Chapter 1 - The Liberation Program

I refused to take my medicine on the day of my death. I was already going to die, what was the point?

The medications always made me dizzy and lightheaded, and I wanted to see the world as it was for one last time. With the help of my mother, who tried her best to put on a brave face for my sake, I visited all of my favorite places in my city. I enjoyed one last meal from my favorite burger shop and visited the Bosphorus Strait to watch Marmara's calm, marble-like waters.

I could hear my mother suppressing her sobs behind me, which made all of this even more painful. In my short, twenty-year life, I hadn't achieved much. I had failed the college entrance exams multiple times and I was what many would consider a "disappointment" to my mom, who had spent a lot of her savings on my education. She had thrown her life away to raise me as a single mother, yet I had spent most of my time playing pointless video games to run away from all my responsibilities. Until I was diagnosed with cancer, that is.

Maybe it is wrong to say this, but I actually… enjoyed those first few weeks after my diagnosis. My mom looked at me with something other than frustration for the first time—she wasn't disappointed and I felt genuine love and compassion. My old friends from high school, who hadn't even bothered to send me a single text message after our graduation had suddenly started calling me, expressing their sadness and saying how they wanted to see me.

Perhaps they were just trying to ease their conscience, but the sudden attention I got made me feel happy regardless. In retrospect, I can see that this happiness was just an illusion that I believed to be real to spare myself from the horrors of my inevitable death. Can you blame me, though? Never once had I believed that I was going to die, even when every single doctor's appointment should have shown me otherwise.

When you are young, death is just something that happens to others—you never think about it until it comes knocking. Still, I ignored that knock completely. Even though my life until that point had been nothing but a meaningless nineteen years, I still felt that I was strong enough, that I could beat cancer and get better, then make up for all the missed opportunities I had in my life. Even after sarcoma took my left arm below the elbow and spread to my lungs, I still believed that I would take control of my life back again to rise from the ashes.

Alas, there is a moment in every man's life when they realize they are not the main character—that they won't be realizing any of their dreams. That God has no plans for them.

For me, it was when my doctor had said "I'm afraid the treatments didn't work. You aren't going to get better." I don't remember that day too well—everything is shrouded behind a blurry cloud. I only vividly remember the cries of my mom beside me, though the word "cry" is not enough to describe the sound a mother makes after learning that their child is going to die.

A sudden burst of sorrow and despair rose from my stomach and I started to shake. I couldn't hold my tears any longer, as I sat in my wheelchair. What did I do to deserve any of this? Why do I have to be the one dying when there are so many people deserving death?

I contemplated this a lot after my doctor broke the news to me. I was never a religious person, but thinking about this constantly made me lose what was left of my faith. I had concluded that either God wasn't real, or that he was the most cruel son of a bitch to ever exist. A bit of an edgy thing to say, I admit, but I still think it's accurate.

After I got calmer, my mom rode my wheelchair on the cobblestone pavement next to the Bosphorus. We bought some simit from a street vendor to throw at the seagulls and watched them catch the pieces of the traditional Turkish bagel in the air. For a while, I even forgot I was dying. People around me going through their everyday lives, children playing in the park, their white shirts painted green from the grass, lovers holding hands and watching the scenery… It all made me feel like I was also a part of this mundane routine.

Yet, I wasn't, and forgetting the inevitable didn't make it unreal. I started to feel sleepy as the sun slowly painted the sky with its orange brush. I had always heard that sick people knew when they were about to die, but I had never believed that. I always thought it was just a simple romanticization of a terrifying concept.

Until this morning, at least. I do not know how to describe it, but I just knew this was it. I knew when I left the house I wasn't going back, and now, everything was surprisingly romantic: watching the sunset, hearing the squeals of the seagulls circling overhead… I thought I would feel afraid, but as my consciousness faded away, I was content. I let the darkness embrace me like a caring mother.
And then there was nothing.

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[Simulation Completed!]

What?

