Chapter 82: Side Effects

Scar walked over to the battle console and began inputting his parameters: five opponents, medium difficulty, full contact mode.

He loaded up five combat dummies first.

The system accepted his parameters and the training room shifted instantly.

From hidden compartments in the walls, five humanoid robots emerged. They were impressive machines. Each one stood roughly two meters tall, constructed from reinforced alloy with jointed limbs designed to mimic human movement patterns. Their faces were blank metal plates, featureless except for the glowing red optical sensors that served as eyes.

The moment they activated, all five bots turned toward Scar in perfect synchronization.

[COMBAT SIMULATION INITIATED]

The speakers in the room announced.

[OPPONENTS: 5]

[DIFFICULTY: MEDIUM]

"BEGIN."

Scar moved from the spot instantly.

The world blurred.

His body responded with a fluidity and precision that would have been impossible before the serum. Every movement felt natural, effortless, like his limbs were extensions of his will rather than physical appendages that needed to be controlled.

The first dummy attacked from the right. Scar sidestepped without thinking, his body flowing around the strike like water around a stone.

The second dummy came from behind. He ducked under its swing, spun on his heel, and was already in a new position before it could recover.

The third and fourth dummies attacked simultaneously from opposite angles.

Scar leaped.

His body soared through the air with an ease that felt almost supernatural. He twisted mid-flight, passing between the two attacks, and landed in a roll that brought him back to his feet without losing any momentum. But the fifth dummy was already waiting there. Its fist came toward his face.

Scar's accelerated perception kicked in automatically—not because he needed it, but because his instincts had already processed the threat and responded before his conscious mind could catch up.

Time seemed to slow down.

The fist approached.

Scar tilted his head slightly, and the punch missed by centimeters. Then he leapt back gracefully, putting distance between himself and the bots.

He let out a soft chuckle.

He was faster than before. Not by a massive margin—the serum had only added 50 km/hr to his top speed—but the increased agility made everything feel different. His movements were sharper. More precise. More controlled.

He could change direction instantly. He could flow between attacks with a grace that felt almost like dancing. And best of all, he hadn't even begun to feel tired. His stamina bar had barely dropped.

The bots charged once again. They attacked simultaneously. Five machines moving in five directions.

Scar moved through them all with ease. One robot swung its metallic fist. He leaned backward, and the fist passed directly above his face.

Another attacked his flank. He sidestepped. One tried to sweep his legs. Scar jumped over it, landed on the robot's shoulder, pushed off and flipped away. He landed a few meters away, but just as he did—

BAM!

A fist slammed into his stomach.

Scar's eyes widened.

One of the bots had anticipated his movement pattern and struck at the exact moment his feet touched the ground, landing a clean hit directly to his solar plexus.

The impact was solid.

But that was all it was.

Scar looked down at the metal fist pressed against his abdomen. He barely felt it. There was no pain. No shock of impact. Just a dull pressure that his body absorbed without complaint.vHis reinforced muscles had taken the hit like it was nothing.

A slow smile spread across Scar's face. He looked up at the five dummies surrounding him.

"My turn," he whispered.

Then, he moved.

This time, he didn't dodge or block. He attacked.

Whack!

The first bot's head came off with a single punch. Scar's fist tore through the metal alloy like it was paper, sending the robot's cranium spinning across the training room. The body crumpled to the ground, sparks flying from its exposed neck.

The second dummy lunged at him. Scar caught its arm, twisted, and drove his elbow through its chest cavity. The robot collapsed, its internal systems destroyed.

The third and fourth attacked together. Scar was already moving between them. His left fist crushed the third dummy's torso. His right fist shattered the fourth's spine assembly. Both machines hit the ground at the same moment, their optical sensors flickering out.

The fifth bot stood frozen, its programming apparently struggling to process the destruction of its companions.

Scar appeared in front of it, and delivered one punch to its chest.

The bot exploded backward, its body breaking apart into scattered pieces of metal and wiring that clattered across the training room floor.

[COMBAT SIMULATION COMPLETE]

[ALL OPPONENTS ELIMINATED. DURATION: 4.7 SECONDS]

Scar stood in the center of the destroyed training dummies, breathing steadily. He wasn't even winded.

He'd defeated five combat dummies in less than five seconds. With his bare hands. And without taking any damage.

He looked down at his fists.

The knuckles were unmarked. No cuts, no bruises, no sign that he'd just punched through reinforced metal.

A dark chuckle escaped his lips.

So this is what it feels like.

He clenched his fists, feeling the power coiled in his arms, his shoulders, his entire body. The strength felt natural, like it had always been there, waiting to be unlocked.

This is how Xavier feels when he fights using his fists and strength alone. It's exhilarating.

