Chains of Gravity, Shackles of Memory

As the minutes bled into moments, and an increasing number of clustered gravitational waves locked onto her, her complexion grew progressively paler.

Though the individual might of each wave was as negligible as an ant biting her ankle, the cumulative force of millions of such ‘ants’ converging on a single point could topple even mountains.

“Power system imbalanced, emergency energy about to be activated…”

Plunging as if into a sea of mercury, her head grew oppressively heavy, and even her thoughts seemed to crawl at a snail’s pace. The formidable restraint device appeared to impede the very flow of signals within her being.

She began to perceive millions of invisible hands encircling her ankles, striving to drag her into the fathomless abyss.

‘So agonizingly close…’

Her fingers splayed, the Cold Tide lay dormant, breathtakingly tranquil and within arm’s reach. Yet, for the glimmering form ensnared by the gravitational field, it felt as though every cell in her body bore a ten-ton shackle. Even the slightest extension of her fingertips would cause them to grow impossibly heavier.

The landscape within her vision warped under the crushing grip of gravity. An invisible barrier, a formidable obstruction, now stood between her and the path to freedom.

“Warning: Gravitational core experiencing intense compression. Power system severely damaged. Nanomechanical factory 80% incapacitated. Swarm connection severed. Shutting down all observation modules. Initiating [Hibernation Mode] in five seconds.”

‘I’ll hibernate your grandmother’s leg… I can’t fall asleep here… I’ll… die…’ Darkness then descended, shrouding her vision.

At that very moment, the cerulean glow enveloping Subject X almost entirely vanished, leaving her body to emit a scalding mist. She maintained the semblance of climbing an invisible staircase, slowly striving skyward. Yet, tens of thousands of gravitational waves, like chains snaking from the ocean floor, coiled around every inch of her luminous form, piercing deep into her very bones, firmly arresting her progress.

‘Damn it all… I won’t accept this… Still not fast enough…’

The energy conduits from both the gravitational core and the cold fusion core had been violently ruptured and severely obstructed by the overwhelming tidal forces. Subject X’s limbs gradually stiffened, and the electromagnetic field sustaining her buoyancy slowly gave way. Her half-ton body plummeted uncontrollably towards the ocean’s surface. Yet, sustained by an unknown, fierce will, she still reached out towards the starry expanse, as if it harbored her final vestiges of hope.

‘I don’t want to die… Oh, God, if you truly exist, please help me. I’ll give anything.’

She knew deep down that such a desperate plea was merely a beautiful, unattainable fantasy. Moreover, as an atheist possessing extraordinary power, to pray to a deity on the brink of death felt utterly ludicrous. The words had barely left her lips when regret already seized her.

‘No, I am a materialist. I don’t believe in ephemeral gods. Gravitational core, you cost five trillion—give me some power! Aren’t you supposed to be humanity’s future?’

With a resounding plop, the blue sun plunged into the abyssal depths, unleashing a colossal spray of mist that seemed to blur the very aurora above.

A tide of frigid cold engulfed her consciousness. Subject X felt as though she had plummeted ten thousand meters onto a diamond-spiked trap, the pain searing through every nerve like an inferno. Following this, an oppressive cascade of mountains, seemingly falling from the heavens, crushed her deeper into the seabed.

‘It hurts so much… How long has it been since I suffered such grievous wounds? If only I had been a little faster. Just a little faster, and I wouldn’t have been ensnared by such a simple trap.’

She did not dwell on her own recklessness, but rather concluded that her power simply fell short.

If she possessed the strength to overturn an entire world with her bare hands, how could she possibly be confined by a mere gravitational trap from the Heart of the Galaxy?

In truth, however, no matter how formidable Subject X became, it was always to no avail. She perpetually sought to challenge beings far more powerful than herself, deliberately courting hardship, and inevitably emerged covered in scars—a veritable masochist. The experimenters, who observed her relentlessly torturing herself with various instruments, pushing her limits to the breaking point, all deemed her utterly insane.

She understood, with chilling clarity, that she had been ill for a very long time.

‘Ah, yes, I am sick. I have a terminal illness—a malady where a lack of freedom means death. I refuse to live in that kind of hell any longer.’

The scenes from the “Guiding Light” laboratory flashed vividly before her eyes.

“Big sister,” a child, half their head swathed in bandages, tugged at her sleeve. Their arm, no thicker than a withered branch, looked as though it might crumble at the slightest touch. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

From their silver-white mechanical prosthetic eye, a searing red glow emanated.

She offered no reply.

“The uncles say the surgery has a hundred percent success rate. We’ll definitely make it through; I’m the only boy in our group who passed the ‘brain nerve quantization modification.’ Once we endure the surgery, we can become as strong as you. Then, we can save humanity together, save the world, and become beloved superheroes. But… I still feel a little uneasy…”

‘You fool. A hundred percent success rate? That’s only because I was the first—and the only—qualified subject. You are all merely scraps destined for the control group.’

After a long moment, she managed a textbook-perfect smile, one she had meticulously crafted by cross-referencing human smiles within a vast database.

“Of course. Look at me, your big sister. I underwent the modification surgery, and I’m perfectly fine, aren’t I?” She flexed her arm, revealing the sparse, delicate muscles beneath her skin. “Go on, don’t worry. I’ll be waiting for your good news.”

“Okay! Goodbye, pretty big sister!”

The following day, as she happened to pass the cryogenic chamber, she once again encountered the boy, along with the other children from his group. Their expressions were eternally frozen in the precise moment before their surgeries.

This, however, represented merely a glimpse into Subject X’s decade-long ordeal of imprisonment.

Almost every month, she witnessed similar harrowing scenes. Gradually, as these distressing incidents grew more frequent, her patience waned, and she ceased all communication with humanity.

Consequently, in response to the Guiding Light project team’s inhumane atrocities, she began to play the part of a jester. She would wear a perpetual smile, clap and cheer, even proactively becoming an accomplice to those devils. Alternatively, she would relentlessly use high-energy rays or extreme thermal conditions to dismantle her own body within rigorous simulation fields, awaiting its subsequent reconstruction.

Everyone believed Subject X had completely lost her sanity. This, naturally, made it easier for them to manipulate her, thereby advancing their God Creation Project.

After all, their true desire was never for a sentient deity, but simply for a powerful and convenient weapon.

To this very day, Subject X remained deeply troubled by this realization.

‘What, truly, was the purpose of your creation?’

‘You sought to create an omni-compatible Subject X, an artificial deity. Why, then, would you allow this god to perceive pain? Why imbue her with human joys and sorrows? And why, ultimately, would you strip her of her emotions, rendering her incapable of resistance?’

‘To create a Subject X devoid of human emotions—that wouldn’t be difficult for you, would it? Much like that ruthless super AI, Skynet.’

‘Yet, you created me: a girl named X, possessing a human appearance and human emotions.’

‘This girl requires no food, no breath, no sleep. Her body can recover even after ninety percent destruction, and she can walk unharmed through tens of thousands of degrees of ion flames. Surely, no ordinary human could accomplish such feats?’

‘I am the god you forged, yet also your idealized human embodiment. Still, you treat me as a monster, imprisoning me in the deepest abyss, forcing me to witness humanity’s cruelty toward its own kind, all while keeping me at arm’s length. What, then, do you truly seek?’

‘Back and forth, a ceaseless flurry of destruction and rebirth, demolition and reconstruction. Some wished to elevate me, others to annihilate me. After enduring countless cruel trials, after becoming a demon lord feared by all, what was the ultimate purpose of it all…?’

‘I don’t understand!’