She had never been meant to be a soldier. She was a clone, grown in a sterile pod, created in the image of a woman society had thrown away. Her bones had been artificial. Her blood had been cooled by a machine.But love was not always loud.
Sometimes, it hummed beneath the surface, quiet asThe lab's air purifiers, steady as the heartbeat coded into her chest.The lab that made her had never been meant for war. It smelled of metal and jasmine. There had been screens and rows of diagnostics blinking green. But there had also been photographs taped to walls, lullabies woven into system bootups, and warmth in the synthetic hands that first lifted her from her pod.She had no father. But she had a mother, not a biological mother, but a clonal mother.
A woman who was cast away from society and lived alone in the mountains.Who coded kindness into her DNA, who whispered bedtime stories into neural pathways, who believed that even something grown in glass could still be held with love.But things didn't always end with love.
One day, the authorities came upon the discovery of her doings. They came with silence, no warnings, no notice, but only black suits, synthetic gloves, and weapons. They came to take the child from her. A miracle that couldn't be left in private hands.Her "mother" fell into helplessness, like something being torn from her soul.The child didn't cry. She didn't understand, not yet. But something inside her changed.
She raised her like her own child; she was healed by her presence beside her, under that old roof. But she did not give up; she tried to save her, even if it meant rewriting the past.
The new lab was colder. Cleaner. Crueler. They didn't speak to her like a human. They measured her. Modified her. Replaced her limbs, carved steel into her spine, and fire into her nerves over and over again. For years, she was forced to endure hundreds of training sessions. Her body was weak due to the weight of the new machinery parts. Along with other test subjects, she was trained excessively; others lost their lives, others were killed, but she didn't dare to refuse. Until she did. She was the only one who managed to pass the training, but then she refused to do more, and the scientists saw that as "unneeded emotions." And they stripped her emotions away from her. The training continued until she was combat-ready.She was designed for the end of the world.
In a time where the dead rose twisted—where corpses mutated into monsters that starved for the living—Nemi was humanity's desperate answer. A cybernetic soldier. Stripped of emotion. Trained to obey. Modified again and again, each failure dissected until she no longer felt the weight of fatigue, hunger, or fear.Until she became perfect.When she was deemed combat-ready, she was assigned to a classified unit.Ghosts in a war humanity had already lost. Soldiers were selected not for their survival, but for their adaptability.
001: Oris - He was equipped with a customized Sniper rifle that only he could handle002: Leona - The conqueror of Close Quarter and hand-to-hand combat003: Rael - The eccentric engineer, a genius in his craft004: Nemi - The cyborg that adapted to any form of combat
Together, they carried out impossible missions across a decaying world.Where bullets failed, they adapted. Where the army fell, they endured. But while the others laughed, struggled, bled—Nemi simply followed orders. She didn't smile. Didn't cry. Didn't understand. Still... she listened.
For years, they spent time together roaming on this dying world, saving people, destroying, and locating. Throughout hardships, their bond deepened. But Nemi couldn't understand emotions, but she observed others, she observed their pain, hardships, emotions, and learned to adapt to them. And deep inside her, who knew if she actually cared and cherished them? Even she couldn't find that answer.
One day, they were sent north, to the edge of the world. A frozen wasteland.A large hole with a spiral staircase descending into an underground bunker once meant to save humanity.
The deeper they went, the stranger things became. Days blurred. Shadows moved. And then, they found them—not the usual groaning, shambling dead, but something new. Evolved. Faster. Smarter. Deadlier.The necromutants had evolved.
The fight was instant. Savage. Gunfire, steel, and explosives.
They struggled to survive, even with futuristic armory, weaponry, and even tactics. When against the odds, they still lost. They fell one by one, and Nemi was the last standing. Immobilized, bleeding, alone, until she stopped moving.
But the world didn't end.When they fell, their mission didn't stop. Even when they maintained absolute anonymity, people still remembered; upon knowing they had fallen, some fell into despair, some cried, some lost hope, but some, they rose. Created a new unit specializing in counter-fire necromutants. And who knew if they actually saved the world from the apocalypse?
Even after they fell, one person, a clone, a cyborg. Without doubt, she had died, but she opened her eyes, far from the hell she had lived before, not a different world, not a different reality, but at the same world, the same consciousness, she woke up again, not as a cyborg, not as a clone, but as a human.
Her old memories remained intact, but in fragments, she woke up as a human with all human emotions. How would she live her new life?