The chamber is filled with the panicked yells and a repeated “What the Hell?” being bounced off by the room’s padded walls over and over as Smith panics, frightened and shocked by the apparent resurrection of his body. What bugged him off even more was the fact that he doesn’t seem to be having any cybernetic configurations.

  “Calm down, sergeant. It’s alright.” Anthony spoke through the microphone, his voice reaching the now hypersensitive ears of the poor man. “You’ve just been enhanced.. in a different way. I’m sure you know of the cyborgs in Taiwan, but you’re not that.”

  Even before the sentence was finished, Andrew already knew what to say, or what the full sentence was. Overwhelmed, he tried to mutter a weak demand to the Lieutenant General.

  “I want an explanation… now.” Andrew demanded, panicked and confused. Anthony proceeded to explain the entire whole ‘Project Stoneheart’ to him. From the discovery of the Native American Deity, to his death, which was gruesome to say the least, and finally his surgery and resurrection.

  Obviously, he was basically dumbfounded. As a Christian-turned-agnostic, he never expected in his entire lifetime to know that God, or Gods in this sense, exist at all. Or being turned into one.

  “So… let me get this straight.” Smith exclaimed, as he took time to adjust his breath. “I’m a.. God now? And I can’t die?”

  “That is correct, Sergeant.” Anthony replied through a speaker. He expected Smith to have millions of questions, and especially, a curious reaction. What he didn’t expect however, was him suddenly extending a large, red-colored fleshy tendril out of his back, to try and smash the protective glass dividing the viewing chamber, and Chamber 9.

  Another tendril formed, and crushed the speaker, turning it into crumbs of electronics and plastic. Smith suddenly yelled in anger.

  “YOU SHITHEADED LIMP-DICK JACKASS!” Smith’s tendril hit the glass again, which cracked to thousands of pieces from the sheer force. “YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO DO THIS!” He yelled, as Smith continuously hit the glass again and again.

  The Lieutenant General and Secretary immediately tumbled to the ground in shock, and ordered the call for security. One of the staff guarding them activated his handheld radio, screaming: “Sec Team, We need backup at Chamber 9! Immediately!”

  Smith continued to hit the glass, nearly shattering it until a concerned surgeon cut it off using a scalpel, sending it hurling down to the ground. That was a major blunder, as another tendril generated again, and engulfed the surgeon’s neck.

  “Jeez…” Smith’s mouth bubbled. “Think you’re some kind of hero?” Smith’s hand, which has been unused, began to generate a sharp, crescent-shaped bone extension, arcing from wrist to fingertips. The hand shuddered in anger, as he tightened the tendril and slowly pressed the wrist blade on the surgeon’s gut, as if preparing to pierce it.

  Suddenly, armed men in black suits broke into the room, and began firing tranquilizer darts towards Smith. He immediately fell unconscious once more.

  Even as the newest demigod in the world, Smith is still able to receive sedatives sent to his brain. The tendril and wrist blade immediately vanished into thin air, releasing the surgeon, who immediately took her chance to flee the room.

  The SecDef, still safe inside the room, watched with whatever vision was offered from the near-shattered glass, asking the Lieutenant General, “..How did he do that?”

  “Well sir,” Anthony replied. “If I’m being honest, I have no fucking idea.”

  Before any of them could say another word, Smith regained consciousness, and the tendril re-appeared. Multiple tendrils also began appearing out of his back once more, prompting all of the doctors and surgeons to flee the room in hurry.

  The security constructed a formation, and began raising their guns, but before they were even able to pull the trigger, the tendrils instantly extended in length, and subdued the entire security team, one by one in less than a second.

  Already frightened to the bones, the Secretary was escorted by Anthony, and the rest of the staff fled from the room, into the halls in panic.

  As everyone left, Smith’s tendrils began to lift his physical body from the ground, as he faces towards the already shattered glass. His tendrils began to change shape, as if preparing for a final blow. Claws began to appear from the tails of the tendrils, eventually forming into a bird-like claw, filled with bone and flesh. His crescent blades began to emerge from both wrists.