Scar turned toward the training room door, already thinking about how he'd show the old man his new physique. Xavier's training were always brutal, but with this kind of physical upgrade, Scar was confident he could handle whatever labors the man threw at him.

Just then, the door opened. And Emily walked in.

She was dressed in a form-fitting training gear, with her hair pulled back, and carrying that familiar focused expression on her face. She had clearly been on her way in to begin her own session, wrapping tape around her knuckles.

"Morning," she said without looking up. "You're up early for—" she paused, her eyes widening as she finally looked at him. She froze in her tracks, dropping her roll of tape. She gazed at him in shock, her eyes scanning from his face to his shoulders, to his arms.

"What the hell happened to you?!" she demanded.

"Huh?" Scar blinked. He glanced down at himself, then back at her, doing his best impression of innocent confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that." Emily stepped into the room, circling him like a shark that had spotted blood in the water. "You were not this… this..." She gestured vaguely at his entire torso. "…tall yesterday. You didn't even have muscles like this. What the hell did you do?"

"I don't know what you mean, Emily." Scar shrugged, the movement making his shirt strain across his back. "I'm just as surprised as you are," he said dryly. "Puberty's really something else."

Emily's eyes swept over him from head to toe. "You seriously expect me to believe that this is puberty?"she scoffed. "That you just magically grew overnight?"

"Yeah." Scar replied flatly.

Emily stared at him.

He stared back.

Neither of them blinked or spoke.

Then Emily's eyes narrowed.

"Hold on." She took a step closer, studying him with renewed intensity. The pieces clicked together behind her eyes, and she arrived at the only logical conclusion.

"You went to Alicia's house yesterday. And now you're suddenly taller, and… muscular." Her eyes widened in realization. "You used a Durability Serum."

It wasn't a question. It was a clear accusation.

Scar didn't deny it. There was no point. Emily was too sharp, and the evidence was standing right in front of her in a shirt that was now two sizes too small.

"Oh my god." Emily's voice rose with disbelief. "You actually took it. Do you have any idea what that stuff does? They decommissioned it for a reason, Roy! It was giving people cancer. Actual, cancer. How can you still go ahead and use it despite knowing the risks? Why would Alicia even give one to you?"

"Relax, Emily," Scar said calmly. "I feel fine."

Emily scoffed. "Cancer doesn't happen overnight, genius."

Scar crossed his arms. "Yeah. But, I'm going to be fine," he insisted. "There were no side effects at all. I guess my body adapted to it perfectly. I mean, it's not like everyone who used it back then developed cancer. Some of the consumers—approximately eighty percent—were totally fine. So give it a rest, Emily. I'm not going to have cancer or whatever."

Emily was silent for a moment, considering his justifications. Finally, she spoke.

"Does mum about this?" she asked. "Does she know you injected yourself with a cancer serum?"

Scar met her eyes. "Even if she did know," he said quietly, "I've already taken it. There's nothing anyone can do about it now."

Emily stared at him for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. It was a harsh, disbelieving sound, devoid of humor. "Is that what you think?" She scoffed. "You and Alicia are in big trouble." She turned toward the combat module and began loading her own combat sequence. "You'll be lucky if mum doesn't kill you before the cancer does. Enjoy your new physique while it lasts."

Scar watched her for a moment. He didn't retort or argue any further. He simply turned and left the training room.

...…..

Back in his room, Scar stood under the shower. He ran his hands over his new body—the harder planes of his stomach, the thicker cords of his neck, the way water sheeted off skin that felt somehow more resilient. When he stepped out of the bathroom and went to dress, he encountered a slight problem.

His tracksuit didn't fit.

He pulled on the pants and they stopped mid-calf, the fabric digging into thighs that had grown too dense. The jacket wouldn't close over his chest, the seams threatening to split if he moved wrong.

Scar rummaged through his wardrobe, pushing aside clothes that had been tailored for his previous frame, until he found an old set of casual wear at the back; an old pair of trousers that had always been slightly too long, and a shirt that had once been baggy on his frame.

He pulled them on.

The trousers fit perfectly now, the extra length exactly right for his new height. The shirt, once loose and oversized, now hugged his chest and shoulders in a way that was comfortable without being restrictive.

He made a mental note to have his entire wardrobe adjusted and replaced. Every clothing he owned was obsolete now.

But for now, this would do.

After checking himself in the mirror be last time, he turned and left the room.

The hallway outside was quiet. He made his way through the mansion, noting the way the guards and staff seemed to do double-takes as he passed. Their eyes would widen, their expressions shifting from polite acknowledgment to confused surprise, then back to careful neutrality.

No one said anything.

They just watched.

When he finally stepped outside the palace, the guards stationed at the gates didn't even recognize him at first. It wasn't until Scar looked up, flashing his purple eyes, that they realized who he was. They quickly bowed, respectfully tapping the console to open the massive iron gates.