NOVEL NEXT Chapter 19: Chapter 19
Zedd laid back on his bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling of his cabin. The quiet, still air wrapped around him as he held his notes in his hands, the pages filled with detailed diagrams and calculations. His eyes flicked from one page to the next, each line a testament to the countless hours he had spent perfecting his research. The synthetic tissue, his crowning achievement, had taken weeks of work, experimentation, and careful refinement. Now, it was ready. His body was the last test, and failure was not an option.
He reread the procedure, the one that would make him the surgeon and the patient all at once. The stakes were incredibly high; one wrong move, one mistake, and it would all be over. His thoughts were sharp, his focus unwavering. He couldn't afford to hesitate. The procedure would begin soon, and once it did, there would be no turning back.
Zedd's mind wandered back, past the hours spent in the quiet corners of the military academy, his hands stained with blood, his mind focused on a singular goal—perfection. Before age five, his memories were nothing but blackness, empty fragments of a life that never truly began. The first thing he could recall clearly was a caretaker's hand in his, guiding him through the harsh world of the academy. The rest of his life had been a blur of pain, learning, and survival.
His journey had never been a normal one. Instead of playing games with other children, he'd been thrust into a life of relentless training and intense pressure. By the time he was a teenager, Zedd had come to question everything—the limitations of the human body, the boundaries of pain and suffering, and the very essence of what it meant to be human. His instructors saw him as an enigma, something to be molded and shaped. He was a tool for their war games, a weapon forged for the academy's endless conflict.
But then came the day he snapped. When Zedd had realized that the only way to rise above was to rid himself of his weakness—his humanity—he had murdered thirty classmates and instructors. The bodies piled up in his wake, his hands stained with their blood, and yet it was never enough. It was never going to be enough. But he wasn't stupid. He knew when to run. He'd been caught red-handed, cornered by Kayden and Murray, his two closest friends. They had no idea what he had become, what he had done. They were the last tie he had to the life he left behind, but he knew, deep down, that they couldn't stop him now. So, he ran.
For the past three weeks, he had laid low, blending in with the villagers, unnoticed in the shadows. Zedd didn't know how the academy had failed to find him, but he wasn't about to question it. Maybe they thought he was dead. Maybe they thought he was gone for good. Whatever the reason, Zedd had no intention of giving up the life he had carved out here. He was ready to complete his work, and that meant replacing his body's frailties with something stronger.
Tonight, he would complete the final stage of his transformation.
Zedd's hand brushed against the synthetic tissue. It lay there, pale and lifeless, just like the body he was about to replace. He had spent weeks refining the material, ensuring that every fiber was as close to perfection as possible. It needed to be seamless, to bond with his flesh in a way that would make the transition invisible, like nothing had ever been done at all.
He had calculated the proportions, the exact amount of tissue required for each part of his body based on his height and weight. He knew the precise measurements. He had double-checked everything. The left side of his body, from shoulder to waist, would be replaced entirely. It was a daring choice—one that required immense precision. The left shoulder, the upper arm, the chest, all the way down to his hip. His body would change, but his strength would increase tenfold. He would push the human form beyond its limits.
Zedd took a deep breath, steadying himself as he studied the synthetic tissue once more. The pale white fibers gleamed under the flickering candlelight. They were ready. But Zedd knew he wasn't. The preparation, the procedure, everything had to be perfect. One wrong cut, one slip of the scalpel, and it was over. He couldn't afford to mess this up. The consequences were too dire.
He sat up and stretched, his body aching from the strain of the work he had already put in. It was a quiet day outside. The village was calm, but Zedd could feel the pressure mounting, like an invisible weight bearing down on his shoulders. He knew what he was about to do would change everything—his life, his body, his future.
The thought of what he had to endure made his stomach churn. Pain, blood, and an uncertain future. It was a lot to carry. But Zedd had never been one to back down. His entire life had been about pushing boundaries, about questioning what was possible and what wasn't. He had already surpassed every expectation placed on him. This was just the next step in his evolution.
He stood, moving toward the small table in the corner of his cabin, where his surgical tools were neatly arranged. Scalpel. Scissors. Needles. Everything he would need for the procedure was there, ready for him to use. He adjusted his gloves and set the tools in place. There was no room for error. He would be both surgeon and patient.
Zedd focused on the task at hand. He had to maintain absolute control. His hands were steady as he picked up the scalpel. The first incision would be the most difficult, the most dangerous. But once he started, there would be no going back.
His breathing slowed, each exhale a reminder of the precision needed. The procedure would take hours—hours that would feel like an eternity. He needed to remain calm, detached from the pain. It was the only way to survive.
He gazed down at the synthetic tissue once more. It was time.