  He looked upward to the roof, and physically slammed himself to it, breaking the rebar and concrete holding it. He continued to rise and rise using his tendrils, using his tendril claws to grab to the remaining hard surface, as if they were boulders, until he reached the rooftop.

  His eyes were immediately blinded by the bright sun, casting its glow upon him. The warmth touched his unnatural body, caressing it.

  He felt something, his limbic parts activating after what felt like an eternity in the void. He felt.. sad? Well, he of course would feel sad. He was having peace in the void, finally able to remove himself off his problems and of the past.

  And then of course, the government and military would want to turn him into a super weapon, and send him back to the frontlines. “Typical politicians,” he thought to himself.

  As Smith began to lift himself upward, out of the building to fully expose himself to the outside world, he immediately heard the unmistakable noise of a helicopter, as it appeared behind him, slightly above his current altitude. “Is that a fucking Valor?”

  Before Smith was fully able to process his thought, bolts of plasma began striking on his back, effectively cutting off his tendrils, as they fell towards the ground. Turns out, security has been alarmed and pinged, and a helicopter was sent to handle it.

  Smith nearly fell, before his primal instincts brought him jumping high towards the air, landing towards on hard, breaking concrete and steel.

  Undeterred, he began forming tendrils of flesh once more, moving them like living whips. Their ends began to form something out of a horror movie, as they split open, revealing gaping maws of raw muscle and dense, sharp bones.

  As the crew inside the Valor began to zoom in, confirming on what they just saw, the tendrils began firing shards of bone sharper than any material on this world. Faster than the speed of sound, the shards howled as they hurled towards the helicopter.

  The crew came in clutch, as they tilted sideways and dodged most. Three shards penetrate through the fuselage, causing smoke to rise from the craters of the steel armor.

  The response was swift. Bolts of plasma began firing down once more. Smith extended another tendril to the broken hole left during the emergence, and retracted his body with inhuman speed. The helicopter switched to the alternative directive - target must not escape.

  The Auto-targeting systems of Valor finally locked in, and began firing a minigun of plasma rounds, plunging them into Smith’s torso, vaporizing them into gas. However, as soon as those holes were made, they were replaced by growing flesh and skin, as the bones inside rearranged themselves back into place.

  Smith was impressed, more so at himself. He’s doing all of this purely out of survival instincts, but his new body moved inhumanely, this is something he’d never felt before. He was amused.

  But then, just as he was about to rise back into place, the helicopter finishes an entire mini magazine of plasma bolts unto him. They thundered down on him, shredding down his body to pieces. Smith shielded himself with dozens of tendrils, all of which vaporized to gas, leaving his body exposed for more plasma.

  What was left is a piece of right hand, and the severed head of Smith Johnson. Smith falls into unconsciousness again, not knowing the regeneration process occurring afterwards on his body.

  -

  FIVE HOURS LATER

  “Trust me, Mr. Secretary, he just needs some understanding! I mean, you would freak out if you were reanimated too, right?” Anthony begged to Calvert, hoping he’d at least have some sort of understanding towards him, and at best, regain his approval. However, that will be easier said than done.

  As they both walked on the hallway, crossing chamber after chamber, Calvert continued to ignore him. Calvert had enough, millions of dollars wasted for a man that caused collateral damage to one of the most important Experimental Complex of the government.

  After some time, Calvert responded, “This man is near impossible to kill and he’s mentally unstable as of now.” As he faced towards Anthony and retorted, after several repeated pleas from the Lieutenant General.

  “He caused damage that’ll take months to fix, while we’re in a war economy. You do realize that when that damned monster wakes up, he’ll destroy not only Stoneveil, but THE ENTIRE COMPLEX!? You’ve just created a major pain in the ass for the country to handle now!”

  Silence followed, and both of them continued to walk. Anthony, after a moment of walking, stopped in his tracks. The SecDef was right. However, Anthony wasn’t about to back down.

  “..You’re wrong, Mr. Secretary.” Anthony replied.

  “You do realize what he is capable of, right? If we can just control his mind, he’ll be our loyal pet dog! Imagine what other things he can do to enemy soldiers? If he can destroy this facility, he can destroy an entire city filled with enemy soldiers! Please, sir, just one more chance.”

