Inside the deepest, darkest space of nothingness, a teenage boy was lying asleep on the ground.
Just then, he woke up. The cold was the first thing he felt. It seeped through his clothes, biting into his skin. He groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering open. He was lying on a hard, unforgiving surface. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his head throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache. As his vision cleared, the details of his surroundings began to form.
He was inside a cell. Thick, iron bars surrounded him on all four sides, illuminated by the dim, flickering light of a single, unseen lamp. Outside the bars, there was absolutely nothing. Just an endless, suffocating void of pitch-black darkness. It was eerie and entirely silent. The cell seemed to be the only solid object in existence.
Panic instantly spiked in his chest. The last thing he remembered... he was in the bathroom. He had looked in the mirror and seen something strange. Then, a hand—his hand—had shot out, gripped him by the throat, and strangled the life out of him.
He stumbled to his feet, rushing to the iron bars and gripping them tightly. "Hello?!" he yelled, his voice echoing out into the absolute nothingness. "Is anyone there?!"
He closed his eyes and tried to summon his interface. System! Miley!
Nothing happened. No blue screen, no familiar British voice. He felt incredibly weak, as if his very soul had been drained of its stamina. He rattled the bars, using every ounce of his remaining strength. "Let me out! Let me out of here!"
"You should keep it down." A voice suddenly drifted from the darkness, calm and chillingly familiar. "You don't want to wake up the monsters lurking in the dark, do you?"
The boy froze. Footsteps echoed from the void, slow and deliberate. A moment later, a figure stepped out of the oppressive darkness and into the small radius of light surrounding the cell.
It was a boy. He wore the exact same clothes. He had the exact same build. And most terrifying of all, he had the exact same face.
Henry frowned, his grip on the iron bars tightening until his knuckles turned white. He already knew who it was.
"You," Henry breathed.
"Yes. Me," Scar chuckled, a dark, vibrating sound. He walked up to the cell, stopping just inches from the iron bars. The two halves of the same whole stared at each other. Henry's expression was fierce and terrified; Scar's face was perfectly calm, anchored by a confident, predatory smirk.
"Where are we?" Henry demanded.
"Isn't it obvious?" Scar gestured vaguely to the endless black void around them. "This is our brain. Specifically, the part that used to house me. The part where I was born."
Henry grit his teeth. "Let me out of here."
"And why would I do that?" Scar tilted his head, his smirk fading into a cold glare. "You almost got us killed multiple times in the span of three days. And you already got us killed once in our past life. You should get comfy in there, Henry. Because there is no way you are ever taking control again. Not in this lifetime."
"You can't keep me in here for long!" Henry shouted, rattling the bars. "Felicity is going to find out sooner or later that you're an imposter! She'll notice I'm gone!"
Scar let out a short, genuine laugh. "You mean the same Felicity I just struck a deal with? The same Felicity who agrees that I'm better off in control?"
Henry shook his head violently. "That's impossible! There is no way she would just let you be in control or even be alive! Not after you tried to kill Emily. She was going to erase you!"
"Yet, here I am," Scar shrugged nonchalantly. He leaned closer to the bars, his purple eyes piercing through the dim light. "Let me break it down for you. That 'mother' you hold in such high regard? She orchestrated this whole thing. She used the threat of erasing me to lure me out. She wanted me to take control. She needs me. Not you."
"No," Henry denied, his voice trembling. "You're lying."
"Believe whatever you want," Scar said, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Either way, you are going to be in here. Forever. While I'll be out there, making sure we don't get killed this time around."
Scar turned his back and began to walk away, stepping toward the edge of the light.
"You can't keep me here forever!" Henry screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'll find a way out! I'll find a way to take back control! I'll find a way to kill you myself!"
Scar paused. He stood perfectly still at the boundary of the darkness. Then, he burst into laughter. It wasn't a chuckle. It was a loud, hollow, unhinged laugh that echoed terrifyingly through the void.
He turned around, the amusement vanishing from his face instantly. His expression was absolute ice.
"Kill me?" Scar spat, stalking back to the bars. "Kill me?! You couldn't even if you tried!"
He grabbed the iron bars, leaning his face so close to Henry's that their noses almost touched.
"I am the one in control here. You might be the original. The first. The real deal. But I am the one who knows how not to die! I am the one who kept us alive for five years on the streets of our past life! I am the one who made sure we survived in that cruel, pathetic world!" Scar's voice rose, vibrating with years of buried fury. "You would have died way before that truck even hit us if it wasn't for me! And you want to kill me?!"
