Several days had passed since the major incident that struck Kaivan.
Inside a hidden bunker beyond the Caucasus Mountains, the Omega-9 facility pulsed with mechanical life. Steel walls reflected blue-green light, cables throbbed like artificial veins, and the air carried the sterile scent of metal.
On the fourth underground level, Kaivan lay quietly on a medical bed. His body looked fragile. His left arm ended in a faintly glowing neural-metal ring, pulsing softly. The exposed neurons flickered, as if searching for the pulse they had lost.
A gentle voice broke the silence.
"Kaivan," Lyra said from the audio module above him—her tone patient yet mechanical. "Today is your bionic eye installation. Are you ready?"
Kaivan remained silent. His gaze rested on the Tome of Omnicent on his lap. The ancient book seemed alive, its letters flowing like water, reading his thoughts.
With his remaining hand, he softly stroked its pages.
"I don't know…" he whispered.
His eyes drifted down to the missing side of his body—the torn flesh sealed with metal, fine cables extending from within. His right leg had also been replaced with an advanced mechanical structure, not yet fully activated. Beneath his skin, neural-link sensors trembled faintly, waiting to awaken.
Suddenly, the Tome's pages quivered.
A sentence appeared on its surface:
"Even if it's not exactly like your old hand, it will work. My calculations have never been wrong."
The words were cold and emotionless, yet within their certainty lay a faint spark of hope.
The automatic door slid open with a soft hiss of pressure release.
A doctor entered, dressed in a sterile white uniform with a transparent face shield. His gloves shimmered blue with antimicrobial energy.
"Kaivan," he said gently, yet with quiet authority. In his hands, a digital clipboard displayed real-time graphs of Kaivan's brain activity. "We're ready for the implantation procedure. This will be a major step in your recovery."
Kaivan slowly turned his head. There was no smile—only a deep, hollow gaze. He gave a small nod.
Three floors below, the main operating chamber pulsed under steady pressure. Titanium walls hummed softly, while the central generator beat like the mechanical heart of the world.
On holographic screens, Kaivan's brain was displayed in full 3D visualization, complete with artificial optic nerve connection points. The sounds of machines and simulated heartbeats blended into a symphony of metal and life.
Fabrizio stood in the glass-walled observation room beside Levan. In his hands, the copper-red engraved Tome of Omnicraft glowed faintly.
"Are you sure this will work?" Levan asked calmly, his voice sharp beneath its composure. "Our sponsors are placing great hopes on you—Tome users."
Fabrizio let out a long breath. "I don't know. But I have to believe. Kaivan has to see the world again—through a new way."
Levan looked at him for a long moment. "If this succeeds, it will become a turning point in history. But if it fails…"
"If it fails," Fabrizio interrupted softly, "I will never forgive myself."
Inside the operating room, the doctor prepared a syringe filled with pale yellow anesthetic. Medical assistants adjusted the automated instruments—nano-scalpels, neural lenses, and low-frequency bone-penetration devices.
"Kaivan," the doctor said calmly, "we will administer a high dose of anesthesia. This procedure requires partial cranial disassembly and direct optical implantation into the visual cortex. If it succeeds, you will be able to see heat waves, energy flows, even electromagnetic vibrations. But the risks… are significant."
Kaivan stared at the glowing ceiling, shaped like an artificial cluster of stars. When the needle pierced the skin of his neck, a cold sensation spread rapidly through his body. His breathing slowed, and the world around him began to blur.
In the vast, sterile main chamber—where the boundary between miracle and tragedy was almost invisible—lay a young man named Kaivan. His body rested on a black-chromium medical table, covered with a stark white sterile sheet.
After a month of unconsciousness, just as the outside world was welcoming a summer meant to be warm and vibrant, his eyelids slowly opened.
His first sight was unclear. The world looked like an unfinished dream—blurred colors, vague shapes. Gradually, awareness returned, and reality revealed itself: a metallic ceiling engraved with ancient circuits, the soft glow of LED lights, holographic data patterns dancing in the air.
Then, sharp pain pierced his head, like thousands of needles swirling inside his brain.
"Ugh…" Kaivan groaned.
He raised his hand to hold his head—then froze.
His hand was there.
Both of them.
"Wh… what is this?" His voice was barely audible, trembling with fear and disbelief.
He stared at his left hand. Synthetic skin pulsed faintly, blue lines of light flowing beneath it. When he clenched his fist, his fingers responded perfectly. A delicate sensation spread through him, as if the hand had always been his. Artificial nerves were flawlessly connected to his brain.
He shivered and slowly lowered his hand. Then he closed his left eye.