  The Secretary looked back at Anthony, and stopped, as well. He is right, this man could possibly be used to win this grandiose world war. He had little options, too. Thunderbird isn’t coming to a close, and the Navy definitely isn’t doing anything to stop the rampage in the Pacific and the Arctic.

  “..I’ll give you a last one, then. If he doesn’t go on a violent rampage, then I’ll allow for more testing. If not, you’re removed, officially. Do you understand?” Calvert exclaimed, declaring the stern risks. Anthony, now brightened up, and shook the Secretary’s hands. “I won’t let you down, sir. I promise.”

  As time passed, the two would go on to separate paths, as Calvert would exit the complex altogether, since the Secretary of Defense has more important issues to be handling with. Meanwhile, Anthony went to the control room of Chamber 27 on Fort Echo, the current chamber in which Smith is being restrained.

  Safe to say, he was terrified when he saw the video clip of Valor v. Smith. But also, a little bit excited to know what other weaponry he has in store. So, under approval by the commander of the facility, he was allowed access into the hastily repurposed Chamber 27.

  As soon as the Lieutenant General opened the door, the feel of sterile, recycled air lightly caressed his decorated uniform. Inside was a hastily-built control room, mostly occupied by a large floating hologram that resembled a control panel, with a tungsten and glass barrier dividing him and the now-unconscious Smith Johnson.

  The view was a gruesome one. With thin, sharp threads constantly scarring his regenerating torso keeps him distracted at best, with tungsten clamps around his wrists slicing his hands off every time he generates a wrist blade.

  And of course, to prevent any extending tendrils, his neck and spine was installed with the ASSET — Augmented Systematic Spinal Electronic Tool, as the name suggests, a spinal device - this time modified, and made to cut off anything that comes to say its greetings, and to apply drugs.

  “Deactivate the systems,” Anthony ordered sternly. “I have a convo to make.”

  As he finished his order, two heavily armed guards entered the room, as a safety measure if the worst ever happens. The staff, concerned, prayed to God that the monster facing them won’t immediately go on a blood frenzy.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  As ASSET and the iron clamps deactivate, falling to the ground, Smith immediately regains consciousness, and wakes up. The void was gone. And there stands the Lieutenant who, in his mind, was the one who orchestrated all of this.

  But he seems to maintain the same composure as before. “Is he a maniac?” He asked to himself. What kind of a human being would revive a man and then torture him?

  “Good evening, Mr. Johnson.” Said the Lieutenant General as he nervously asked him, “Can we have a talk? Just you and me.”

  There was a moment of silence, as both sides stared intently at one another, with Anthony scared for his life, and Smith, angry that the military weaponized him. Smith responded.

  “You… had no right.” He growled, his voice primal and pained. “I died, that was it. But you… Had to turn me into this..”

  Anthony maintained his composure, and spoke. The protective barrier, alongside the bulletproof glass, were relatively thick, however still allowed noise to enter in and out from it, so the conversation between them both can commence without the use of a microphone or a speaker system.

  Anthony responded. “No, Sergeant. We saved you, and preserved you. You are now more than what you were.” Anthony responded, calm and composed. “Have you forgotten your oath of enlistment? Life, death — doesn’t change what you swore.”

  Smith growled once more, his body begin to cut under the pressure of the tightened threads. “You didn’t save me, asshole.” He grunted against the pain. “You ruined me.”

  Anthony responded back with a stern voice. “I’ve read your file. You think dying on some goddamned hill was noble? That rotting six feet under is YOUR destiny? I’d tell you what, son. We got you back because we need warriors, not martyrs. We need people like you to win, and make a better future for ourselves, you included.”

  “I’m not your weapon.. I get to decide what I WANT, YOU HEAR ME!?” Smith’s eyes began to flash with pure red, enveloping his eyes as if preparing to shoot lasers.

  “Oh yes you are, sergeant! But not because of me, or the uniform, not even the battlefield,” Anthony retorted. “You made yourself into one. We only enhanced you.”

