The room was dimly lit.
Faint amber light spilled from the corners of the heavy oak cabinets, catching on the lacquer and softening the room’s edges.
Minimalist lines, expensive fabrics, and a ceiling entirely covered in flawless mirrored glass that now had marks of warm blood sprayed in violent arcs.
Blood was everywhere, not just the ceiling, but the walls, the floor, the dark mud coloured bedsheet on the black furnished minimalistic bed.
On that bed laid bodies of two women, naked, eyes left wide open from the horror they might’ve witnessed just before their death.
In front of the bed, stood a naked young man.
He had fine black hair, eyes with a colour of pink even roses would envy, a physique that was lean, yet muscular, too defined for someone his age.
His face and body had several marks of half-dried blood.
’This sweet and musty scent...’ his thoughts drifted as he paced slowly and stood in front of the glass wall that not only displayed the marvelous view of the city, but also reflected his appearance.
But he wasn’t looking at his appearance or the view of the city. To his eyes that part was blurred behind a glass window pop up floating in front of his eyes, which only he was able to see.
[Booting: ==========85% Complete.]
"What the fuck..." he squinted his brows looking at the translucent glass with neon white text on it.
He waved his hand to touch the screen floating in front of him, but his hands just passed through it without any form of resistance.
’Slight bitterness, and this metallic taste,’ he thought, tasting the blood running down his thumb.
"This is not a dream," he muttered.
There were several thoughts clashing and arguing over best possible and probable cause of the situation he was in, but none of them clicked.
He was clueless. Completely Clueless.
The man in reflections wasn’t him. The floating screen did not seem real.
He turned around, and looked at the bare bodies of beautiful women.
’I don’t know any of them either,’ he thought.
He looked down at the blood dripping from his palm, it appeared as if he was severely injured, but he couldn’t feel any pain or injury.
He ran his hand from his chest, to his abs, trying to feel any injury, but all he did was unintentionally spread the sticking blood all over.
He walks beside the bed, and leans in to observe the women laid on the bed.
One had her throat sliced, several thin cuts across arms, and legs, and one deep cut in the centre of her breasts.
The second had her wrists severed, neck cut in fine arc, and same pattern of wounds.
’Why so many superficial cuts?’ he thought, and straightened himself.
’A dagger? No, it generally thrusts. An expert knife fighter tends to produce punctures, defensive or directional slashes...’
’The wounds here however, do not look that they were inflicted in the moment of pleasure either,’
’They’ve not yet went cold,’ He touched the neck, and area just under the bare breasts of the women.
’Almost surgical, deliberate,’ he looked around the room, removed the sheets covering women, looked through wardrobes one by one as his legs left bloody imprints on the floor, yet he couldn’t find anything in the room that could’ve inflicted such wounds.
The young man heaved a long breath of sigh in distress, and massaged the back of his neck while observing the situation.
Surprisingly enough, a normal person would loose their cool, or try to flee from the situation, even if they know that they did not commit such a crime.
But this young man...he opened the washroom’s door, and washed his hands in the basin, scrubbing off the blood from his hands.
Then he picked a luxury robe from the wardrobe area of the room, and began taking a cold shower.
’What is happening...’ he thought as he could feel the cold water awakening his senses.
That window like screen followed where he went, floating around him without blocking his view.
[Booting: =============91% Complete.]
It appeared to be some sort of computer program on a high-tech see through display.
He walked out, dried himself with a white towel, and then wore the black robe he had selected.
Wearing disposable flippers, he walked on the bloody floor, and searched the clothes dropped on the floor for any electronics, and he was able to retrieve three mobile phones.
Dragging a rather clean cushion from the corner of the room, he placed it infront of the bed, and sat on it with three phones in his hands.
One of them had an aesthetic image of one of the woman on the bed as its wallpaper. The other had a wallpaper of a cute hamster. And lastly the phone he thought could be his, had no wallpaper at all, just a black background.
The faceid of that phone recognized the man and unlocked. He placed the remaining two phones on his thigh as he crossed his legs.
Then the young man started searching for any kind of clues. First were the settings that had his Id with the name of Marcellus Severan.
Second were his contacts that had no one except his father, and two contacts named buttler.
Third were the news headlines popped from the main page of search engine.
- ’UN Awakener Council Approves New Grade-8 Portal Response Protocol’
- ’Casualties Reach 73 After the discovery of Mumbai’s Type-I Gate’s exploration. Authorities are still reluctant on revealing that specific dimension’s information.’
- ’Severan Military Group Shares Rise 6.2% Following Government Contract’
- ’Senate Debates Private Guild Authority’
"..."
’Well, that does not look normal...’ he thought.
He expected realistic news related to sports, hot-topics but those that sounded realistic.
Applications consisted of defaults and a few games.
Settings displayed no viable information about the user either, except a mail ID which did not seem to make sense.
This was either a new phone considering its data and condition, or a phone of someone who had no interest in socials.
He did not have any social media applications, his browser history consisted of porn and some random corporation names he has never heard of.
But all in all, it did not have any valuable information about its owner.
From the headlines and their descriptive pages, he had an idea that either the whole phone is running on a local network and is a part of bigger prank being played by someone.
Or the worst-case scenario would be that...he is genuinely fucked.
[Booting: ================97% Complete.]
Moreover, this display did not make sense at all.
[Initialization Complete.]
[Operator Profile]
Name: Marcellus Severan
Species: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 18
Status
Alive Conscious Neurologically Stable
Affiliation
Severan Military Group Main Family
Core
Status: Active Classification: Axiom Development Stage: Immature (Combat Grade: 6)
Force
Total Capacity: 100% Current Capacity: 39% Circulation Stability: 55% Output Efficiency: 21%
Physical Condition
Skeletal Integrity: Normal Muscular Condition: Above Average Internal Injury: None Detected External Injury: None Detected
Neurological State
Cognitive Function: Normal Neural Fatigue: Low Adaptation Load: 0%
Force Adaptations
None
Registered Techniques
None
Emergency Override
Status: Available
[---------]
". . ." He stared as a profile of a person appeared on the screen.
"Marcellus Severan...?" He repeated that name.
"Never heard of him, who the fuck is he?"
"Force? Core? Affiliation? Military Group? Having some context would’ve been ideal!"
*Buzz*
Suddenly, the phone in hands buzzed.
He looked down at the phone in hands, the same phone that opened with his FaceId.
It displayed an unknown number.
He thought for moments as it buzzed for a while, and contemplated whether he should pick it up or not.
But considering the situation, this call might give him some more clues himself.
*Click*
He answered the call, and brought the phone near his ear.
"..."
"..."
There was silence for moments, none of the side spoke anything.
"I assume you’ve seen the room." The man on the other end of the call spoke.
His voice was calm, matured.
"..." Marcellus did not reply, he just stared at the bodies of women.
The pause suggested that he did, infact see the room.
"My employer wants you to know that this concludes his first warning," the man on the call said.
"Warning?" Marcellus narrowed his brows.
"You may interpret it however you want," the man said.
"Then tell your employer, I received their message," Marcellus replied.
"I shall."
*Click*
And the call disconnected.
"...what the fuck..."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter