Chapter 9: The Countdown
The doctors whispered right outside my door, their voices low and urgent like they thought the walls couldn’t hear.
I caught pieces anyway. “...only survivor... Abyss Gate... name on the core seal...” One of them sounded nervous. “We need to keep him isolated. Director Ashcroft is on his way.”
Two security guards stood inside the room now, rifles ready, eyes locked on me like I was a bomb that might go off. No more kind nurses checking my vitals. No gentle smiles. I wasn’t a patient anymore.
I was a risk.
I lay there in the hospital bed, tubes still taped to my arm, machines beeping steadily beside me. My body felt off. Too sensitive. Every breath pulled at muscles that didn’t quite feel like mine anymore. The sheets scratched against skin that tingled like it had been remade while I slept.
One guard shifted his weight, muttering to the other. “You believe the reports? Whole S-Rank team wiped out and this kid walks out untouched. Something’s not right with him.”
The second guard kept his hand near his weapon. “Orders are clear. No one in or out without Ashcroft’s approval. He’s not leaving this floor until they know what he is.”
I stared at the ceiling, heart already pounding. Three days. They said I’d been out for three days. Kain’s laugh still echoed in my head. The way his body had crumpled under his own power. All of them gone because my name was carved on that seal.
The blue screen flickered into view again, floating perfectly in my vision.
I focused on it, trying to keep my breathing steady. \[Show me everything. Don’t hide anything.\]
The interface expanded instantly, text populating in clean lines.
SYSTEM INTERFACE — CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL ACTIVE
Host: Elias Verne
Level: 1
Class: SEAL
Structural Integrity: 100%
Stats filled the screen next.
Strength: 8
Agility: 7
Endurance: 13
Perception: 16
Willpower: 24
Willpower that high felt like a joke. I had spent my whole life feeling powerless, hauling crates for people who never even learned my name. Now the system gave me a number like I was supposed to be strong.
Skills listed below, most of them grayed out and locked.
Abyssal Tendril — Locked
Structural Reinforcement — Locked
Containment Feedback — Passive (Active)
Then the warnings appeared in red, scrolling slowly.
WARNING: Power usage directly impacts Structural Integrity.
WARNING: Integration process ongoing. Host consciousness may experience bleed.
WARNING: External monitoring strongly recommended.
I whispered under my breath, “This isn’t a power system. It’s watching me fall apart.”
One guard glanced over. “You say something, kid?”
I ignored him and kept staring at the floating blue rectangle. \[What does SEAL mean? Tell me the truth.\]
The screen updated without hesitation.
SEAL CLASS: Living Container for Primordial Core Entity.
Primary Function: Maintain containment of sealed entity.
Secondary Function: Limited filtered deployment of contained power.
Risk: Progressive degradation of host vessel.
My stomach twisted. Primordial Core. The Abyss Gate hadn’t just tried to kill me. It had put something ancient inside me and turned my body into its cage.
I sat up slowly, ignoring the pull of the tubes. The guards tensed but didn’t stop me. “Why me?” I muttered. “I was nothing. Invisible. Why put something like this in someone who doesn’t matter?”
The screen didn’t answer out loud, but a new section appeared at the bottom, pulsing faintly.
STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: 100%
ESTIMATED TIME TO CATASTROPHIC FAILURE: 847 DAYS
A timer.
Not experience points. Not levels to grind. Just a countdown.
847 days until the seal broke. Until whatever was locked inside me tore its way out. Until Elias Verne stopped being Elias Verne.
My hands started shaking. I gripped the sheets tight, knuckles turning white. “This isn’t power. This is a death sentence with extra steps.”
The guard closest to the bed frowned. “Hey, you alright? You’re talking to yourself again.”
I laughed once, the sound bitter and cracked. “Alright? The entire team died because my name was on that seal. Kain laughed at me like I was nothing, and now he’s gone. Lira, Marcus, all of them. And this thing inside me is counting down the days until it finishes the job.”
The blue screen stayed perfectly still, the timer glowing softly.
ESTIMATED TIME TO CATASTROPHIC FAILURE: 847 DAYS
I could almost hear the seconds ticking away.
The doctors outside kept whispering. I caught more fragments now. “...potential Seal-type Awakened... unprecedented... Ashcroft wants full observation protocol...”
The guards watched me even closer, hands resting on their weapons.
I sank back against the pillows, eyes locked on that timer. 847 days. Less than three years. Not enough time to fix anything. Not enough time to become the person I had always wanted to be. Just enough time to feel myself disappearing piece by piece.
And the worst part? Some small, desperate part of me still felt a sick kind of relief.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t invisible. Something was watching me. Measuring me. Counting down to the day I would finally matter, even if it meant I stopped existing.
The screen pulsed once, almost like it understood my thoughts.
CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL ACTIVE. HOST STABILITY: NOMINAL.
I closed my eyes, but the numbers stayed burned behind my eyelids.
847 days.
Every single one of them now belonged to the thing sealed inside me.
And I had no idea how to stop the clock.