  The tension building up to this point was impalpable, and it is suffocating. Anthony continued. “I know, you didn’t ask for this, but neither did your comrades you bled with. You’re the best we had in Europe, and now you’re greater than the greatest.. You can take down a whole army. You belong to something bigger. And I hope you can accept that, Sarge.”

  Smith, now silenced, was left there to stand, alone, in pain, and to think.

  -

  Deadwood Testing Range, Ash Valley EC

  It has been another month after the resurrection of Smith Johnson.

  The dark of the night stretched vast and unending canvas, dotted with stars shining dimly, and painted with a crescent Moon. Even at Ash Valley, the Great Plains was filled with silence, a thick, humming quiet, as if the land is holding its breath. The eerie quiet provided a nice atmosphere, but not for long.

  HISS!

  The heavy sound of melting and sizzling filled the land wherever it went, as a spray of molten nickel ejected from the cornea of Smith’s eyes. It moved straightforward, defiant to charge at the greatness of nothing, before turning to the right in an instant, and striking a bipedal machine, drilling straight into the machine’s chest, melting its components.

  As the nickel reached the power cell of the machine, it immediately was frozen in place by the snap of Smith’s fingers, exploding the poor mechanical being.

  Then, a burst of plasma bolts fired upon him from dozens of machines clad in armor of tungsten. Smith dodged and danced between the rapid fire, performing inhuman leaps and stretches. Just a few seconds afterwards, the ground shook beneath them and tore open, as roots of flesh and bones began to appear and extend from where Smith is standing.

  From there, the roots reached below eight unsuspecting machines, and thrusted upward, growing towers of spikes of divine bones, that cut through the tungsten of the machines as if they were paper.

  The remaining machines launched and fired a plasma-charged cannonball, charging proudly towards him, about to obliterate the flesh and meat of the man. A millisecond before it even touches him, he extended a single finger, and held it in place, before grabbing it with the strength of his right arm, and threw it hurling upwards to the sky.

  Moments after, it began to fall to the ground, and Smith turned the hairs of his head into thick roots of flesh, twisting and knitting to support a forming, massive crescent bone ax that split the ball in two, sending them towards the ground and splattered to pieces.

  The machines charged once more, firing their guns and rifles in a futile, calculated attempt. Smith began to leap from them, deactivating and decapitating their heads, one by one, as his wrist fangs cut through them, like a predator capturing its prey.

  After a few minutes, the battlefield was left with detached roots of bone and flesh, the corpses of dozens of tungsten machines, and a victorious demigod. The scientists, standing near a safe distance from an observational post, stood in awe.

  “Nice work, Sergeant.” A reply came from behind him. Smith didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. LTG Anthony Freeman. However, today he came with guests to the camp.

  “Doing your daily work, I see?” Anthony smiled lightly as he glanced towards the broken machines that lay scattered across the battlefield, some having melted scars of nickel attached on them. Smith nodded, his expression remained monotone still.

  His eyes darted to the sides near Anthony. Two, well-dressed men, one in a suit and one in a blue uniform, as they stare towards the shirtless demigod standing over a battlefield of flesh and metal. Anthony notices, and asks Smith regarding it.

  “Oh, you haven’t met them, have you?” Anthony questions. Smith nods once more, not saying a word. “Well, this one with the blue uniform is Lt. Gen. Bell Hartman, of the Air Force. And here, we have the Secretary of Defense, Calvert Maxwell.”

  Smith was shocked. He didn’t expect guests so powerful came a thousand miles over, just to see him in person. Well, aside from Freeman, whom he sees often. He tries to walk to them, trying to shake their hands. But suddenly.

  CRACK!

  Everyone was stunned for a split second. Unbeknownst to him, his legs have generated roots of flesh and bones, already splitting the soil open. The scientists panicked, as suddenly, the roots thrusted upward, suddenly, the ground erupted as spikes of bones rose up to the air, towering over the onlookers. Smith stopped walking, shocked. Then, after a moment of silence:

  “Whoa.” The Air Force Lieutenant exclaimed.

  -

  The Black Chamber, Ash Valley EC

  This room doesn’t officially exist. It has no plaques, no window slits, and no hallway signs. Just a slab door beneath ten feet of concrete and dirt. It is the only room known not even by the on-site researchers. Just the bodyguards, and men of importance. Where men with power on their hands debate the fate of the world. Nothing is known here, only those who enter know what words were spoken.

