Number 23 and Nix followed the scientists into a sterile, white chamber, where more than a dozen children were already waiting. It might have seemed like a crowd, but out of the hundreds who had been sent to the laboratory, these were the only survivors.

The rest had either been torn apart by the brutal trials devised by the technicians or consumed by the uncontrollable surge of aether forced into their bodies.

Most of the children appeared hollow, lethargic, broken, and worn down by years of torment.

Only one figure stood apart—Number 23.

Unfazed by the crushing pressure and the weight of expectation, he strolled to his designated spot, where four technicians were already waiting to prepare him for the following procedure. The remaining children would have to share the other four, a silent reminder of whom the lab truly deemed worthy.

The white chamber's layout was quite simple; it was akin to a multi-bed ward. All of the children sat on their designated beds, waiting for the technicians to plug them in. However, only Number 23 was fully relaxed, having endured the procedures with ease. He glanced at the adjacent bed, seeing Nix nervously adjusting his posture so that the needles and wires wouldn't be hindered in any way.

Noticing Number 23's gaze, Nix spun his head around and gave out his signature, warm smile.

It was a familial smile, one that Number 23 had seen multiple times in the past, but he couldn't help but notice the slight apprehension hidden within his best friend's trembling lips.

"H-Hey, don't worry about me! I-I got this!"

"..."

Number 23 felt his heart palpitate for the first time in a while. Not from fear of the injection, he had no qualms about it in the slightest. But he was nervous for his friend, unsure if he would survive this ordeal.

"You don't have to go through with this, you know?"

"No… I must do it! I-I can do it!"

Nix shrivelled away with receding confidence. Seeing that he couldn't convince him, Number 23 sighed deeply and gave the lab technicians a suggestive gaze. However, none of them caught it, and they just wired Number 23 in and started the injection.

"Why are you showing that face? You're going to survive this no matter what!"

One of the lab technicians smiled faintly, a mix of pride and anticipation gleaming in his eyes, before beginning the procedure. The hum of machinery filled the sterile chamber as translucent tubes pulsed with faint blue light.

Slowly, the liquid aether began to flow into Number 23's veins. A searing warmth spread through his body, uncomfortable, but not unbearable, like a blood transfusion laced with electricity. Monitors around the room flickered as the aether coursed deeper, threading through his nervous system and seeping into every cell. His muscles tightened, his vision sharpened, and a strange clarity washed over his mind.

It was as if the world had slowed, every sound, breath, and vibration amplified beyond human limits. Number 23's heart began to pound with an unnatural rhythm: steady, powerful, resonant. The surge of energy was no longer something being injected; it was becoming him.

He could feel the threshold breaking, the last barrier between mortality and divinity shattering like glass. Though he had long been classified as a Transcendent, this moment marked his true metamorphosis.

Aether no longer merely flowed into him—it obeyed him, swirling in invisible patterns at his command. The technicians stepped back in awe. Number 23 had become the laboratory's greatest triumph, a being whose power could rival even the most exalted of Transcendents that walked the earth.

But Number 23 wasn't done.

From the depths of his soul, something stirred… something ancient and long dormant. The surge of aether had not merely strengthened him; it had awakened the foreign presence that had been slumbering within all along.

A slow, consuming ecstasy overtook him. The power seeped through every corner of his being, intoxicating his mind and dissolving what little resistance he had left. He felt weightless, untethered from the confines of flesh and fear. Like a lone vessel adrift upon an endless sea, Number 23 surrendered himself to the currents of that newfound entity.

He did not resist; he yielded, letting it steer him through the boundless depths of power that now called his name.

But before Number 23 could fully embrace his new power, he was awakened by the sounds of machines beeping and sirens.

"Erkkkk!!!"

"T-They're becoming unstable!"

"Quick! Stop the procedure!"

Lab technicians scurried throughout the white chamber, their footsteps breaking Number 23 from his deep slumber. His eyelids flickered into the light, and he saw the other subjects convulsing on their beds. Some were foaming at the mouth, while others were bleeding from their eyes. But Number 23 cared little for them. The one he was focused on was the bed right next to his, and the only person he could call a friend in the dystopian world.

"... N-Nix!"

Weakly muttering his friend's name, Number 23 got out of bed and watched as Nix convulsed the hardest out of the group. Veins were popping as the aether within his body was turning berserk. The ground shook violently as all of the subjects exploded with aether.

Number 23 immediately rushed to Nix's side and placed his hand on his friend's chest. Using his clumsy hands, he attempted to stabilise Nix's condition, but it was to no avail. The aether was going amok and it was only a matter of time before he became corrupted.

"Shit, they're turning! Eliminate them!"

The head scientist shouted, and the technicians all got to work. All of them stabbed a stake through the young children's hearts, ensuring that none of them could turn. And for good measure, they made sure to behead the children in cold blood.

However, Number 23 wasn't going to let his friend suffer the same fate.

"No! Stop!"

"Don't block our way, Number 23! We have to stop Number 99 from turning!"

"No! Stop!"

Number 23 yelled and pushed the lab technicians back with a burst of aether. Helpless against the newly ascended Transcendent, the technicians scrambled back in fear, with half of them already evacuating the chamber. Number 23 didn't know what was going on, but he knew that he didn't want Nix to suffer the same fate as the rest of the test subjects.