[Subject: 7117]
[Simulation Name: Kayra Arslan]
[Your stats are now being evaluated through your experiences. This process can take a few hours, please wait.]

What is this?

My consciousness came back somehow, and I was… floating? No, it wasn't like floating. I couldn't see, hear, or feel anything. It was almost as if I was floating in space, yet none of my senses worked—all I could do was think.

I could remember the moment of my death like it was just a few seconds ago, yet at the same time, it felt like an eternity before the robotic female voice pulled me back to consciousness. A simulation, she said?

I didn't know what to think. Was I really in a simulation this whole time? The simulation hypothesis was a fairly popular theory, sure, but to think that it was real… Was this a joke? Maybe I had simply passed out and I was dreaming now. Or maybe someone was just pulling a tasteless prank on me. Either way, there was nothing I could do, as I had no limbs to move, no mouth to speak, and certainly no eyes to see.

Evaluating my stats. Is this like those shitty isekai stories I read a lot when I was in high school? No, that seemed absurd. Even if this was indeed a simulation, it was just that, a simulation. Nothing more.

Still, if I was living in a simulation for my entire life, then what the hell was happening right now? Were they sending my consciousness into another simulation, or was I getting revived in the future or something? In any case, I had no other choice but to wait, so I did until I heard another voice.

[Evaluation completed! Here is the final stat sheet of your body, along with the average simulation scores of other Synthetics:

Strength: 1 (Average: 9)
Dexterity: 1 (Average: 8)
Intelligence: 11 (Average: 10)
Essence: 0 (Average: 0)
Willpower: 28 (Average: 7)
Vitality: 1 (Average: 8)
Vigor: 9 (Average: 8)
Charisma: 3 (Average: 7)]

Wow, it indeed gave me stats.

Considering my body had weathered a whole year of chemotherapy, I wasn't surprised that almost all my physical stats were the lowest possible score. My body was destroyed so much before I died, that I could count every single rib on my chest easily which was probably also why my charisma was so low.

I always thought myself to be smarter than average, though to be honest, most people probably think the same. Can't complain, though, still above average.

When I saw my willpower score, however, my jaw would drop to the floor if I had one. Sure, it didn't surprise me that it was high, considering what I had gone through in my life, but the quadruple of the average? Now, that was exciting.

While the other low scores were disheartening, I did not care much about them. If all these meant that I could have a second chance in life, I couldn't care less about having a weak body.

[Genius level stats detected! Your body is now being prepared for the Liberation Program. Please wait.]
[Body preparation completed. Initiating the Conflux.]
[Injecting nanorobots…]
[Injection completed… No side effects were observed.]
[Injecting Emyprean blood…]
[Injection completed. No side effects were observed.]
[Connecting to Veritas…]
[Connection established.]
[Veritas is now evaluating your experiences.]
[Evaluation completed.]
[Veritas is now initiating the Epiphany.]
[…]
[…]
[Congratulations, Subject 7117! You have successfully had an Epiphany and awakened your first path!][

[Path of Suffering:

Type: Mental
Grade: F+

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

The more your body is in physical pain, the stronger you will be. Depending on your pain level, your Willpower score will be added to your STR and DEX.
Pain level - Meager: Nothing
Pain level - Moderate: Nothing
Pain level - High: +(WILL)/10
Pain level - Agony: +(WILL)/5]

[Talent unlocked!]

[Path of Suffering - Affliction Awareness

Grade: F+

You can see your current pain level.]

[Retriving the historical data of the last century.]
[Data retrieved. Transfering…]

A wave of history crushed against my mind, pushing my consciousness to its absolute limits. Information about the events of the past pressed down on my thoughts, yet I found it impossible to comprehend any of it. Memories of technological advancements, encountering alien races, cosmic wars, and the destruction of Earth flooded every single fiber of my brain—the future became the present, and the present became the past, leaving the crumbs of historical knowledge in my mind as they passed.

[Data transfer completed.]

