Humans cannot recall what happened in the last few seconds before falling asleep.

Falling asleep is an instantaneous lapse of consciousness.

Waking feels like fragments rising from the depths of the ocean, gradually piecing together in the process.

When John could think again, he had the sensation of waking up in the middle of the night.

He still remembered Kenichi Sora bidding him farewell before he lost consciousness, and then realized—that was a long time ago.

The first time he opened his eyes, the process was unpleasant.

The first thing John sensed was sound.

The monotonous ticking of machines, very distant, like it was across a layer of water, and then his stomach began to convulse, causing him to curl up and start vomiting.

Nothing filthy came out, only a pain tearing at his chest.

He found himself with a breathing tube, soaked in a tank, and upon opening his eyes he could only see muddied liquid and blurred outlines distorted by the glass.

John was able to think again.

He even recalled the most profound scene in his memory.

Tiebang Logistics transport accident.

John Chavez pried open the transport vehicle's door, seeing that the cargo he was escorting was a human soaked in a tank—just like himself now.

A string of tiny bubbles floated up from beneath him.

John fell asleep again.

Until he once more sensed light, not the pale sun of Eden City, nor the dazzling neon under pitch-black night rain, but the hospital ward's kind of stark, even, unrisen cold light.

Then came the sound again.

The machines ticked rhythmically, not muffled by water, close to his ear.

Finally came the control of his body.

That strange, awkward, painless, healthy body that he had never owned before.

John tried to take a breath, no liquid surged in, his lungs expanded, driving the firm muscles of his abdomen to flex, strong and forceful like a bellows.

He opened his eyes accordingly.

No Black Light prompts, no location coordinates, only a gentle movement deep within the Messiah's Eye.

Still the Messiah's Eye, the model drunken Ryan had installed for him by hand.

John's mind felt a bit vacant, lost, with a hint of confusion, until memories seeped in like water, his breathing gradually becoming rapid.

Eden City, Central Plaza, Internet Surveillance, Starlink fallout…

He raised his hand to touch his neck, no chip, no sound of electricity in his brain.

Kenichi Sora was completely gone.

John looked around, realizing the room was small, circular, with a bathroom, electronic walls filled with data, medical equipment complementary to the bed, and…

Bismarck sitting by the bed.

He sat silently on a single sofa, wearing the high-end suit from the last time they met, when he signed by John's hospital bed.

But he looked… different.

His hair was greasy, having that dirty texture of dried, hardened, and sebum-enhanced clumps.

Stubble abundant, eye sockets sunken, skin showing an unhealthy gray-brown color.

John sat on the hospital bed, locking eyes with him, feeling strength gradually surging within, while the man opposite looked like a zombie unable to blink.

That high-end suit was wrinkled, the white undershirt exposed, the belt undone, showing parts stained with numerous smudges.

He was alive.

Bismarck's eyelids trembled, shifting his position, locking his gaze on John.

His eyes had also changed, devoid of the arrogant sharpness of a corporate elite, replaced by something indescribable.

"You're awake."

Bismarck's voice was very light, as if fearing to disturb something.

John wanted to speak, but no sound came out the first time he opened his mouth.

Bismarck walked over, handing a glass of water, his movements so natural it felt foreign to John—they were not on the terms of handing each other water.

"Post-surgery aphasia, quite normal."

Bismarck sat in a chair closer to the bed. "The Neural Ark was very smooth, your current body is brand new, in every sense."

He began describing the surgical procedure from a third-person perspective.

John listened silently.

The vacuum tube was responsible for directing the surgery; both the people and equipment were brought by them.

John's original body was completely opened, flesh and blood separated like garbage, the prosthetic parts extracted, cleaned, and maintained; those unusable were discarded.

The entire process was no different from a slaughterhouse, just with more advanced equipment, more meticulous techniques.

"Then they rolled in a nutrient tank."

When Bismarck said this, his expression was somewhat insane.

The corners of his mouth turned up, his eyes widened.

"Inside that body was identical to yours, you understand? In every sense, I've tried to ask about the body's source, and Gaia Cells also have cloning projects, just not this perfect."

EUROPHASARK [Neural Ark] is a global cutting-edge surgery.

A branch within it, consists of technical bottlenecks that the medical field has long struggled to overcome.

Bismarck observed the whole process.

He was not allowed to record the equipment, no one answered his queries, nor was he allowed any contact with the outside world during the surgery.

"My presence there was merely to sign off on the surgery, as agreed upon when the Source Formula and the vacuum tube made their deal."

Bismarck's gaze began to drift.

The first consciousness recovery occurred two weeks later.

The process was smooth.

Memory transplantation, neural reconstruction, consciousness activation.

John woke up in the new body.

The time was six seconds.

Then he was drugged and fell into a coma again, for a long period after that, undergoing phased surgeries, doing body reconstruction, restoring the prosthetics extracted from the original body by putting them back intact.

"Two… two weeks?"

John finally squeezed out a voice, throat bitter, mouth full of a medicinal taste. "How long was I out?"