Chapter 185 - Education (Patreon)

[Madam Hawthorn, Whitley Genetic Designers would like to remind you that while this activity is recommended to counter the shortcomings of 229-D-X, it should not be repeated-]

“Understood. I waive all rights to take legal action against Whitley Genetic Designers. Perform the morality baseline adjustment again according to my settings.” A stern lady in a colourful dress stared at a young boy, his face pale with sweat as his mouth was bounded tightly in metal clasps.

[Confirmed. Target’s vitals are elevated – maximum efficiency of activity is achieved at-]

“I don’t care.” The lady waved her hand dismissively at a holographic monitor nearby, the sleeves of her dress changing colours like the ebb and flow of waves with her arm, a painting in motion. “He’s a Hawthorn; he can handle this.”

Before the boy could make his muffled screams heard, a neural helmet clamped down tight on him, with four tubes already directly plunged into his body, injecting chemical agents that swirled purple. The boy immediately became unconscious, but his brainwaves on the neural monitor were far from quiet.

“Ping on the multi when he’s done.” The lady turned sharply and walked out of the room, leaving the unconscious boy alone to fight his dreams induced by the machine.

With a sudden fright, the boy found himself fighting monsters that were attacking the orbital habitat of the Hawthorns. Ghastly creatures of space, whales that spanned entire moons and hive insectoids ravaged through the energy barriers, all while family members he recognised were fighting hard for their dear lives.

The Dynasty guards stood no chance against the onslaught, falling one by one. The boy could even see and watch his uncles and aunties torn to shreds as the creatures invaded the ornate hallways, eroding what was left of his home. For some reason, the look of horror on his relatives’ faces was hyper-focused despite him being more than a mile away, able to see every pore stained with blood and gore, his breathing elevated.

He could see his father fight valiantly, protecting his mother and his two siblings to death. But even his energy blade and guns stood no chance against the seemingly invincible monsters who rampaged straight towards his family.

“Kyle! Use the gun! Save us!” His sister screamed, prompting the young Kyle to look down and notice a ‘special’ handgun, seemingly tailored to defeat the creatures. All he had to do was to pick up the weapon and shoot to save his family. Without hesitation, Kyle grabbed the handgun, firing immediately into the creatures.

The moment he pulled the brass triggers, the cold metal stinging his fingers, he was suddenly put back in place, the scenario looping again. Yet Kyle did not feel like it was a loop, the memories of the past loop already slipping away into his subconscious like a dream.

“Kyle! Use the gun! Save us!” His sister screamed, and without missing a beat, Kyle grabbed the handgun and pulled the trigger once more.

Over.

And.

Over.

It came to the point that even before his family was threatened, Kyle had already grabbed the handgun and moved instinctively in a proactive motion, fighting against the creatures alongside his father.

Just as he fought for what seemed like the umpteenth time, the scenario looped once again, but Kyle was none the wiser. But this time, as he instinctively grabbed the handgun, his heart clenched slightly, pausing for a brief moment.

For this time, it was not creatures of space but rather hostile Dynasty members. The three other Dynasties of the Loeric Empire had turned to attack his home, pillaging and destroying everything in reach. From the protective glass windows of the orbital habitat, he could see cruiser ships lay waste to his precious planet, their plasma beams burning and tearing away the sky apart; the land turned into a molten slag along with the boiling oceans with nothing left of human civilisation to show for it.

“Kyle! Use the gun! Save us!”

He was suddenly back at the start, his family now held hostage by the Dynasty members, their evil grins clear as day. Kyle did not act fast enough, still hesitating before picking up the gun.

However, his family already lay dead at his feet; their necks snapped cleanly as their eyes lolled into nothingness. With a blink, Kyle was back at the start once again.

“Kyle! Use the gun! Save us!”

This time he picked up the gun with fury, fighting tooth and nail against the Dynasty members. The scenario looped again, Kyle progressing further and further until it became second nature to him. It looped once more.

Over.

And.

Over.

