Nothing happened.
And that was the problem.
They agreed on it before unpacking.
“No eyes,” Adrian said quietly while closing the balcony curtains.
Samantha nodded.
“If we light up first, they’ll know we’re here.”
Peter agreed.
“If something intelligent built this, it’s watching for anomalies. We don’t become one.”
So they didn’t transform.
Didn’t scan.
Didn’t provoke.
They blended.
Peter monitored hidden drones through a separate channel.
Not Vigilante.
A new account. Zero subscribers.
Adrian had publicly redirected his followers there and told them not to subscribe. That was intentional — no public metrics to attract algorithmic attention.
Samantha filtered the followers themselves.
Cross-referenced usernames.
Bot detection.
IP clustering.
Suspicious government-adjacent patterns.
No Hero Corp trace so far.
But they all knew—
If someone like Cisco Moretti wanted to watch, he would.
Blocking him was pointless.
Lucifer’s arrangement was clear.
Greed had a task.
Pride had a task.
As long as Adrian didn’t interfere with Cisco’s—
He shouldn’t interfere with his.
In theory.
For now, if anyone intercepted the stream, it would show:
A chubby dad fishing.
Two university students doomscrolling.
A family vacation.
Peter wore cargo shorts and a faded cap.
He fished like a retired uncle with too much free time.
Adrian and Samantha lounged near the shore, sunglasses on, phones in hand.
They scrolled through qualitative claims again.
“Burning structure.”
“Dry lake.”
“People in the road.”
But—
None of the commenters had actually stayed inside the resort.
Only:
- Drive-bys.
- Drone footage.
- Main road observations.
Samantha lowered her phone slightly.
“That’s interesting.”
“Sampling bias?” Adrian asked.
She nodded.
“It’s expensive. Wealth filter. Fewer firsthand accounts.”
“But,” Adrian said slowly, “still useful.”
They both understood.
If nobody inside reports anomalies—
Either nothing is happening inside.
Or nobody inside can.
They filed that away.
Out on the dock, Peter adjusted his reel.
He had considered buying one hundred tickets.
Deploying one hundred clones.
Flooding the place.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
But that was reckless.
If the anomaly could detect soul signatures—
Ten thousand bodies, one mind.
Too loud.
Too unnatural.
Efficiency mattered.
He had to live by that rule.
The rod bent sharply.
Peter stood up dramatically.
“Oh? Big one.”
He reeled it in slowly.
A large silver fish thrashed violently once it surfaced.
Peter held it up.
Then frowned.
“Wow,” he murmured softly.
“You seem to be in more pain than a fish getting hooked alone, don’t you little fella?”
Adrian looked over.
“It’s a fish, dude.”
He squinted.
“How are you even measuring that?”
Peter stared at the fish quietly for a few seconds.
Then he unhooked it gently and released it.
“It’s the same reason I knew this place had an anomaly,” he said.
Adrian’s expression shifted slightly.
Peter walked back toward them.
“My ability isn’t cloning,” Peter began.
“It’s Biological Understanding. Manipulation is just an application.”
He sat down.
“It wasn’t always this clear.”
Samantha looked genuinely curious now.
Peter continued.
“I thought I always had it.”
“But when I was a kid, my parents would take me to the hospital sometimes.”
“They couldn’t understand why I kept passing out.”
“Every time.”
“Only when we left would I wake up.”
His voice was calm.
“No neurological issues. No cardiac irregularities.”
“So they stopped taking me.”
He adjusted his glasses.
“I also had random pains growing up. My parents ran every test possible.”
“Nothing wrong.”
A pause.
“When I was six, my hamster died.”
Adrian blinked.
“Over-excited. Ran too hard on its wheel.”
Peter smiled faintly.
“Normal kid reaction. I cried.”
“But there was something else.”
“My chest felt like it was exploding.”
“Heart pounding. Crushing pain.”
“They checked my pulse.”
“Normal.”
He looked toward the lake.
“The pain lasted for hours.”
“Then it stopped.”
Silence.
“That’s when I realized.”
He tapped his own chest.
“I wasn’t feeling my pain.”
“I was feeling its.”
Adrian didn’t interrupt.
Peter continued evenly.
“That’s why I fainted in hospitals.”
“Too much pain.”
“Layered.”
“Stacked.”
“Bleeding into me.”
“As I grew older, I adapted.”
“Tolerance increased.”
“Signal clarity improved.”
He looked at his own hands.
“Pain was the first signal.”
“Later came tissue density.”
“Cellular instability.”
“Metabolic stress.”
He smiled slightly.
“That’s how I figured out cloning.”
“I experimented on myself.”
“On clones.”
“Open surgeries. No anesthesia.”
“Not because I don’t feel pain.”
He glanced at Adrian.
“But because I understand it.”
Samantha swallowed quietly.
Peter continued.
“I always believed I was meant to be a doctor.”
“Not just a normal one.”
“The best.”
“One who fully understands what a patient feels.”
He looked back at the lake.
And his tone changed.
Subtle.
Heavy.
“When I approached this resort…”
“I felt it.”
Adrian’s posture straightened.
“Felt what?”
Peter’s jaw tightened slightly.
“Pain.”
Not sharp.
Not localized.
Wide.
Diffuse.
Layered.
“Like something is being processed.”
“Repeatedly.”
“Continuously.”
He looked toward the resort buildings.
“I don’t know why.”
“I don’t know how.”
“But it’s here.”
The lake shimmered peacefully.
Children laughed nearby.
A couple walked past with drinks.
Normal.
Perfect.
Peter’s voice dropped.
“God gave humans pain as a warning.”
“As a signal.”
“I’m here to stop it.”
He stood up slowly.
“I have to save everyone here.”
The breeze across the lake felt colder now.
Not because something had changed.
But because they understood—
Whatever was happening inside this resort—
It wasn't an illusion alone.
Something living was suffering.
Constantly.
And Peter could feel every second of it.