite.
Zane saw it now.
Thick, bioluminescent cables of blue light drilled into his spectral chest, pumping power in and sucking humanity out. And right now, the cables were clogged.
A