But this next loop was different, for it was not the Dynasty members attacking but the common folk in rebellion. The planet below was awash in the flames of revolt, civilian and Dynasty starships alike locked in an orbital battle as their missiles curved towards the horizon, metal debris clouds threatening to pierce the glistening energy barriers that had already been breached.

His family was now held hostage by a young ragtag group of orphans; their faces were dishevelled and unkept, their clothing stitched with basic rad-fabric in a mishmash. Their evil grins seared themselves into Kyle’s subconscious.

“Kyle! Use the gun! Save us!”

This time, Kyle did not even try to reach for the handgun, completely locked in place as his mind and heart fought a devastating war within. All he did was watch his family murdered in cold blood by the orphans before they grabbed him. One of them leaned over him, their terrible breath oozing out onto his face. “You don’t deserve to stand above us! None of you do! You’re not better than us!”

The loop began again, and Kyle did not lift a finger again.

“You don’t deserve to stand above us! None of you do! You’re not better than us!”

Again.

“You don’t deserve to stand above us! None of you do! You’re not better than us!”

On the twentieth loop, Kyle finally picked up the handgun and killed them, shooting them in the head. It was hard the first time he killed them, but it became easier and easier over the subsequent hundred loops, as though his body was just going through the routine.

The moment he killed the orphans in the two hundredth loop, Kyle was suddenly dragged back to reality, all memories of the loop lost as he breathed heavily through the metal clasps, his body drenched in sweat. Yet he could feel that something drastic had happened to him; his mentality slightly shifted as his hand twitched violently.

The doors to the room slid open gracefully, revealing the same women from before. “Two hundred? He’s getting better. Repeat the adjustment.”

Without warning, Kyle was plunged right back into the same adjustment.

Over.

And.

Over.

He had lost track of how much time had passed, his brain teetering on the brink as he went through the loops again, while the lady continuously did the adjustment. Only when Kyle had hit the point of ten loops in the final scenario did the lady finally relent, the smallest of smiles appearing on her designer face, her features immaculate as though they had been carved out by a laser.

“Good. As expected. Bring him to Cell 44A.”

Kyle was unceremoniously dragged out of the pod, his mind in a mess as he struggled to retain his semblance of reality, trying to make sense of what was real and what wasn’t. But instead of the two human cyborgs providing any sense of comfort, he was instead thrown into a white cell alone.

In the middle of the white cell was a whimpering kid, his face bagged and covered from Kyle’s view. Yet Kyle instinctively knew who he was, recognising the clothes of basic rad-fabric as his eyes darting to a handgun placed nicely on a table nearby.

“Kyle? Kyle, is that you?” A weak voice came out from the kid, his breath ragged as the fresh wounds on his feet and arms still glistened bright red under the glaring white LEDs of the cell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –“

The memories came rushing back to Kyle: his sneaking out of the orbital habitat, the high acceleration of the dropships, and the stink of the slums under the glittering cities.

Yet his body moved on muscle memory, instilled by the countless loops. Without hesitating, Kyle grabbed the handgun on the table and fired three shots expertly: two in the chest, one in the head.

The energy shots seared through the flesh, not even giving the kid a chance to scream as the smell of burning meat began to fill the cell. The door behind him hissed open, the lady’s smile growing even wider.

“Well done, my son. A Hawthorn never mingles with those beneath us. The galaxy is full of vultures, and only your family – your Dynasty - matters. Understood.”

Instead of replying, Kyle walked forward to the kid, pulling off the bag to see the face. A tear ran down his own face, something the lady caught immediately.

“You two. Grab him. The adjustment is half-complete. Repeat it.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Kyle woke up with a gasp, shouting with fury into the empty lab of the Oracle Chambers. He breathed heavily, glancing around his surroundings, looking down only to find a half-etched metal plate, his attempt at improving on engravings.

He soon recalled that he had been stuck on trying to replicate the Necklace of Healing perfectly, the engravings far too complex and beyond the arcia theory that even Reese could understand. Kyle checked the time, remembering that he had started about seven hours ago, just after his combat training session with Mari. It’s been three days since I began trying, but I still have nothing to show.

