A New Vessel

Boruto opened his eyes in pain.

It wasn't "waking up"—that word was too gentle. It was more like some being had been forcibly poured into an unfamiliar vessel, every nerve ending screaming in protest. He tried to raise his arm, only to see deep-blue Light Patterns flowing beneath his skin, like a captive galaxy surging through his veins.

That wasn't human skin.

He sat bolt upright. The monitoring equipment connected to him let out a shrill alarm. Seventeen tubes snapped at once, spraying pale golden liquid across the pristine white walls—it wasn't blood, at least not pure blood anymore. It was some more ancient substance, with the scent of metal and ozone.

"His vital signs are abnormal! Cellular activity is off the charts!" a nurse called from outside the door, her voice muffled and distant, as if coming from beneath deep water.

Boruto lowered his gaze to his hands. His palm lines had changed. They were no longer the chaotic patterns unique to humans, but precise geometric designs that flickered with every breath. He could "feel" this hospital—no, the entire city's network. Every Purifier still operating burned in his consciousness like a beacon. He could count them exactly: 4,847 Purifiers remained in the Tokyo area. Of those, 3,291 were in the first stage of awakening, while 1,556 were undergoing the second stage of transformation. And those who had completed the full transformation like him...

There was only one.

The realization made him dizzy. It wasn't pride he felt, but fear.

A commotion rose from outside the window. Boruto walked barefoot to it, the Light Patterns flaring beneath his feet the instant they touched the floor, as if he were stepping on liquid moonlight. On the plaza outside the hospital's main entrance, the crowd had split into two sharply divided groups.