NOVPUB"You mea-"
"That's right," Arthur nodded, reading his expression. "I know all about it. And when it happens, when the walls between worlds fall? You will be in my hands."
"But for now, I'll leave you with a gift. A little taste of what's coming.
Arthur stepped back.
The prison cell rippled and darkened as a dark portal appeared.
The darkness within pulsed with malevolent life.
No... what is he doing?
The portal widened, edges writhing like living shadow.
First came tendrils—pale green, glistening with unnatural dew. They probed the cell floor, testing, searching. Then the body emerged—a plant-like creature with sinuous vines for limbs.
At its centre gleamed a crystal bud, pulsing with hypnotic light.
Adam pressed himself against the wall. He'd seen monsters in this world but something about this entity made his soul recoil.
He's summoned something... but what?
"Adam, meet Bloom," Arthur said, his voice soft with artificial warmth. "Bloom, meet Adam."
The crystal at the creature's centre swivelled toward Adam. It had no eyes, no face, yet he felt it seeing him, not just his physical form but something deeper.
"A pleasure, keke." Bloom's voice resonated.
Adam didn't dare underestimate the plant, not when its master was Arthur. He'd learned enough about Fateless to know that nothing about him was as simple as it appeared.
Arthur circled behind Adam, leaning close to his ear. "Bloom has a special talent. Would you like to know what it is?"
Adam couldn't speak. Couldn't move. The plant's crystal pulsed in rhythm with his racing heartbeat.
"Control," Arthur whispered. "Absolute control."
The word echoed in the small cell. Control. Control. Control.
Arthur stepped back, watching Adam's expression contort. "S+ rank talent. Quite rare. The Legendary skill Pollen allows it to seize enemies' minds. Crystal Mind lets it separate its consciousness among multiple beings without losing itself. And Shared-Link..." He smiled. "That's the special one. It creates a network of puppets under a single will."
Bloom's tendrils undulated, floating in the air. Tiny motes of golden light began to drift from its crystal, floating like dandelion seeds on a summer breeze.
"But there's more," Arthur continued, circling Adam like a scientist explaining an experiment. "Bloom can choose the degree of control. It can puppet your body while leaving your mind intact to watch helplessly—or it can control everything, turning you into a senseless doll."
The golden motes multiplied, filling the air between them.
"Which would you prefer, Adam?" Arthur asked with mock concern.
Adam's paralysis broke. "Arthur, don't—we can talk about this—I was following orders—"
"Bloom," Arthur cut him off, his voice hardening. "I want you to create a very happy dream land for this kind gentleman here."
The plant's crystal flashed brighter. A tendril extended toward Adam's face.
"Which dreamland would you like, Mr. Adam, kek." Bloom's voice was sarcastic, it's voice sending chill down Adam's spine.
Adam's mouth opened, but Arthur raised a hand.
"Actually, never mind." Arthur's eyes glittered with cold satisfaction. "Bloom, control his mind. Find his deepest fears, his deepest moments of shame, and turn those into his dream land. Have it on loop. And I want him to be conscious and understanding of everything happening to him."
Bloom's crystal pulsed with eager hunger. "Yes, Master."
The golden motes drifted toward Adam's face. He tried to hold his breath, tried to scramble backwards, but he was unable to.
Arthur had full control over his body.
"No—please—ARTHUR!" The name became a desperate howl.
The motes swarmed him now, a golden cloud rushing into his nostrils, his mouth, his ears. Adam clutched his head, screaming as something foreign invaded his consciousness.
"Make it stop make it stop make it STOP"
But it didn't stop.
Adam's screams cut off abruptly. His body went rigid, then relaxed into an unnatural stillness. His eyes remained open, but the person behind them was gone—buried beneath layers of living nightmare.
Arthur observed the transformation with clinical detachment. Adam's eyes had turned gold, pupils dilated to tiny pinpricks.
"Is he aware?" Arthur asked.
Bloom's crystal pulsed. "Fully. His consciousness is experiencing the first memory loop now."
"And what did you find?"
"A childhood drowning incident. Near-death. Maximum terror response." Bloom's voice held a sadistic tone.
"Secondly: When he found his wife cheating on him with his brother."
Arthur nodded, satisfied. "Perfect. How long will it last?"
"Until you command otherwise, Master."
"Good." Arthur's smile was cold. "Keep it that way. Whenever he is about to break, I want you to lower the dosage. Don't break him, he must continue feeling pain."
"As you command, Master."
Bloom's tendrils caressed Adam's frozen face. "It shall be done."
Arthur turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Bloom? Make sure the final loop is special. I want his last experience before release to be a preview of our reunion after the merge."
The plant's crystal flashed eagerly. "I will create something... memorable."
As Arthur left the cell, he glanced back one last time. Adam stood perfectly still, vacant golden eyes staring at nothing, his mind trapped in endless horror.
The door closed with a soft click. Through the bars, Arthur watched as Bloom settled in beside its victim, tendrils connecting to Adam's temples, crystal pulsing in rhythm with the human's heartbeat.
No marks. No physical torture.
And Adam? He couldn't do anything to escape the hell that he had entered.
Just nightmares. Just fear. Just exactly what Adam had taught him to use.
Soon, Donald. Your turn comes soon.
...
The golden pollen seeped into Adam's mind, dissolving the barriers between present and past, reality and nightmare. His body stood motionless in the cell, but his consciousness plummeted downward.
Falling.
Drowning.
Can't breathe.
His first loop began without warning. One moment he stood in the prison cell, the next—
Cold water closed over his head. Not the memory as it had happened, but worse. Enhanced. Perfected.
Nine-year-old Adam flailed in the lake's murky depths. His lungs burned. Pressure built in his chest. Above, sunlight fractured through green water, impossibly distant.
Help me! Someone help!
The adult Adam, trapped within his child-self, recognized this nightmare. Summer camp. The dare. The older boys laughing as he waded too deep, not knowing about the sudden drop-off.
But this time was different. This time, he could think.
It's not real. This already happened. I survived this.
Bloom's voice whispered through the water. "Oh, but it feels real, doesn't it? The pressure. The panic. The certainty that this is where you die."
Little Adam's lungs convulsed. His body demanded air. His child's instincts overrode adult knowledge.
He inhaled water.
Agony ripped through him—knife-sharp, all-consuming. His throat closed. His chest spasmed. The world began to darken at the edges.
I'm dying. Again.
Hands grabbed him, pulled upward. The camp counselor—his rescuer in the real memory. Relief flooded through him as his face broke the surface.
But the hands weren't pulling him to shore. They were pushing him down.
The counselor's face transformed into Arthur's, eyes cold with satisfaction as he held Adam underwater.
"That's right," Arthur said, voice perfectly clear despite the water. "Fight it. Feel your lungs fill. Experience every second."
Adam thrashed, child's body no match for the inexorable pressure. Water filled his lungs entirely. His vision tunneled to a single point of light.
Then darkness.
And then—
He was nine again. Back at the edge of the lake. Whole. Unharmed.
The older boys taunted him. "Scared, crybaby? It's just water."
No. Not again. Please.
He tried to turn away. Tried to run. But his body moved forward against his will, wading into the shallows.
"Why are you so tense? This is just an...appetiser, kek." Bloom's voice curled around his consciousness.