“Orisa? What happened? Was there a mental attack?”

Kyle checked his body, still wearing a few pieces of internal armour under his suit, when the avatar of Orisa appeared before him. [Sir, I believe you have experienced the condition known as ‘dreaming’. Common among baseline humans.] The A-Class A.I. said with a monotonous drawl.

“How long was I out?”

[Only an hour. I am detecting elevated breathing rates as well as increased perspiration from you. Do you require medical assistance?]

Again? Kyle sighed, resting his arms on the table as he ignored Orisa. The last time he had such a dream was before the Battle of Ulut. He had found it to be a novel experience, though they were hardly conducive to a proper rest.

Kyle found it strange that his body had unwillingly fallen asleep without him being aware. If I were drowsy, I would at least have time to find a proper place to rest. It was a strange condition to him, knocked out in the middle of an activity on the spot.

However, he had recalled information related to this for designer babies like him. When you push yourself too hard, the mind will resist. Kyle did not think his mind was weak, but then again, he had no choice in the brain that he had been reincarnated into.

Thinking back, it had been less than a year since Kyle had entered the world. The series of activities was nearly non-stop, Kyle continuously moving with the flow as though he was still a Galactic Crime Lord, seeing as to him there was hardly any gap in time between his death and reincarnation.

Yet his dreams and reactions told a different story, a possible path that he had forgone thanks to the Dynasty in his former life. He instinctively shunned such a wasteful activity, his brain already geared to achieving more power and more status, unwilling to languish under the oppression of others.

“Orisa, any mind-altering additives that can boost my brain’s stress recovery activity?”

[If you are referring to the Mind-Bending Potion, then we are able to grow the ingredients if necessary.]

“Forget it.” Kyle waved his hand dismissively, rubbing his eyes again. “What’s next on my schedule?”

[A new batch of arctech designer interns are coming to the Culdao Peaks in four hours for their theory course. As recommended, priority was given to younger humans and goblins than older ones. Following that, Victoria has requested assistance in securing a Yul’s Tear mine in Kregol from the Violet Demons.]

Kyle obviously had limited teaching resources: everyone competent enough was far too busy to involve themselves in educating the next generation. Yet he knew that it was an essential task in the event that any of his subordinates were to fall in battle or be assassinated. It was the norm to prepare a successor.

However, instead of thinking of such things, his mind drifted back to the dream he just had, his former’s life idea of ‘education’ and the ‘friends’ that he was allowed to have.

“Get Mari to join the course. Have her enrol as an intern as well.”

For the first time, Orisa cocked her avatar’s head sideways, looking at Kyle in a confused manner. [Sir, the previous arrangement was combat training sessions sixteen hours a day. You also requested that Mari not interact with others lest her efficiency was affected.]

Kyle glanced back at the attempt to replicate the Necklace of Healing, seeing that he had wasted nearly three continuous days with nothing to show for it. Reese and Gordon couldn’t help him, nor did he want them to divert their attention away from reconstructing the South Sector. Perhaps teaching the interns would give me a glimpse of insight—a fresh perspective.

“The course takes priority over the combat training. Split it eight-eight. I myself will teach the course for one hour a day.”

[Sir, I believe your original prerogative was to improve the combat strength of yourself and Mari.]

“Being a mage is not all about combat, but understanding arcia energy and how it works in other objects. It should serve as a better visualisation for Mari and subsequently result in better training for me as well. And maybe I’ll also learn something new from them that will help me get over this rut.” Kyle reasoned, mostly to himself.

A long silent pause made the air slightly awkward, Kyle wondering whether Orisa had finally given up the ghost. Instead, Orisa’s avatar moved closer to Kyle, her holographic eyes scrutinizing him.

[Sir, your behaviour has been much more erratic than your original baseline. Do you require medical assistance? If you are being manipulated, please blink twice rapidly. Emergency services will be contacted.]