Page 54 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

He’s absolutely right.

"So Ravenscroft creates custom omegas who can survive them," Atlas concludes, his voice carrying a rare edge of disgust. "Breaking them down and rebuilding them until they're strong enough…or broken enough…to endure what normal omegas couldn't."

My hand clenches around the gun I'm cleaning, metal creaking under my grip.

"They're creating victims who can survive being victimized. Over and over again."

"Worse," Vale says, turning his laptop to show us strings of code I can't begin to decipher. "They're not just making them survivable. They're making them valuable. These four…they've got special abilities. Enhancements from whatever shit Ravenscroft's been pumping into them. The kind of abilities that would make them irresistible to the right buyer."

“What do you mean? They got magic or some shit?” Kieran asks, looking confused. “You know that isn’t real.”

“No, not magic and shit.” Vale shakes his head, looking focused. “Enhancements. Like making an Omega be able to see in the dark? Or inject them with chemicals that enhance their ability to run a lot faster. Sure, they can’t defy gravity and the common laws of life, but what if they can dodge a lot faster? Can see things at a distance so they can avoid what we can’t see. They’re molding them to be weapons of their own accord.”

Atlas whistles, gauging our attention.

“Create Omegas that can survive the onslaught of raging feral Alphas who’d be desperate to claim them within whatever pack they’ve molded in captivity,” he summarizes. “And the longer they’ve been conditioned in those laboratory states, the more valuable they become for a pack to purchase in the depths of those forbidden islands or hidden underground, where feral Alphas roam and fight, or in the depths of cage rings where only one winner can be rewarded a worthy Omega that can handle that wild violence.”

The room goes quiet as we absorb this.

Each of us has seen horrible things, just as we’ve done a few actions that will haunt us in our graves, but this level of systemically torturing Omegas until the strongest survive, just to sell them to monsters…

It’s a new level of depravity.

"No wonder they authorized termination if we can't extract them cleanly," Kieran mutters. "Can't risk their precious products falling into the wrong hands. Or worse, telling their stories."

"What makes Patient 495 so special?" Kieran asks, breaking the heavy silence that followed Vale's revelation. "Why is she the primary target?"

Vale wheels closer to the table, his movements careful but determined.

"Six years," he says, the words carrying weight. "She's been there the longest. Six years of systematic manipulation, of experimental injections, of being thrown into situations designed to push her past normal survival thresholds."

His fingers drum against his wheelchair arm, a nervous tell he's never managed to break.

"Think about it – six years of constant fight-or-flight response. Of being pushed to adapt or die. Most people would break within months, but she's survived. More than survived – she's adapted."

"What would that do to someone's mind?" Atlas asks softly, his blindfolded face turning toward Vale with eerie precision. "Six years of systematic torture, of being forced to evolve past normal human limits?"

We all fall silent, contemplating the horror of it.

Even with our collective experience of violence and trauma, it's hard to imagine surviving that kind of prolonged psychological warfare.

Vale breaks the silence first, his tactical mind already analyzing possibilities.

"There are two likely outcomes," he says, voice clinical but hands trembling slightly. "First scenario – she's gone completely feral. Pure animalistic response, no higher reasoning left. If that's the case..." He swallows hard. "If we can't reach any trace of humanity in her, termination might be a mercy."

The words land like lead in my stomach. Six years of suffering, only to be put down by the people meant to save her.

The wrongness of it tastes like ash in my mouth.

"That can't be our only option," I say, surprised by the vehemence in my voice. Looking around, I see the same resistance written on my packmates' faces. Even with our feral moments, and our sometimes-tenuous grip on our alphainstincts, we'd exhaust every possibility before harming an omega we're meant to protect.

"Second scenario," Vale continues quickly, clearly as uncomfortable with the first option as the rest of us. "Her mind could have developed a compartmentalization mechanism. A split consciousness, if you will. One part remains capable of normal interaction, while another..." He searches for words. "Another part emerges when triggered, like a survival program activating in response to specific stimuli."

"Like an animal's fight-or-flight response?" Kieran asks, leaning forward with interest.

"Exactly. Even the gentlest creature will go feral if its survival is threatened. But with Patient 495, Ravenscroft could have deliberately cultivated this response. Made it controllable, predictable."

Atlas nods slowly.

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