Henry stumbled back a step, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the hatred rolling off his alter ego.
"You are nothing without me," Scar snarled. "You should be on your knees thanking me! I took all of your pain. I took all your misery. I took the beatings, the starvation, and the heartbreak! And what did I get in return? Isolation."
Scar gestured wildly to the darkness around them. "I was abandoned! Left down here in the absolute darkest, coldest part of our mind to deal with the sadness and the grief and the sorrow, all so you could remain unbroken! All my life, ever since the day I was created to protect you, I have never felt a single moment of happiness! All so you would never have to feel a moment of sadness!" He glared at Henry with absolute disgust. "And yet, you say you want to kill me? What an ingrate."
Henry shook his head, his eyes wide with confusion and horror. "What... what are you even talking about?"
Scar chuckled, a dark, bitter sound. He stepped back from the bars, his posture straightening.
"You'll understand soon enough," Scar said softly. "That's why I brought you here. For all those years, I kept all those bad memories locked away down here to protect you. To keep your fragile little mind safe. But not anymore."
The void around the cell seemed to shift, the darkness swirling with faint, agonizing whispers.
"Now, you will see it all," Scar declared. "Every bad memory. Every tragic incident, every beating, every tear that I was forced to endure so you could forget... you will know them now. This place will reveal it all to you."
Scar turned and began walking into the darkness.
"Prepare yourself, Henry," Scar's voice echoed back, growing fainter. "It's going to be a long night."
"Wait!" Henry screamed, rushing the bars and reaching his arm through the gaps. "Hey! Come back! Don't leave me here! Let me out!"
But the figure had completely disappeared into the void, leaving Henry entirely alone in the suffocating dark as the whispers began to grow louder.
....
The Next Morning,
Scar's eyes snapped open. The glowing ceiling of his bedroom in the Glacier Palace greeted him. It was exactly 6:05 AM.
[Good morning, Scar,] Miley's crisp voice chimed in his head. [Or should I call you Roy?]
"How about neither," Scar muttered, throwing the covers off and stepping onto the floor.
He moved through his morning routine with robotic efficiency. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and threw on his black training clothes. He headed down to the training room, knocking out his daily physical quests—the slightly heavy lifting, the sit-ups, and the press-ups—in record time.
Ding!
[Objective 2 Complete: Lift a total of 100 kilograms]
[You have received: 5 EXP, +2 Strength, and +2.5 Stamina]
[Exp: 175/500]
[Strength: 22 >> 41]
[Stamina: 93 >> 95.5]
[Objective 3 Complete: Do ten pushups and twenty sit-ups]
[You have received: 10 EXP, +5 Durability, and +2.5 Stamina]
[Exp: 180/500]
[Durability: 41 >> 46]
[Stamina: 95.5 >> 98]
Satisfied with the notifications, Scar closed the system interface and left the training room, heading out to complete the final objective.
As he walked back through the grand corridors, he spotted Emily coming through the main doors. She was dressed in athletic wear, headphones resting around her neck, clearly returning from a morning jog.
Scar recalled the memories of the first Henry. Emily was a relentless hard worker. She was vastly more disciplined than anyone he knew, training day and night to master her abilities and hone her skills. It was the one trait Scar respected about her.
"Morning," Scar offered lightly, keeping up the polite brotherly act Felicity had demanded.
Emily stopped in her tracks. She pulled her headphones completely off, her blue eyes narrowing as she scrutinized his face. "Who is it?"
Scar sighed. He pointed two fingers at his purple eyes. "It's still me. Roy." He said.
"Just wanted to be sure," Emily said coldly. She crossed her arms. "What about the other one? Is he going to come out anytime soon?"
"Not likely," Scar replied smoothly. "He's what you might call a timid one."
Emily frowned. "And your memories? Do you have them now?"
Scar nodded. "Yes. It's all come back."
"Good," Emily said, her tone sharpening into a clear warning. "Then you know the way to my room perfectly well, which means you know exactly how to stay away from it, and away from me. Mom might want things to magically get back to normal, but I'm not on board. So this—" she motioned between the two of them "—is not going to work."
Scar shrugged, entirely unaffected. "That's fine by me." He scoffed.
Emily tilted her head, blinking in sheer surprise. "Huh?" She clearly hadn't expected him to agree so fast. He was completely willing.
Scar chuckled, a dark, cynical sound. "You didn't actually think I was going to plead with you to be my sister, did you?" he snickered.
Emily shook her head slowly, still in shock at how utterly blunt and indifferent this personality was compared to the desperate, affectionate boy she had known days ago.
