Cyber Chronicles 1: Crimson's Effect

Chapter 29: Lincoln(Present)

The acrid scent of smoke invaded Lincoln's senses, jerking him awake. A disorienting dizziness accompanied the sudden shift from slumber to wakefulness. His vision wavered between clarity and blur as he coughed, struggling to make sense of his surroundings.

Amidst the haze, Lincoln found himself standing in the middle of a burning forest. Flames licked at the trees, casting an eerie glow on the surreal scene. He felt a sense of bewilderment, unable to recall how he ended up in this fiery landscape.

With a cautious groan, Lincoln rose from where he lay and scanned his surroundings. The crackling of flames echoed through the air, and the heat pressed against his skin. The urgency of the situation weighed on him, yet a peculiar calmness settled within. It was as if an unseen force guided him, urging him to be present in this fiery realm.

Driven by an inexplicable compulsion, Lincoln extended a hand toward the flames. His fingers grazed the dancing tongues of fire, and he recoiled with a screech. The searing pain was a stark reminder of the tangible reality of the burning forest.

"Tyrants..." A voice resonated through the atmosphere, echoing with a haunting quality. The word lingered in the air, carrying a weight that transcended the flickering flames around Lincoln. It was a voice that seemed to emerge from the very essence of the burning forest.

With a sudden gasp, Lincoln jolted awake, the lingering echoes still reverberating in his mind. The disconcerting sensations of the burning forest and the cryptic voice lingered, leaving Lincoln to grapple with the unsettling residue of his dream.

Lincoln found himself contemplating the rarity of recalling his dreams. Typically, any dream or memory would swiftly fade from his consciousness, like a fleeting mirage dissipating from his grasp. These dreams often involved glimpses of the past, but their details, along with the original memories, would eventually be erased, leaving only a vague sense of their existence.

He looked around, taking in the familiar surroundings of a medical room within the military facility. The thought crossed his mind that Dexter might have granted permission for the Alvans' presence, given his awareness of the situation. Turning his attention to the right, he noticed a neighboring bed with a figure he vaguely recognized; however, his memories remained shrouded in a blur.

The door to the room glided open, revealing Aytrex entering. "You're finally awake," the orange-haired Alvan observed. "There's so much to discuss."

As Lincoln sat up in bed, a sleek bench smoothly extended from the bed frame and Aytrex gracefully took a seat. "It seems Crescent is still unconscious," He remarked, his tone carrying concern. The mention of Crescent triggered vivid memories of the intense duel that happened before Lincoln lost consciousness. Scenes from the battle played like a turbulent storm in his mind. The lingering sensations of pain and triumph intermingled as Lincoln recalled the defining moments of the duel against Crescent.

With a hand covering his face, Lincoln sat in contemplation, attempting to process the whirlwind of events that had unfolded. The intense duel had pushed him to the very brink, and the weight of the victory still felt surreal. He couldn't quite believe that he had emerged triumphant from such a challenging encounter.

"Lincoln," Aytrex's gentle voice pulled him back to reality. "The Council is eager to meet with you more than ever."

"I figured as much," Lincoln replied, his gaze shifting around the room. The remnants of the duel lingered in his thoughts, each moment replaying like scenes from a turbulent storm.

"But there's a lot I need to close first," Lincoln added, his voice carrying the weight of unresolved matters.

Lincoln pondered Aytrex's words, grappling with the memories of the duel that still echoed in his mind. The sleek bench, now Aytrex's seat, seamlessly integrated with the room's design, creating an atmosphere of technological precision.

"Will a week be enough?" Aytrex's inquiry resonated with genuine concern, emphasizing the urgency of the situation.

"It will be," Lincoln reassured, his focus gradually shifting from the lingering thoughts of the duel to the present conversation.

Seated on the sleek bench, Aytrex continued, "How are you feeling?" His eyes conveyed a sincerity that went beyond the formalities of the question.

"Much better, just processing," Lincoln replied, his gaze alternating between Aytrex and the sophisticated medical equipment that adorned the room.

Aytrex offered a compliment, "You did amazing," acknowledging the significance of Lincoln's victory in the intense duel.

"I almost lost control," Lincoln admitted, a moment of vulnerability seeping into his tone. His gaze lowered to the floor, the weight of the recent battle still etched in his mind.

"Of yourself?" Aytrex sought clarification, his expression a mix of understanding and subtle probing. The room's ambiance, a fusion of advanced technology and muted lighting, provided a backdrop to their conversation.

"I call it 'Overdrive.' When I'm in that state, my strength reaches intense levels, turning my hair blue and my eyes red. But I can't always control it, and my emotions take over," Lincoln explained, his expression somber.

Aytrex nodded in understanding. "We call it Wrath. It's a rare phenomenon linked to the charge nodes in your body. The prevailing theory is that it removes the charge restrictors, allowing your power to overflow for a short duration. The immense surge of power affects the mental state of the person. While it's widely accepted due to the rarity of cases, the higher-ups suspect there's more to it," he clarified.

"So, it's too dangerous for me to go into that mode," Lincoln concluded, a realization settling in his tone, his mind gradually adapting to the revelations.

Aytrex sighed, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "Very. Honestly, we were prepared for you to go into Wrath. And if you did, you would've been deemed unworthy," he revealed, his eyes meeting Lincoln's, a shared understanding of the potential consequences shaping the conversation.

Lincoln sighed, his gaze shifting to Crescent's bed. His life had reached a crucial juncture, and the war that engulfed Alvanian awaited his active involvement. There was no turning back; he had fought fiercely for this moment. Now, he stood at the precipice of a destiny shaped by his newfound abilities.

He sought a purpose, a reason behind being chosen as the next energy manipulator. The Moderators' decision hung over him like a weight, and he felt compelled to unravel the mysteries of his existence. The war-torn world around him mirrored the turmoil within, but Lincoln was determined to find his place in this complex tapestry.

Surrounded by those who shared his abilities, Lincoln yearned for knowledge and guidance. He knew he had to move forward, leaving behind the fragments of his fading past. Memories slipped away like embers, and all that remained was the path ahead.

With resolute determination, Lincoln embraced the journey ahead. The burning embers of his past illuminated his resolve, propelling him toward the answers he sought. It was time to prove himself, to discover the full extent of his capabilities, and to find the purpose that awaited him in the unfolding chapters of his extraordinary life.