Evolution: Harbinger of Chaos

A shadow passed the doorway, and a man in a crisp white coat stepped inside. His presence was calm yet commanding, his sharp gaze softening as it settled on Daniel.

"Hello, Daniel. I'm Doctor Aksel," the man introduced himself, stepping closer. "It's good to see you awake. We were starting to worry."

Daniel blinked, his groggy mind struggling to process the words. He hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

Sensing the storm brewing behind Daniel's silence, Doctor Aksel offered a kind smile. "How are you feeling?"

The question echoed in Daniel's mind, as though reverberating in an empty room.

How are you feeling?

It was a simple question, but Daniel found himself unable to grasp an answer. It was like solving a puzzle without edges, each piece jagged and incomplete.

"Where...am I?" Daniel's voice croaked, the words tumbling from his lips before he realized it.

"You're at CitySummit Hospital," Doctor Aksel replied, his tone measured and patient. "You've been here for four days."

Four days. The words floated in the air, feeling as unreal as the sterile room around him.

"What... happened to me?"

Doctor Aksel tilted his head slightly. "That's something we'd like to know as well. You've been in a coma for six days, and your recovery is... extraordinary."

Six days.

Daniel's chest tightened. His memories were a jumbled mess of fragmented images and sensations.

The doctor approached with a clipboard in hand, asking Daniel a series of routine questions. Daniel answered them as best as he could, his responses halting and uncertain.

When the check-up was complete, Doctor Aksel's expression grew thoughtful. "Your body appears to be fine, but your brain endured significant trauma. Considering the state you were in when they found you, it's nothing short of a miracle that you're alive—and even more remarkable that you've woken up so soon."

Daniel's mind spiraled into a whirlwind of questions. For every answer the doctor provided, another question arose.

"S-Sir," Daniel stammered, his voice trembling. "My body… my arm…? How?"

Doctor Aksel frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't quite understand. Are you experiencing any pain? You mentioned your arm—which one?"

"No!" Daniel's voice cracked with urgency. "I mean… it was gone. The reindeer—it…" His words faltered, tripping over themselves in a rush of half-formed thoughts.

Doctor Aksel's gaze softened, concern flickering in his eyes. "Daniel, I need you to take things one step at a time. You've been through a lot, and your mind needs rest. When you're ready, we'll talk more."

"But—" Daniel started, his desperation bubbling to the surface before it was quelled by uncertainty. "Okay…"

"Good. We'll run more tests to ensure everything is fine. Your teachers, Mister Rowen and Miss Dahlia, will be visiting you soon. They were quite worried about you. Your classmates, too."

Daniel stiffened.

Worried? About me?

The idea felt alien. All his life, Daniel had been a ghost, drifting through the cracks of the world's attention. He was the one with face blindness, yet it was the world that had forgotten him.

"My… classmates?" he murmured, disbelief lacing his voice.

Doctor Aksel nodded, his smile kind. "Yes, you have caring friends. That lovely girl, in particular, will be especially elated to learn you've woken up."

Daniel's heart sank into a whirlpool of confusion. The doctor's words made no sense. Who among his classmates cared enough to draw such a remark?

"Angela…?" The name surfaced unbidden, his thoughts drifting to the blonde girl who had rejected his confession mere days before the accident.

Shaking off the thought, Daniel forced himself to focus. "What about my family? Max? My parents?"

"We've informed them. Your brother visits every day without fail," Doctor Aksel replied warmly. "As for your parents, they're currently away on a business trip, yes? Your father has been following your progress closely. They know you've woken up."

With that, Doctor Aksel excused himself, leaving Daniel to the care of the nurses.

The nurses asked their own set of questions—Did he need anything? Was he in pain?—before bustling about the room and eventually leaving him alone to rest.

Silence enveloped the room, but Daniel's mind refused to settle.

His thoughts turned inward, circling the mysteries surrounding his situation. According to the doctor, there had been an accident, and Daniel had been separated from the bus. That much aligned with his fragmented memories.

But everything else…

Daniel flexed his fingers, his right arm moving easily now. The stiffness was gone, but the feeling of dissonance remained.

This isn't my body.

It felt wrong. Alien.

He shut his eyes, the image of his battered, bloodied form flashing vividly in his mind. His stomach churned as he recalled the gory aftermath of his fight against the reindeer.

The doctor had said his body was fine when they found him, but that couldn't be right. If it was, then everything—his battle, the agony—was a lie.

How did they find me?

Daniel clenched his fists, the thought gnawing at him.

The mention of his classmates lingered in his mind. A girl in particular would be elated that he'd woken up.

Daniel scoffed. It was absurd. If anyone cared, it was Ethan—and only Ethan. The rest of them barely noticed him, except when he was the target of Leonardo's cruelty.

"Monster."

The word echoed in his thoughts, accompanied by the haunting visions from the fog. The images had felt too vivid, too real. It was as if they were more than nightmares—more than memories.

Daniel stared at his hand, flexing his fingers absently. He blinked, and his hand transformed.

Golden scales shimmered along his skin, his fingers elongating into sharp, clawed appendages.

Daniel's breath caught in his throat. He blinked again, and his hand was grey, smooth and webbed like a sea creature's.

One more blink, and it was normal.

Daniel's chest heaved as he shut his eyes tightly, his voice a trembling whisper.

[What's happening to me?]

"What's happening to me?"

The words echoed back in dual tones—his voice, and the raspy, primal voice he'd heard earlier.

The room held no answers. Only the steady hum of machines bore witness to his confusion, their rhythm as relentless as the questions clawing at his mind.