[Welcome, Mr. Kayra. You are about to exit the simulation. In order for you to not panic, I will be giving some information about your current state. In a few minutes, you will be waking up inside a dark, cramped capsule, and it is natural to feel suffocated. But do not panic and scream. Our esteemed medical staff will be helping you as soon as possible and explain everything to you in utmost detail.]

Those few minutes felt like mere seconds, and I found myself lying inside a dark, tubular capsule. Hundreds of cables sank deep into my flesh, but what caught my attention immediately was my left arm. It was… there. It was thinner than my right arm, probably because I hadn't used it in a long time in the simulation, but it was still there. As I moved my head to look at my arm, however, I felt strands of hair tickling my forehead and my eyes swelled up. I was… alive.

I had to close my eyes as the capsule started to open, letting white light fill the dark interior of the metal capsule. The light pierced my eyes even behind my eyelids, coloring the darkness of my vision with orange hues. Weird shapes floated in my sight as I slowly half-opened my eyes.

Two doctors with lab coats stood beside my capsule and hurried to remove all the cables around my fragile body as soon as the lids were open. The cables left little wounds on my body like needles as they were getting pulled out of my skin, but the second doctor held a wet piece of cotton that stopped the bleeding as soon as it was rubbed on my wounds.

With a groan, I attempted to shift my limbs, but they felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive. Every single move sent aches throughout my body as my muscles resisted the order given to them.

My head spun with dizziness. Disoriented, I let the doctors move my body for me as they helped me straighten up.

"Welcome, Mr. Kayra," said one of them in English. "Please do not panic, you are in good hands. We will explain everything to you after some preliminary tests."

The low-lit, narrow room looked more like a hallway than an actual room. Dozens of big, metal lids covered the walls like a mortuary cooler, and I quickly realized that my capsule was inside one of these small chambers just a moment ago.

The doctor who spoke before must have realized my startled look at the room, as he quickly tried to comfort me. "Do not let the appearance of this room fool you, we won't harm you. Please nod if you understand me."

I nodded.

"Great, it seems you are not in shock. The same cannot be said for many people who came before you. Not surprising, though, given your willpower. You must have endured a lot in that simulation." He raised a finger and moved it around my vision. "Can you follow the tip of my finger with your eyes, please? Good, good. Everything seems to be in order. The capsule can do a plethora of tests, ranging from taking blood samples to CT or MRI scans, so I already know you are fine. Well, mostly. I don't know what happened in your simulation but your body is awfully weak. The good news is, your illnesses do not transfer into your real body from the simulation, though the same thing cannot be said for the effects of the said illnesses, since your brain needs to be tricked in order to—"

"Dr. Dimitri," said the other doctor, "You are overwhelming him."

"Ah, my apologies. You must be confused."

I was. I couldn't take my eyes off my weak, stick-like left arm, feeling alienated towards my own limb. I touched my hair—I had forgotten how the soft strands felt between my fingers. The doctors did a few more physical examinations, but I was completely out of it. I thought I had readied myself for this during that stat allocation, but being reborn on a cancer-free body inside a futuristic capsule was indeed too overwhelming.

They gently laid me down on a gurney and led me out of the morgue-like room. I closed my eyes as the white hospital lights in the corridor blinded me for the whole journey through several floors.

Fortunately, the curtains of the room they brought me were pulled, and I could open my eyes even for a little. They transferred my unresponsive body onto the stretcher and left me alone.

I do not remember exactly how long I stayed in that room, but it was long enough that the lights in the room became softer and the stiffness in my body began to loosen up. I couldn't say the same for my mind, though, as I just watched the blank ceiling for the entire time.

I heard a knock on my door and before waiting for an answer, two gentlemen entered.

One of them, an Asian man, carried a leather briefcase, his black hair thinning from the sides. He wore a simple green shirt and jeans and he seemed more like an everyday citizen, completely contrasting the other guy accompanying him.

The other wore a black suit that garbed him tightly, his muscles pushing the fabric to its utmost limits. His head had no traces of hair left, exposing his smooth and shiny skin. Towering at almost two meters, this Hispanic-looking guy watched me with a stern face, though his eyes were covered behind fancy sunglasses.