Holding onto his friend's convulsing body, Number 23 tried his best to stabilise him, but it wasn't enough.

Nix's skin began to pale, the colour draining from his flesh until it settled into a lifeless ash-grey. The aether within him surged violently, bursting through his veins in uncontrolled waves. His body twisted and warped under the strain, bones cracking, muscles convulsing, as something monstrous took shape.

Grey claws tore through his fingertips, red horns burst from his skull, and blood streamed from his eyes like tears of anguish. The transformation was grotesque, a portrait of agony and corruption. But even though Nix was corrupted, he didn't show any signs of frenzy. He remained on the bed, groaning in agony while blood dripped down his face.

Through the chaos, Number 23 stood unmoving, his gaze steady, his resolve unshaken, as the horror before him unfolded.

"Number 23! Look what you've done! You allowed him to fully corrupt! Shit, now we need to sterilise the lab once again!"

The lead scientist in charge of the Transcendent creation program entered the room, covering his nose. He didn't even care about the test subjects that had been killed or Nix, who had turned. His primary concern was how he could sterilise the lab.

"Do you know how expensive it is to clean up a corrupted aether location? Tch, we may even need to find a new testing ground."

Number 23 ignored the babble of the scientist and looked at his suffering friend. He could see traces of Nix's signature smile in the horrendous creature through the groaning. But, Number 23 couldn't tell… was his friend still there?

"Save him."

"... What?"

Number 23 looked at the lead scientist and demanded, "Save him."

"Are you crazy? Once a subject has been corrupted by aether, there's no going back! We're lucky he isn't powerful enough to go berserk, else we need to get a Transcendent here to kill him."

"Save him."

Number 23 repeated himself, not knowing what emotions were flowing through his mind.

"Urgh, that's why I don't like to deal with brats! Listen here! Aether corruption is irreversible. If he hadn't turned, maybe we could have done something, but now he's not even human anymore! What do you want us to do?"

"..."

Number 23 looked down at his suffering friend with muddied eyes. Then, he asked softly:

"So you can't save him?"

"Impossible! I told you that…"

Before the lead scientist could utter a single word, Number 23 raised his arm. A black blade materialised in his grasp, silent, weightless, and wreathed in shadow. In the next instant, it cut through the air with the speed of the wind, tracing a dark arc that ended at the scientist's throat.

The man's words died before they began. His body crumpled soundlessly to the floor, lifeless. Number 23 didn't flinch. There was no hesitation, no mercy… only cold precision.

Without a word, he turned, lifting the suffering Nix with effortless ease and carrying him toward another scientist, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Save him."

"W-Where did you get that sword?!"

Number 23 didn't bother with the scientist and ruthlessly sliced his throat again. Then he moved on to the next person.

"Save him."

"H-Help!"

"Save him."

"Y-You bastard! Don't you know who we are?! We created you!"

"Save him."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Save him."

Number 23 carried on his journey, repeatedly trying to get anyone to save Nix from his inevitable doom. But, unfortunately, none of them could carry out his will. In the end, Number 23 had ruthlessly killed every scientist and lab technician in the facility, leaving him all alone with the corrupted Nix, writhing in his arms.

"Grkttt… Grkkttt…"

"Nix…"

Number 23 looked down at his one and only friend in the world and saw the helplessness in his bleeding eyes. Deep down, Numer 23 long knew that he was past the point of no return, but he yearned for something. Yearned to save the one person he cared about.

Alas… There was no turning back time.

Escaping the facility, Number 23 stepped into the open world for the first time in his life. The cold night air brushed against his skin, a sensation both alien and liberating. Yet the first thing to catch his gaze wasn't the vast, barren plains that stretched beyond the cave's mouth, nor the jagged mountains and shadowed forests that surrounded him.

It was the moon.

Suspended high above, the luminous full moon bathed the world in its silvery glow. For a long moment, Number 23 stood motionless beneath it, letting the light wash over him. A strange heaviness filled his chest, a quiet, aching sorrow unlike anything he had ever known. Under that gentle radiance, the world felt both impossibly vast and unbearably lonely.

It hurts…

It hurts a lot…

Number 23 could hear those words in his mind. Whether it was Nix's cries of agony, or his own heart writhing over the loss of his friend… Number 23 didn't know.

He laid down Nix, who never stopped convulsing, and took one step forward. He recalled all of his conversations with his friend. From his dreams to become a Transcendent, to all the useless stories he'd told him throughout their friendship. In the end, everything came crumbling down.

"Nix… I'm sorry…"

Realising that Nix was long gone, Number 23 gave his friend one final mercy. He plunged the black blade in his hand into Nix's heart, ending it once and for all and severing the only friendship he had in this world.

Once Nix stopped moving, Number 23 fell to the ground and hugged himself as he wailed. His body shook uncontrollably while his heart felt unimaginable pain. He didn't want to feel this agony ever again, and thus… Number 23 took one step to closing his heart.

However, as one final nod to his friend, he rose with his tear-stained face and grabbed onto the mysterious black blade that appeared out of nowhere. Number 23 had no idea where this sword came from, and neither did he care. He grabbed its hilt and sheathed it next to his waist. Because instinctively… he knew that this sword was, and why it had come to his side.

"Come with me… Nyx."