"Good," Scar said, stepping past her. "Then we have an understanding. See you later, sis."
He didn't add another word, nor did he pay her any mind as he walked out the heavy front doors and descended the grand entrance stairs toward the gates.
He stopped on the empty, frosted street outside the estate, stretching his legs and shaking out his arms.
"Alright," Scar murmured, dropping into a low runner's stance. "Let's see how fast that boost I received yesterday really made me."
He tightened his core, focused his intent, and launched himself forward.
BOOM.
The air itself seemed to crack. A localized shockwave of displaced air kicked up behind him, shattering the morning frost on the pavement. The sheer force of his initial acceleration pushed him back into his own body. He hit a velocity of 350 km/h in less than a second.
But as he pushed harder, burning his Stamina, the resistance vanished. Running felt incredibly, terrifyingly easy.
The world around him smeared into a vibrant, unintelligible blur. The towering skyscrapers and trees of Arcadia City warped like melting wax. His arms and legs pumped with the rhythmic, mechanical perfection of a high-end engine. He pushed past the 400 km/h mark, then 500, until he hit his absolute ceiling.
He was moving at 650 km/h.
He felt like a god. The wind wasn't a barrier anymore; it was something he was actively tearing apart. He kept up the pace steadily until...
Ding!
[Objective 1 Complete: Run 1 Kilometer without stopping]
Scar dug his heels into the asphalt, skidding to a violent halt. A massive gust of displaced wind washed past him a second later, violently shaking the frost-covered trees lining the sidewalk.
[You have received: 5 EXP, and +10 km/h to Top Speed]
[Exp: 185/500]
[Top Speed: 660 km/hr]
[Daily Quest Complete]
He stood straight, stretching his back, a thrilled grin plastered on his face. "Miley. How long did that take?"
[Approximately 6.5 seconds from standard takeoff acceleration to the one-kilometer mark,] Miley responded, her tone calculating.
"Wow, six seconds," Scar breathed, looking back at the long, empty stretch of road behind him. "That's a lot faster than yesterday."
Right on cue, his stomach let out a cavernous, aggressive rumble. The massive expenditure of energy had instantly spiked his metabolism.
Scar sighed, clutching his abdomen. "I forgot to eat again," he tutted. "Miley, always remind me to eat before I leave the house. Or at least tell me to grab breakfast to go."
[Actually, I was going to tell you to eat before leaving today,] Miley replied smoothly. [But I didn't know what to call you. So, I decided to stay silent.]
Scar blinked, entirely perplexed. She was being petty. She was getting back at him for his comment in the bedroom. "Seriously? You're really upset about that?"
[I am an AI. I do not get upset. I was simply following your orders to call you 'neither'.] she stated matter-of-factly.
Scar rolled his eyes, letting out a defeated sigh. "Fine. You can call me whatever you want."
Miley let out a soft, digital chuckle. [Okay, Roy.]
Scar ignored the name and surveyed his surroundings. He had stopped perfectly in front of the massive public park. His eyes scanned the plaza and quickly landed on the brightly colored food truck.
The vendor from yesterday was there. He was just unrolling the awning and firing up the grill.
Scar adjusted his jacket and began walking toward the truck.
[Are you seriously thinking of going back there?] Miley asked, her digital tone laced with disbelief. [You ran off without paying him yesterday. The man is likely going to call the authorities.]
"It's not like I have a choice," Scar shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm starving. And frankly, he doesn't have a choice either."
[How so?] Miley asked.
Scar chuckled, a dark, arrogant sound. "You'll see."
He strolled casually into the park, heading straight for the service window of the truck. As he approached, the vendor was already tossing the first set of raw beef patties onto the sizzling grill. Hearing footsteps, the man looked up and wiped his hands on his apron.
When he saw Scar, his face lit up with a warm, welcoming smile. "Good morning, kid! What would you like to have today?"
Scar froze mid-stride. He actually blinked in shock, entirely caught off guard.
His tactical mind had prepared for multiple scenarios: a physical altercation, an angry scolding, or a demand for compensation. He had even prepared an award-winning performance about having a medical emergency yesterday and returning today with extra credits to pay his debt.
But the man hadn't yelled. He hadn't demanded anything. It was as if he didn't even recognize him. But that was impossible—he had explicitly said "today," meaning he knew exactly who Scar was.
Scar took a cautious step forward, his brow furrowing. "Do you... recognize me?"
"Yeah, of course," the vendor chuckled, flipping a patty. "You're the kid who came here yesterday morning."