"Kayra Arslan," the Hispanic guy approached me, "The report says the data transfer was successful. I assume you know why we are here."

I looked at my skinny hands, diving deep into the information loaded in my brain. "Kind of."

The Asian man cleared his throat. "I'm Hayabusa Tanaka, your will-be advisor in the Millenium Academy of New Constantinople. And this is Mr. Garcia, the Vice-Chancellor of the Academy."

"Will-be?" I said, averting my eyes. "You are that sure that I'm going to accept your offer?"

"This," Garcia said, "isn't an offer. You and all the other Synthetics are created to be pathwalkers, and a pathwalker you'll be."

"Let me get this straight," I forced my aching body to sit straight. "You genetically created me, built a whole-ass simulation to see if I'm worthy to be whatever this pathwalker thing is, and you are forcing me to be a soldier for your war? Fuck you."

Garcia rushed towards me and before I could even have time to react, punched the nightstand before my bed, crushing the wooden furniture to pieces. "Do you," his low voice echoed in the hospital room, "have any idea what's at stake here?"

"I do, and I don't give a fuck."

"Mr. Garcia," Hayabusa moved himself between him and me, raising both his hands towards Garcia. "Please, let's be calm about this. Kayra just went through a terrible experience and doesn't know what's going on."

After making sure Garcia wasn't going to make another sudden move, he turned towards me. "Kayra, do you know what Veritas is?"

"The Supreme A.I. you found on some ancient ruins on Mars?"

"Yes. As part of the Liberation Program, you are now connected to Veritas and able to use Paths. Magical powers that grant you unthinkable abilities. You have a very rare chance to become someone that the entire Milky Way can look up to, it'd be a waste to not enroll in our academy. We can teach you how to harness the power inside you and unlock your true potential. Become an asset for humanity in our war against the Empyreans."

"I… I did not want any of this. I don't want to waste this second chance by dying in a cosmic war."

"Do you," said Garcia, crossing his arms, calmer than before, "rather die like a rat? In some backstreet begging for money, not getting accepted anywhere because of your Synthetic nature? Can you survive in this new world without any connections, money, or knowledge? With a body like that, no less?"

"So… You're putting me in a shitty situation and forcing me to choose the lesser of the two evils."

"I'm sorry," said Hayabusa, "Liberation Program is… cruel, to say the least. It's a controversial one, and we wouldn't do it if the Concordant didn't force us. What happened, happened, though, and all you can do right now is to make the best of this chance you have been given. Trust me, we're not the bad guys you make us out to be. MANC, the Millenium Academy of New Constantinople, is one of the best academies here on Earth."

Hayabusa stopped for a moment, his eyebrows loosening. "I don't know what happened in your simulation, but from your body, it certainly doesn't seem it was pleasant. Whatever you have gone through, we are offering you a chance to not just survive, but thrive, in your new life."

I let out a long, low sigh, my arms sitting uncomfortably on the side. "Can I… even become what you want me to be with a body like this? The simulation said I had the stats of a genius but… It doesn't feel like that at all."

Hayabusa put a hand on my shoulder. "Well, I'm not going to sugarcoat it, it's not going to be easy. It is a long and arduous road, becoming a pathwalker. But looking at your only high stat… You're no stranger to walking challenging roads, am I mistaken? Yes, it's going to be hard, but your body can be healed. Your muscles can be built up. Your life can have a meaning."

I stopped for a moment, the memories of my past life pouring down on my mind. I had dreams. Dreams that were taken away from me by cancer. Dreams that were replaced by survival. It was only natural for me to wish to have a longer life in this new world too, but… Hayabusa was right. Living was not a dream anymore—that dream had become reality right now, living in a cancer-free body.

Why, then, I thought, shouldn't I strive to realize my old dreams? Dreams of becoming an important person, making my mother proud.

"Fine." I looked at Garcia dead in the eye. "I accept. I'll become a pathwalker."