Children of The Spheres

Chapter 4: Augmented

Back in Isenhold, our apartment feels like the only thing that hasn't changed. It's small, cramped, but familiar. The ThermaHeater hums quietly in the corner. Somehow, it's still going after a decade. Not much around here lasts that long.

Shiro's sprawled out on his bed, messing with his new optics, his eyes darting as he focuses on distant points. He keeps testing the zoom, shifting his gaze to something far away and then back to me, a slight smirk on his lips every time he locks onto a distant target. Always showing off, like it's a game.

I sit on the edge of my own bed, turning a rectangular box over in my hands. It's smaller than I remember, but heavier. Maybe I'm just feeling the weight of it all now. Once I slot this chip, I'm in it for good. No more pretending I can go back.

"You really gonna slot it in now?" Shiro asks, glancing over.

I nod, flicking the latch open with a click. Inside, nestled in the padded interior, is a combat chip from Combat Labs—the one we lifted off some upper-level kids a few months back. It reminds me of the Veil chip from years ago, but this one is less valuable. Still, it's not bad quality—a military-grade aug with a sensory boost module, reflex enhancer, and sensory filter. It lets you think faster, move quicker, and stay sharp in a fight. With my new neural interface, I can finally slot it. Finally put it to use.

It'll place me one step closer to what I want.

"Why wait?" I say, holding the chip up to the light. In tiny letters, there's engraved Nemesis XV-11, the model name.

Shiro's grin fades into something more serious. "No turning back after this, Ander. You sure?"

I glance over at him, my eyes lingering on the jacket he's wearing—Jace's. The red-and-white fabric with its worn edges, the angular design. It's funny, seeing it on Shiro. It fits him like it was always his. But it wasn't. It was Jace's. And every time I see it, I'm reminded of how he's not here anymore. How he's never coming back.

"I'm sure."

Then I reach around and insert it into my neuroslot. At first, nothing happens. A heartbeat. Then, everything shifts. It's like my brain is being stretched, pulled in every direction at once. My vision blurs and warps, the edges of the room twisting in ways that don't make sense. The hum of the heater becomes a deafening roar, vibrating through my skull. The light in the room flares, stabbing into my eyes. My heart races, each beat slamming into my chest like a hammer. I can't breathe. The air feels thick, suffocating, like I'm drowning in it.

My hands shake. I grip the edge of the bed, trying to ground myself, but it's like my body's on fire. Every nerve, every muscle fires off at once, a thousand sensations crashing into me. My eyes dart around the room, taking in too many details: the grain of the walls, the flicker of the faulty light down the hall, the faint, almost imperceptible sound of Shiro breathing.

It's too much. Like drowning, but there's no water.

Then, just as quickly as it hit, everything starts to settle. The room snaps back into focus. The roar fades to a dull hum, and my heartbeat steadies. Every sensation feels... sharper. Clearer. My vision adjusts, syncing with the chip, and the disorientation fades. But I'm not the same. There's a buzz in the back of my mind, like I'm a few steps ahead of everything. I can feel the sensory boost—hyper-awareness of everything around me. The creak of the floorboards. The subtle movements of the air. The faintest sound of Shiro shifting in his bed.

"Still with me?" Shiro's voice cuts through, though it feels distant before it snaps back into focus, like my brain had to catch up to his words.

I nod, blinking. "Yeah... just... it's different."