One day later.
The experimental building's training zone opened early.
Light fell evenly from above, white illumination covering the entire space. The floor was flat and clean, without excess markings—only a standard circular training line at the center.
The low hum of machinery persisted in the air.
The control console was already active.
Several researchers stood before the screens.
The system was loading yesterday's experimental records.
Multiple recovery curves were pulled up, neatly arranged along the left side of the display.
At the center of the training zone stood one person.
Ros.
She stood precisely within the marked circle, her steps aligned perfectly with the lines. Her arms hung naturally at her sides, her posture steady.
She did not look toward the control console.
She simply waited.
Behind the observation glass stood another person.
Seven.
He did not approach the researchers.
He remained in the corner, watching the training zone.
At the console, one researcher glanced at the time.
"Recording begins."
The system activated.
A new identification number was entered.
The timer reset to zero.
At the edge of the training zone, a device moved slowly.
The first round began.
A high-speed impact was released from the side.
The force struck Ros's shoulder.
Her body shifted back half a step.
The fabric at her shoulder tore.
Her skin split open.
Blood quickly seeped out.
The training zone remained silent.
The researchers did not speak.
They were watching the screens.
"Record."
Keyboard clicks followed.
Data began updating.
A few seconds later—
The wound edges changed.
The blood flow slowed.
Skin gradually drew together.
The recovery curve rose steadily on the screen.
One researcher frowned.
"Recovery time matches yesterday."
Another recorded the data.
"Minimal deviation."
The wound fully closed.
Recovery complete.
The console issued another command.
"Second round."
The impact was faster.
Ros tried to sidestep.
But was still hit.
She stepped back.
A longer wound opened along her side.
Blood dripped along her clothing.
Dark red drops marked the floor.
The researchers continued observing.
The recovery curve appeared again.
Seconds later—
The bleeding stopped.
The skin sealed.
Recovery complete.
Two curves were placed on the same chart.
Almost perfectly overlapping.
A brief silence.
"Recovery ability is highly stable."
One nodded.
"Like adaptation."
The third round began.
The impact came from the front.
Striking her chest.
Her body arched back.
Her breath was cut off briefly.
A new wound opened on her arm.
Blood flowed again.
The screen displayed a new curve instantly.
"Recovery response confirmed."
"Speed unchanged."
The bleeding slowed.
The wound closed.
Recovery completed within seconds.
The fourth round changed method.
A cutting device activated.
A thin high-speed line sliced forward.
Ros failed to evade.
Her lower leg was cut open.
Blood ran down.
New stains appeared on the floor.
The recovery curve activated again.
Researchers compared the data.
Timing remained identical.
The wound closed.
Bleeding stopped.
Skin restored.
Four sets of curves were layered.
Almost no variation.
Silence at the console.
"Recovery efficiency extremely high."
Someone said quietly.
"Cause unknown."
The fifth round continued.
An impact from behind.
Ros was struck across her back.
Her body lurched forward.
A new wound opened.
Blood flowed.
The recovery curve rose again.
Researchers began discussing quietly.
"Her tissue repair speed exceeds average significantly."
"Possibly enhanced cellular regeneration."
Another suggested—
"Adaptation from repeated training."
No one disagreed.
Recording continued.
The sixth round.
Intensity increased.
The impact struck.
Ros was pushed back two steps.
Her knee touched the ground briefly.
She stood again almost immediately.
Another wound opened along her leg.
Blood flowed.
The recovery curve rose.
Seconds later—
Closed.
Stopped.
Researchers stared at the screen.
"No decline in recovery speed."
"Stable under continuous testing."
New records were saved.
File numbers increased.
At the center—
Ros returned to the marked line.
Her breathing gradually steadied.
Her expression did not change.
As if accustomed to the process.
In the observation area—
Seven remained silent.
His gaze fixed on Ros.
All previous wounds had disappeared.
No trace remained.
His eyes lingered on her arm.
Then shifted to the floor.
The bloodstains had not dried yet.
The console issued another command.
"Seventh round."
Impact from above.
Ros was struck on the shoulder.
Another wound opened.
Blood ran down her arm.
Seconds later—
Recovery began again.
The researchers were used to it now.
They only recorded time.
The curve completed.
Recovery finished.
From the console—
"One more for confirmation."
The eighth round began.
This time—
Two impacts in succession.
The first struck her shoulder.
The second followed immediately.
Her body was pushed off the marked line.
Wounds opened on her arm and side simultaneously.
More blood than before.
Researchers recorded rapidly.
The recovery curve activated.
Wounds contracted.
Bleeding stopped.
Skin sealed.
Recovery time—
Still consistent.
One researcher spoke—
"Recovery remains identical under consecutive damage."
Another added quietly—
"Highly abnormal constitution."
The system began compiling statistics.
A new chart appeared.
All recovery times aligned in one column.
An average was calculated.
Deviation—
Minimal.
One pointed at the screen.
"From first round until now—no meaningful variation."
Another zoomed in.
All curves overlapped within the same range.
"In theory, repeated damage should reduce efficiency."
"But no such decline is observed."
One researcher thought briefly.
"Possibly an extremely stable recovery system."
Another added—
"Or enhanced physical constitution."
The conclusion was temporarily recorded.
The file saved.
Final round.
Round nine.
Power increased.
Impact struck.
Ros was pushed back several steps.
She regained her footing quickly.
Her shoulder tore open again.
Blood flowed.
The recovery curve appeared.
Researchers continued recording.
Seconds later—
Closed.
Recovery complete.
The system gradually powered down.
The device noise diminished.
The training zone fell silent again.
The console began organizing data.
Files saved.
Records labeled with date.
Researchers discussed results.
To them—
This seemed routine.
In the observation area—
Seven remained.
His gaze fixed on Ros.
Light fell from above.
She stood at the center.
Fully restored.
As if nothing had happened.
Seven watched her.
Every wound—
Gone.
Not even the faintest trace.
He looked down again.
The bloodstains remained.
Dark marks against the white floor.
He stayed silent for a moment.
The researchers had already left the console.
The experiment was over.
The lights remained on.
Ros still stood there.
Waiting for the next command.
Seven finally turned.
He left the observation area.
The corridor was quiet.
Rows of lights extended forward.
His footsteps were light.
He walked for a while.
Paused briefly at the center of the corridor.
Then continued.
His destination—
The Supervisor's office.