Nanotechnology: The Last Prince Of Wales

The streets of Bala were chaos incarnate. People ran in every direction, their screams lost beneath the overwhelming buzz of swarming insects—no, hive-like creatures, ravenous and relentless. They devoured anything that moved, tearing through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. A woman screamed, clutching her child as they both tried to hide in the dark corners of their home. But the swarm was too quick. It tore them apart, leaving only bones in the blink of an eye. The smell of blood and decay was thick in the air, and the ground was littered with the remains of the fallen.

Ethan stumbled through the ruins of the town, his boots crunching against the bones of the dead. His heart hammered in his chest, his mind struggling to process the sight before him. Where was he? What happened here? The very ground seemed to pulse with death, every step a reminder of how much destruction had already occurred.

Then he saw it—a pile of bones, stacked haphazardly, a monument to the horror. Atop the pile lay a body. His body. Ethan's breath hitched. No... It was him not Ieuan. The other Ethan wore a smirk that seemed to mock him.

Before he could even think, the hive was on him. The swarm rushed forward, their sharp mandibles clicking in anticipation as they latched onto his legs. Ethan screamed as the pain tore through him—tearing flesh from bone, his body giving way to their insatiable hunger. His head spun as the swarm crawled up, each bite sending shockwaves of agony through his body. "No! Get off me," He tried to move, tried to run, but they were too fast. The insects surged forward, reaching for his head, and the horrible sight of his own eyes bulging in terror as the swarm made its way to his skull.

Ethan woke with a jolt, gasping for air. His heart was racing, his body slick with sweat as he clutched at his legs. "I'm alive!?" His breathing was shallow, frantic, as the vivid nightmare still clung to his senses. It felt too real, too familiar. His body shook, the pain lingering even though he was back in the safety of his own room.

He closed his eyes, remembering. Oh, that's right... He had modified his body. He'd done it to feel more human, to regain the connection he'd lost. The nanobots had adjusted his physiology, allowing him to experience a wider range of emotions. He had balanced the cold precision of his enhanced abilities with the warmth of human feeling. But had he done enough?

Slowly, Ethan rose from his bed, wiping his face. His hands shook as he touched his chest, feeling the muscle beneath his skin. His body was still superhuman, but now it felt more like his. He looked at himself in the mirror, inspecting the refined tone of his physique, his sharp jawline and light blonde hair. Not too shabby. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he examined himself below.

Beca stood outside the door, fidgeting nervously. The food had been prepared, yet Ethan hadn't come out. Her mind raced as she moved toward his room, curiosity and concern fighting for dominance. She pushed the door open, her voice loud. "My lor—"

Then she froze.

There he was—shirtless, his body bare, standing before the mirror holding his stern member. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes darting down to his toned form, and—"oh gods, what...?"

Her cheeks flamed instantly, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. She quickly closed the door, her heart pounding in her chest. The size of it...Is it always that big!? Her face was on fire as the image burned into her mind.

Ethan already heard her coming with his heightened senses, She must be thinking about how it, he chuckled, as he felt his hunger increasing and it wasn't for food but something more. He dressed and went to breakfast.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, the clatter of cutlery filling the room as he ate his meal. "Fill my cup," he commanded, his voice calm yet authoritative. Alys, the maid stepped forward, wine jug in hand, ready to pour.

"Not you," Ethan said, his gaze settling on Beca.

Beca, startled by the sudden attention, hesitated before stepping forward to pour the wine into his cup. Her hands trembled slightly as she performed the task, her heart pounding in her chest. Ethan took a long sip, the room heavy with a tense silence.

As he sliced into his egg, Ethan's voice cut through the quiet. "What you did today was punishable." His tone was measured, deliberate.

Beca's eyes widened in confusion. "What I did?" she stammered, her voice laced with worry.

Ethan set down his utensils, fixing her with a steady gaze. "You entered your lord's room without knocking. Are those the manners your father taught you?"

Beca's breath hitched. She stuttered, "I... I'm sorry, lord. It won't happen again."

From the corner, Alys watched with a faint smirk, silently amused by the unfolding scene.

Ethan's eyes flicked to Alys. "You. Come punish her."

Alys blinked, momentarily taken aback. She hesitated before stepping forward, her amusement turning to apprehension. "Lie on the table," Ethan commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Beca, her face flushed with a mix of shame and fear, obeyed. She climbed onto the table, her hands gripping the edges as she lay down, her heart racing. Ethan gestured toward Alys. "Lift her skirt."

Alys's hands trembled as she did as instructed, revealing Beca's plump backside. The room seemed to hold its breath. Alys began to slap Beca, each strike echoing in the quiet dining hall. Beca bit her lip, suppressing the whimpers that threatened to escape.