  Inside, Calvert, Anthony and Bell debated over the future of the demigod and his role in the war against the demons of the East, after witnessing Smith accidentally demonstrating his powers.

  “So.. let me get this straight.” Calvert Maxwell spoke first, with a dry voice, tired of practically everything he has to do in this godforsaken world. “You want us to send this thing you call a man, Smith Johnson, to Taiwan? No drone control, no AI, just it.. or him.”

  Anthony, confident that his plan gets accepted anyways, responded. “He’s more than a man, he’s the force of nature in our hands, and he doesn’t jam, crash, and never misses.” This was a mockery to Bell Hartman, his old friend, and new rival, in the great war.

  “You should reconsider your words, friend.” Bell scoffs at the idea. “He just grew a forest of bones in Deadwood just because he was walking.” He is, or was the lead commander of Project Thunderbird, a similar project, however applied to jet planes and technology instead.

  It ended in failure, and he has been the face of mockery of the Air Force and relentlessly ridiculed by the Army ever since. “You think sending that thing to an MNNA is wise? Even my Thunderbirds are more controllable than him.” Bell continued.

  “Yeah, controllable to the point of crashing to mountains every flight test.” Anthony mocked Bell’s retaliation.

  “Enough. This isn’t about who gets a bigger black budget for these demigod projects.” Calvert exasperatedly stops the argument from escalating further. “This is about ethics, the eyes who will see what we’ve created. You think those MNNAs won’t react when we send a literal unkillable demigod to quote unquote, ‘help’ them?”

  Anthony responded swiftly. “With all due respect, Mr. Secretary.. the world doesn’t get to react to anything anymore. China has biomechs grown in lunar stations, and soldiers grown in labs built to withstand anything, and respond only to them. The only way to beat a monster is to beat it with another larger, scarier monster that at least still remembers it is human.”

  “Barely.” Bell muttered. “From what I read, that thing nearly destroyed Stoneveil before being subdued by a full minigun plasma mag.”

  “You know, Stoneheart didn’t take an AI or a targeting system. Just a human brain and voila.” Anthony responded in anger.

  Calvert cleaned his throat, trying to gain attention from both lieutenants. “I have decided, this proposal is accepted. But we still need someone to supervise him.”

  A moment of silence was met, as all three began to ponder what on earth could possibly handle a half-god. Suddenly, an idea struck Anthony, again.

  “We’re dealing with a Perfect Soldier here. So why not make clones out of him, or at the very least, enroll more soldiers to this project?”

  “And how would you do that?” Calvert curiously asked.

  “You know Smith is originally dead, right? We can use living soldiers instead, and implant them with half of the god-flesh. Additionally, we can clone his brain cells to create more mentally stable clones of himself, that won’t even have the slightest idea that they are clones!”

  “Oh great, why not do both of that?” Bell responded to the idea. He was then met with the faces of the two men looking at him.

  “Why are you all looking at me like that? You’re not seriously going to do both ideas, right sir?”

  Calvert nervously replied, “Well..” They will do both ideas, as it turns out.

  -

  Meanwhile, at the Interrogation Chamber, Ash Valley EC

  “So… what just happened there?” One of the researchers and staff, assigned to interview Smith, nervously asked, feeling the immense presence of the demigod man. She was one of the medical staff in Chamber 9 to witness his rage and power.

  “I don’t really know, ma’am.” Smith, in contrast responded nonchalantly. “I guess I forgot to detach my roots there.” The researcher looked at her with confused eyes. “Detach his roots?” The researcher thought to herself.

  “Oh, if you don’t know, I got this cool new power that makes me able to form roots from below, and make spikes grow out of it!” Smith spoke nonchalantly again, as if responding to the thoughts of the researcher like it was said out loud. “It’s like growing trees, but it’s much faster and is made of bone and flesh.”

  “Oh.. I see..” The researcher nods, fear still striking her at home with the memories of the last month incident, now covered up by the government. “Do you just gain.. powers suddenly like that?” He asked Smith.