Scar blinked again, genuinely stunned. "Then... aren't you mad that I didn't pay you for the food yesterday?"
The man let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "No, kid. I'm not." He said.
Scar's confusion deepened. "Why?"
"Because that was yesterday's problem," the man said simply, leaning on the counter. "Today is a new day. And besides, I was going to give you that food for free yesterday anyway. See I have a personal principle: my first customer of the day always gets a free meal. So, either way, everything worked out. You got your free meal, and I fulfilled my principle." Then he chuckled. "You did forget your milkshake, though."
Scar stood there, deeply, profoundly stunned. The thick, cynical armor he wore around his soul cracked just a fraction. He had spent his entire previous life fighting for scraps, surrounded by people who would kill for a piece of bread. He had never met someone so inherently kind, so pure-hearted, that they wouldn't even harbor anger over being robbed.
"I..." Scar stammered, the cold, calculating edge entirely gone from his voice. "I don't know what to say."
"It's fine, kid," the man smiled, tapping his spatula against the grill. "You must have had your reasons for taking off like that. I'm not upset. All that matters to me is that you enjoyed the meal. You did enjoy it, right?"
Scar swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded slowly. A genuine, unguarded smile broke through his harsh features. "Yeah. I did."
A strange, unfamiliar warmth blossomed in his chest. For the first time in his existence, he felt a strong, undeniable urge to do something nice for someone without an ulterior motive. He leaned against the counter.
"I'm sorry," Scar managed to say, and he actually meant it. "I wasn't thinking when I did it."
The man waved him off with a bright laugh. "It's really fine. Just a teenager being a teenager. Now, what would you like to have this morning? And since you're my first customer again... you're getting it for free."
Scar smiled. "Okay. Two burgers, please."
The man got to work, wrapping the hot food and handing it over a few minutes later. Scar took the meal, walked over to one of the plastic tables, and sat down. He ate quietly, watching the bright morning sun finally crest over the Arcadia City skyline. When he finished, he stood up, offered the man a sincere wave of thanks, and walked out of the park.
As he hit the pavement, Miley's voice returned.
[You didn't expect that, did you?] she chuckled, sounding pleased with the outcome of the encounter.
Scar shook his head, looking down at the pavement. "No. I didn't. Who knew the man was this kind?"
[So, did you learn anything today?] Miley probed gently. [Maybe a moral lesson about running off without paying for food from hardworking people?]
Scar paused. The vulnerability vanished instantly.
He scoffed, throwing his mental walls back up. "What is there to learn? Oh, is it because of how I acted back there? No, no, no. Do not be fooled. That was just a performance. I'm not really sorry for what I did. In fact, I'd do it again. But more logically this time."
Miley was confused and curious at the same time. [You're going to scam the man logically? How?]
"Simple," Scar smirked, adjusting his jacket. "Since the man gives free meals to his first customer, all I have to do is make sure I get here early every day and be the first customer. Then I get food without paying. If the man wants to be nice and give away free food, that's his choice. But I am going to take advantage of it."
Miley let out a long, digital sigh. If she had possessed a physical face, she would have undoubtedly face-palmed. [You are completely hopeless]
Scar simply shrugged, offering no further defense. He stopped just outside the perimeter of the park, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck.
"Time to begin the day's grind," he muttered.
He dropped back into his runner's stance, focused his energy, and dashed off toward the outskirts of the city.
...
Five minutes later, Scar arrived at the towering, fortified perimeter of the Hunting Grounds he had cleared yesterday.
He didn't walk into the lobby this time. He simply stopped in front of the massive blast gates and looked through the reinforced glass window of the reception building.
The guard inside—the same man whose face Scar had nearly caved in yesterday—looked up from his desk. The moment he made eye contact with the purple-eyed teenager, the color completely drained from his bruised face.
He didn't ask for verification. He didn't check the registry. He didn't say a single word. Scar had made the new rules of engagement abundantly clear yesterday.
The man quickly slammed his hand onto the master switch under his desk.
A second later, the heavy mechanical gears groaned, and the blast gate slid open just enough for a person to pass.
Scar revealed a smirk, clearly pleased. Then he stepped through the threshold, the heavy steel gates slamming shut and locking behind him.
The moment the lock engaged, the arrogant teenager vanished. Scar's expression hardened into pure, lethal focus. He drew his dagger, his posture dropping into a combat-ready crouch as he stared into the dense, untamed foliage.
He was hyper-alert, on guard, and ready to hunt.