Ethan lounged back in his chair, watching with a grin. His sharp senses picked up on a faint sound—a rustling breath, barely audible. His gaze shifted subtly, and he smelled, it was Tarwyn lurking, his hand moving beneath his clothing as he watched the scene unfold.

Internally, Ethan sneered. Sick bastard. He raised a hand, gesturing to Alys. "That's enough."

Alys stopped immediately, stepping back with relief. Beca remained on the table, her breathing ragged, her face burning with humiliation.

Then he turned his attention back to Beca. "Let this be a lesson," he said, his voice calm but firm. "If you do it again..."

Ethan strode into his study, the weight of the day settling on his shoulders. Pwyll was already there, seated by the window, his eyes tracing the parchment maps spread across the table. They discussed plans for the town—sewage systems, bathhouses, roads—details hinging on the cement that Ethan had promised would revolutionize their infrastructure.

Pwyll, intrigued by Ethan's meticulousness, leaned in. "You've quite the obsession with cleanliness, my lord."

Ethan smirked faintly. "Dirt brings disease, Pwyll" he explained, "It becomes a breeding ground for sickness and we must move beyond it."

Their discussion was cut short by a clamor at the gates. Voices, rough and biting, Pwyll raised a brow, and Ethan's gaze sharpened.

"Well, it seems we have visitors," Ethan muttered, rising from his seat.

At the gates, a commotion unfolded. The Bone Breakers had arrived. Talog, their leader, stood tall and imposing, his unkempt hair cascading over his broad shoulders, his voice a raspy growl. He barked orders, his men mercilessly beating the manor guards. Blood splattered the cobblestones as groans echoed.

Ethan arrived at the scene, his gaze taking in the chaos. Talog turned, a sinister grin stretching across his face. "Ah, you must be the new lord."

"I am," Ethan replied, his tone measured.

Talog spread his arms in mock apology. "Forgive the intrusion. We've simply come for our due—protection money and tax. You see me and Lord Walard had an agreement and i want payment without question."

Pwyll leaned in, whispering in Ethan's ear, only for Ethan to burst into a loud, mocking laugh. He clutched his knees, wiping a tear from his eye. "Bone Breakers?" he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. "What kind of shit name is that?"

The men exchanged uneasy glances. Talog's smirk faltered. Ethan's gaze locked on him, cold and unyielding. "I'll do no such thing as pay you Bone Breaker."

Talog's smile returned, forced and brittle. "Young lord, you must tread lightly. These are hard times. Without us, who will protect this town? Your 100 recruited men? They can't fight. And it would be a shame if something happened to those newly planted fields."

Ethan's eyes narrowed. A threat?

He stepped forward, his posture unflinching. "Talog, is it?" Ethan took a slow breath, the faint scent of decay from Talog's skin filling his senses. Cirrhosis? he assessed internally. "You have yellow skin, a swollen belly and you piss blood?" He then said in a cold tone, "You won't live to see next year,"

Talog's eyes widened in shock. "How... how do you know that!?"

Murmurs rippled through the Bone Breakers.

Ethan's voice was ice. "Now I'm not Waladr, any agreement you had with him ended with his death. Harm my guards, and you insult me directly."

Talog laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "I could have your head right now, brat. Do you know how fucked you are?"

Pwyll, tense, whispered urgently, "Lord, we must—"

Ethan silenced him with a gesture. His eyes burned into Talog's. "I will break your bones, vermin."

Talog sneered, signaling his men. They lunged at Ethan. He moved like lightning, dodging the first attack with ease. Grabbing the assailant's leg, he swung the man like a human hammer, slamming him into another attacker. Bones crunched.

Pwyll gasped, awestruck. "Such strength!"

"Kill him!" Talog roared, panic seeping into his voice.

The gang rushed Ethan, who wielded his human weapon with brutal efficiency. One by one, they crumpled, their bones snapping under the relentless force. The air filled with agonized screams, the ground littered with broken bodies.

Ethan's pulse quickened, exhilaration coursing through him. The primal rush was intoxicating. He knew the truth—no matter how much he changed his body, the killing would never cease.

Talog stood alone, his face pale, horror-stricken as Ethan flung the lifeless body he had used as a weapon. The man's corpse landed with a sickening thud, chest caved in.

Ethan's gaze turned to the guards. His voice devoid of mercy. "Throw the one's alive into the streets for the people they've terrorized."

The guards obeyed without hesitation. One paused, glancing at Talog, who was trembling, a dark stain spreading from his crotch as he crawled backward in fear.

"What about him, my lord?" the guard asked.

Ethan's eyes glinted with cold disdain. "Leave him," he said, turning away.

He tried to feel human again, adjusting his body. But even as he did, the darkness inside him didn't fade. It stayed, growing stronger, wrapping around him like a dark cloak.

He could feel more again, but with it came the rush of power, a thrill that was hard to ignore. Every heartbeat reminded him of the difference between himself and those around him.