  “Oh yeah, definitely, they just appear out of nowhere. I just had this new one. You probably haven’t seen it, but I can create bone armor! Best thing is they can’t get destroyed!” Smith answered enthusiastically. However, much to his dismay, this did not entertain or amuse the researcher. It in fact seems to make her terrified, based on the micro-expressions he’s getting from her.

  “..Are you afraid?” Smith now asked the researcher instead. “I mean, it’s alright man, no biggie. I understand.”

  “Oh.. yeah, kind of.” The researcher replied in a weak mutter. “I mean, you’re not exactly.. human.” She responded. Smith nodded in agreement.

  A moment of silence followed. Both of them stared at one another intently, the researcher astonished at what she is seeing, while Smith was just unable to look normally without staring. And then, their moment alone was quickly interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Sergeant Johnson, your resting comatose period is now.” A male voice from outside is heard, slipping through the door. “Come on, it’s your bedtime, big boy.”

  “Yeah, yeah I hear ya man.” Smith replied. “Sorry, gotta go.” He went on, and left the researcher to herself.

  Chamber 27, Ash Valley Underground EC

  As the ASSET was slowly reattached to the body and reactivated, Smith began to feel… more numb than ever. As if there was an accidental overdose. Still, he couldn’t care less, and carried on with the resting procedure. Not like it could affect him, anyways.

  Unbeknownst to him however, the sedatives applied this time, were overdosed to an unnatural level, in which not even a normal human could withstand. However, considering the fact he is not human anymore, he just passes it off as overdose.

  The surgeons enter once more. The assistants bring in an odder set of tools — a pair of tungsten-edged drilling machines, a marker, a small mechanical drone with a microscopic scalpel, and a plasma gun, carried by a soldier.

  The first stage of the operation began, as the soldier fired the phased plasma rifle at point-blank range, burrowing into the head of the man, leaving a slowly regenerating hole. The surgeons began frantically marking the hole, and activated the tungsten drill, which burrowed into the thick, near-impenetrable skull of the man.

  Carefully and slowly, it eventually gave through, making a small, gaping hole in the center of the maw of flesh. The drone was immediately fitted in, nearly breaking off as the shaking hands of the surgeons placed it on the hole. Time is running out.

  The automated drone began extending its nano-hands quickly into all corners of the delicate brain, hastily cutting chunks of each brain part and storing it. It continued to cut into the delicate tissues of the organ, collecting more neurons and cells of the brain. After just mere seconds, the drone was pulled out, and the wound healed itself back in place, as hair began covering it, leaving no trace of the intrusion into his head.

  The staff breathed a sigh of relief, and calmly left the room, leaving Smith on his own, again.

  Right nearby, the observation sub-chamber, staffed by no more than a dozen people and with the trio onlooking.

  “So, Lieutenant Anthony,” Calvert asked curiously. “What exactly will this do?”

  Anthony smiled. “Glad you asked sir. The brain cells and neurons are going to be synthetized and reproduced. You’ve heard of the rising industry, neurofactory, right? We’re basically doing what’s being done there. Making new brains just from brain cells.”

  Bell also raised a few questions. “Hold it. What about the god-flesh?”

  “..Where did you think your god-flesh came from?”

  “Uh, from a dead God, isn’t it obvious?” Bell replied to Anthony, before realizing his idiocy. “Oh.”

  “..Are we going to keep it a secret? You know, from him?” Calvert asked, once more.

  “Didn’t we all agree to that before?”

  -

  A week after, in the Interrogation Chamber.

  “Sergeant Smith Johnson, I believe that you are now ready to embark to Taiwan, and you are now promoted as a Staff Sergeant.” as Anthony gently patted Smith’s back.

  “After a month of training, I believe you have reached your fullest capabilities. But before you go…”

  The door of the chamber opened, and Smith, with his hypersensitive reflexes, quickly snapped his neck to look behind, and lo and behold…

  As he did so, 19 men and women flooded the room in orange and red jumpsuits. He was surprised. He did not expect guests to celebrate his deployment to Taiwan. However, these people won’t be the ones he’ll be waving at on the port. Rather, they’ll be the ones fighting alongside him.