God Emperor’s Angel of Death

He is a ten-year-old child who is being mechanically cut.

Although he has fallen asleep, his body is still twitching, and his painful dreams and sleepless nerves responded to the rejection caused by the operation.

They start with pain—the pain that pours out, the pain of pain deep into bones.

The pain is boundless, as if the tossing ocean rushes to the sky, rushing to and fro, swallowing time.

A few seconds of pulling and swelling into hours, a few hours of rupture and compression back to a few minutes, the past and the future are all dissolved in the present, tearing and spreading.

Red clouds bulged in the gray matter in his brain, and the pain turned into tingling again and again. One second they trembled like a knife cut, the next second turned into a package His flame.

He couldn't hear anything at all, the pain split all his other senses, leaving him nothing, only the wheels of torture that kept rolling and crushing on the endless end.

He should have been destroyed, they want him to acknowledge allegiance, surrender, so that he can succumb to the red ocean and the huge waves.

He can't even remember who they are, but that doesn't matter.

The key to everything is that he can never let go, he can never give in, so the pain continues, so he perseveres.

Then everything is over.

He yelled at the sudden end of the process, a cold feeling of emptiness flooded into him, and then he soared into the hazy, tumbling from one end to the other.

Maybe this is death, without any pain, it is the end of pain, and nothingness.

Then there was a voice from the void, hundreds of voices, whispering to accompany him across the void, only outside of hearing.

Then the color replaced the pitch black, and various images came one after another. There were all kinds of colors he had seen in his life, which were cut into pieces.

Sometimes he thought that he could even see the pattern and recognize the shape, like watching a picture through a sliding curtain of water, but then the pattern shattered and he returned to the colorful vortex.

Soshian's only remaining consciousness tells him that he is undergoing an operation without injection of anesthetic, which is usually enough to kill an adult.

But he told himself that he must be patient if he wants to live.

——————

He is a twelve-year-old child who is being reshaped.

Two strong hearts are beating in his open chest. The second new organ is smaller than the new heart, which will change the growth of his bones and stimulate his skeleton in the course of his life. Absorb unnatural minerals.

Many hands, some of which are human and some of which are mechanical, cut and sutured the boy's body without shaking, implanting new organs into it.

The boy trembled again, his eyes opened for a moment, and something cold touched the skin under his eyes.

His vision began to become clear, and he tried to blink again.

A god shook the head to the boy. The gray robes covered his strong muscles. A starlight tattoo covered his chest and neck. His eyes were gray with calmness.

"Don't do that—"

A voice rang beside him, soft but very firm.

"Your eyelids are fixed and opened. Trying to blink too hard will tear them off."

The boy tried to resist, but was soon wrapped in sleepiness .

He felt that it was just a moment, as if he was sinking into the deep sea of ​​his hometown world.

He obeyed because the chemicals in his blood forced him to obey.

——————

He is a fourteen-year-old child who is destined to be different.

The third organ was implanted in his chest not far from the new heart. While the bone-strengthening organ changed his skeleton to rely on new minerals for growth, the muscles became stronger The organ will generate a lot of hormones to strengthen his muscles.

Primaris Apothecary sutured the boy's medical wound, and then moved a yellow wrench.

The restraints that kept the boy upright were released, and he fell forward to the ground.

He lay there for a few seconds, breathing heavily, then propped himself up on his knees.

"Call..."

He started to ask, but the pain in his throat and lungs made him stop.

"What's your name?"

Primaris Apothecary stopped and looked down at him, the tattoo on his right side shaking on his face.

"My name is reserved for myself, not for you."

The boy wanted to refute, but his mouth was dry.

"Most people will ask me why this is."

Primaris Apothecary shook the head.

"I know why."

The boy said stubbornly, and Primaris Apothecary raised one of his brows.

"You think I am a failed product."

Primaris Apothecary shook the head again, hesitated, and then pulled him up.

"No."

He replied and led the boy to the rest of the hall.

Under the frosty roof, rows of metal iron frames are arranged and stretched. In the middle of each frame, there is a human figure standing naked, bound and covered by several circles of ceramic steel.

Many helmets cover their faces in the same manner as Primaris Apothecary took off the boy's head.

When there is light flickering at the edge of their vision, their bodies are shaking, and many tubes are connected to their arms and chest.

The boy can see the blood vessels bulging under the skin where the needle was inserted. He rubbed his arms and felt the tingling of those wounds. Many of those figures were leaning loosely. On the restraints, blood stains covered their bald skin.

Many servants wearing red robes and one-eyed masks moved among the rows of shelves, pulled loose bodies from the restraints, and discarded them on many trucks.

1st Stage is already one in a hundred miles.

This cold reality appeared in the boy's mind, Primaris Apothecary had told him, but he had doubted it.

"That's what the failed product looks like."

Primaris Apothecary points to a figure that fell from the shelf due to the cancellation of the binding. The young man is still alive, but It only survived.

Blood flowed from his mouth, his eyes rolled, his arms and legs braced indiscriminately trying to stand up, and then he was attacked by the slave laborers. The young man was like a wild beast. crazy.

In the end, one of them inserted a thick tube into the back of the young man’s head, and then there was a bang and fracture sound. Then the young man fell, and the blood fell from his skull. Leak in the hole.

"We don't want you to fail, we want you to succeed."

"I won't fail!"

The boy snarled, and the scene was deeply pierced Hurt him.

The Primaris Apothecary looked down towards the boy, and then a trace of relief flashed in his gray eyes.

"Very good."

At this time, the child is no longer a human being.

This night’s work is to achieve this goal. Time will tell people how different the boy will become.

——————

He is a fifteen-year-old child, a new god waiting to rise.

When they cut him, he can feel it in most cases, but he is numb. They dig out large pieces of flesh and blood very roughly and then replace them with fresh organs and implant them in those places.

Before this, he had understood why his operation could not be injected with anesthetic. [ The steps of the Grey Marrow must be carried out while he is fully awake.

When they ended, the pain returned slowly, as if a ball of iron wire was tied into his chest.

He didn't show a trace of the pain, because he already knew some things that mortals could not touch, the new organs implanted and the things brought by hypnosis.

"You accepted it well, child."

The gray-eyed Primaris Apothecary said with a smile, while he examined a series of fixed stitches lined up along the center of the boy's chest. .

"Even if we go so far, some will still die here."

"Most."

The boy's voice is hoarse and his vocal cords are Was changed.

The Primaris Apothecary looked up towards him, his gray eyes looked straight over, and the boy stared back without blinking.

"Most of them will die before all this is over."

"Yes, they will die."

The structure of his thinking has changed. He can feel that information and experience have become clearer, the gap between thinking and action has narrowed, and some emotions have withered and faded.

The things in his memory that happened in the past drifted away, and he could still see it, but it felt like something that didn't really belong to him.

At the same time, new memories filled his mind, some clear, some vague and mixed, he knew more than he had before, but he didn't understand how this happened.

The machine they buckled on his head did this. He knew very well that instilling change in his mind was like pouring liquid metal into a mold.

The pain got worse, but his ability to endure them also grew. The pain from surgery and hypnosis became many islands in the vast and deep ocean.

Time has lost its meaning, and life has experienced many different pains.

Except for Primaris Apothecary, which flashes through the fog of pain, he has never seen any living person again. The only words he hears are those who move his limbs according to the first stage adjustment arrangement and repeat the remote control commands. The machine servant.

Everything seems so lifeless.