[Eight months ago…]
"Tch." Mikel hissed as he touched the corner of his cracked mouth, walking along the side of the busy road. "Shit."
As he cursed, his eyes fell on a mother and her son walking in the opposite direction.
"Mommy, look at the big brother—"
"Shh." The child's mother quickly clasped his finger, peeking at Mikel before quickly looking away. She protectively guided her son to her other side, whispering, "Don't point at people. It's rude."
The boy blinked innocently and asked, "But he has a boo-boo on his face."
"Yes, I know," she whispered even more quietly. "If you don't want a boo-boo on your face, you have to stay out of trouble, alright? Don't be like him."
"Okay!"
The mother smiled subtly, casting Mikel another quick look. Hostility was clear in her eyes as she walked farther away from him until they passed each other.
Mikel looked away indifferently. People always stared at his bruises. After all, he was what others called a troubled teen, and they weren't all that wrong.
Just like today, he'd had a fistfight with some delinquents from another high school.
The reason?
Well, those delinquents had been harassing his peers. That was all fine until they started harassing the student whom Mikel had been buying some cheap lunch from. Eventually, they beat up the student. Meaning, Mikel wouldn't have a proper yet cheap lunch.
He didn't mind being called a thug.
He did mind being hungry.
So, there was that.
"Still, my face hurts like hell," he hissed, feeling his face throb as he headed toward the pedestrian crossing.
But then—
A loud, piercing scream echoed across the usually busy Sector Scramble Crossing. Everyone, including Mikel, instinctively turned toward the source of the noise.
"Kyah!"
There, just where Mikel had come from, was the same mother who had just used him as an example of what not to be for her kid. She was screaming, and when Mikel shifted his eyes to where she was looking, he saw the same boy just now standing in the middle of the road.
"Shit." Mikel's eyes constricted, gaze lifting to the incoming truck speeding straight toward the kid.
Don't do it, don't do it. Just let them be, he told himself.
But as he chanted those words in his mind, his feet were already moving fast.
"Hey!" Mikel shouted, sprinting toward the kid despite the blaring honk.
The boy, whose eyes were unnaturally blank, blinked. When he did, the life in his eyes returned. He turned his head in confusion, as if he hadn't realized he'd walked into the road at all, like he didn't even know he was alive.
HONK!
All the boy saw were the blinding headlights, the deafening horn, and the shouting around him. He froze, his lips quivering as he whispered,
"Ma… ma…"
HONK!
Just as the boy watched the truck close in, a forceful grip yanked him out of the way. His shoulder nearly cracked from the sudden pull, but the shock numbed the pain.
After a moment, the boy looked up at the person holding him.
He blinked, recognizing the big brother with the fresh bruises. "Big Bro—"
Screech!
CRASH!
The rest of the boy's words faded behind the sound of the crash.
Mikel held the boy tightly, flinching as the truck screeched and collided with something in the distance. He thought it was over when the crash noises subsided, until he looked up and saw a jagged piece of a shattered side mirror gleaming in the air.
It was spinning in his direction like a cursed coin flipped by death itself.
"I…" he froze. "... can't move."
Then the metal fragment struck him straight in the eye.
---
[Two months later…]
It had been two months since that road accident.
And two months since Mikel lost his sight.
His left eye was completely blind. His right eye—still recovering. Blurry. The chances of full vision were low, and the risk of complete blindness for both eyes was steadily rising.
Two months of almost nothing but darkness.
Two months of trying to accept that one single, stupid decision had led him to this.
But now, a sliver of hope just peeked through, like clouds parting to let heaven show a glimmer of grace.
"I can… regain my vision?"
His left eye was still wrapped in bandages. His right eye, though blurred, carried a look of surprise.
"We found you a match, Mikel." The doctor, seated on a chair beside the hospital bed, scooted closer. "But like I mentioned just now, a full eye transplant is still experimental. There's only one recorded success case, and even then, his vision didn't return. It's an extremely complex surgery, and the chances of success—"
"I'll get it."
The doctor paused at the interruption. "Mikel, I know time is important, but you need to think this through very carefully."
"I understand what you're saying, Doc. But the chances of me going completely blind are high, so I might as well take this chance, no matter how slim it is." Mikel's resolve was unshakable. "I'll get the surgery. My left eye's already gone, anyway. And I'm losing the other one. What's there to lose?"
"..." The doctor sighed, studying the firm expression on the teen's slightly gaunt face. "Before I agree, I have to disclose that this eye has a different color."
Mikel nodded. "I'll still get it."
"Are you sure about this, Mikel?"
"The hospital covers the surgery, the rest of my care, and aftercare," Mikel explained. "On top of that, the surgeon performing it is one of the best… as you mentioned. So yes, I'm sure — even if it's glow in the dark."
The doctor studied him for a moment longer before finally nodding in understanding.
"Then I'll prepare you for surgery as soon as possible."
He nodded back, fully determined to reclaim what he had lost. To regain even a hint of the normalcy he once had.
What he didn't know was that the surgery wouldn't just return his sight—it would invite something far worse.
That what he just made was a decision that sealed away his chances of ever living a normal life again.
And he wouldn't know it… until three weeks later, when the bandages came off.
When the faces of the doctors and nurses weren't the only ones he saw.
Because also hovering in front of him… was a screen.
[SHAMAN PROTOCOL… INTEGRATING WITH NEW HOST.]
Mikel furrowed his brows, too stunned to react to the people crowded around his hospital bed.
[SHAMAN PROTOCOL INTEGRATING WITH NEW HOST…]
[1/1000]
[SYNCING HOST AND SYSTEM… please wait.]
"What the…" Mikel blinked in disbelief, only to see the progress bar advance.
[Synchronization progress: 500/1000]
"Shit—?"
"Mikel?" the surgeon's voice snapped him out of it.
Mikel looked up, the surgeon looking back at him curiously. He glanced at the other nurses, management staff, all staring back at him expectantly.
"Can you… see us?" the surgeon asked.
Mikel opened his mouth, but his attention drifted again to the edge of his vision.
[Synchronization progress: 998/1000]
He gulped, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. He wanted to ask what this was, but he couldn't peel his gaze away from the screen.
It wasn't just syncing. It felt like it was watching him, taunting him, until —
[Synchronization progress: 1000/1000]
Then, the screen blinked once more, revealing a new message:
[Greetings, Master.
Welcome to Shaman Protocol.
My name is Doom. I will be at your service till your end.]