The pain woke me—it was an all-consuming thing. Blinding, bone-deep, and endless. I tore through my throat, screaming into the muzzle.
I could think and see again, and it was hell.
That last bolt came dangerously close to killing me and brought a slew of new notifications that made me a touch more certain of the fight ahead.
Copy has reached 30% comprehension with Electricity Manipulation.
Domain Amplification has reached Level 2.
You've learned a new skill:
Seventh Sense — You've developed a nascent precognition, heavily governed by your five natural senses and your Cursed Energy sense. Provides a 10% boost to all perception feats.
+10 PER, +10 VIT, +2 CE, +1 AGI, +2 END
I blinked through the haze, catching sight of Priya in the corner, speaking quietly to Gina.
"Artisan would like a word," Gina said. "She's asked me to wheel him up."
"The tissue collection is still underway," Priya replied, folding her arms.
Gina followed her gaze to me, realizing I was awake and watching them.
"There will be plenty of time for torture," she said calmly. "He's not going anywhere."
Priya's expression twisted through a range of emotions before she looked away.
"Fine. Wheel him away. Tell Artisan I expect him back promptly if we're to stay on schedule."
Gina nodded and signaled to two orderlies. They moved in, undoing my leather straps.
For one brief, dangerous second, I considered going on the offensive. I could probably take out a few before they stopped me—but it would only vent frustration, not fix anything.
Gina's lips twitched at my restraint. I almost rolled my eyes, just to deny her the satisfaction.
"Fancy seeing you here again," I said dryly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think Artisan was trying to win me over."
"How'd you figure that?" she asked, setting down a set of sweat clothes in front of me.
They clearly meant for me to strip and change right there. I hesitated only briefly before pulling off my shirt. Gina's gaze lingered. My skin was still spotless—no marks despite months of pain.
"Well," I said, pulling on the sweatshirt, "she hasn't paired me with another Special Grade or even a high First-Grade, and you're pragmatic, which means you won't try to kill me with a. There's also the chance you're the only Special Grade who doesn't want to split me in half with a spork."
Priya shot me a glare before walking out. Gina smiled faintly.
"I'd prefer to crush you with gravity," she said. "But you're right—I'm the only Special Grade Artisan can trust to subdue you."
"I figured." I slipped into the pants and raised my arms for the bindings.
Once I was secure, Gina led me toward the exit of the medical wing.
"Still," I said, "I can't help but feel a little resentful. From what I've heard from Shelim and Lily, most of you Special Grades got the carrot. I got the stick."
"Would any amount of bargaining have convinced you?" she asked.
"No," I admitted. "But it would've been better than enslaving and harvesting me for biological parts."
"Don't forget your skills," Gina said lightly. "We need you to fight for us, too."
"She has jokes now," I muttered. "I think I preferred you surly and emotionless."
Gina hummed softly as we entered the elevator. It took us up to a floor I hadn't seen before. At the end of the hall was an office with mirror windows—the same kind that overlooked the Church. Artisan's office.
"Your perception of our relationship with Artisan is flawed," Gina said. "Choice made under duress is no choice at all. You'll understand that soon enough."
She knocked once. The door opened slowly, revealing Artisan—a tall, voluptuous woman with faint scars and a bright, deceptive smile.
"Come in," she gestured. "I've been expecting you."
A chill crept down my spine. I obeyed.
Artisan gestured to a chair and poured me a drink. I didn't touch it. The gesture was meant to disarm me, to humanize her, to make me forget that she was a monster.
"Not touching your drink?" she said, taking a sip of her own.
"I don't make a habit of leaving myself vulnerable in enemy territory."
"You pretend like that changes anything," she replied. "With a snap of my fingers, I could have Gina break your spine, Priya put you into a medically induced coma, or Shelim torture you endlessly for what you did to Lily."
"What I did?" I scoffed. "You let it happen. You could've taken me at any time—had one of the twins do it. Hell, even Lily could've, if you didn't treat me like some kind of yardstick for your messed-up secret society."
Her lips curved into a predatory smile. "Nobody talks to me like that. People have died for less."
I shrugged, even as my heart thundered. "Well, fear makes me reckless. And I'm going to suffer either way—so why not call you out on your bullshit?"
She laughed softly. "You remind me of your father. He wasn't much for small talk either."
"Oh, is this the part where you regale me with tales of the old days—before you stabbed him in the back and stripped his body for parts?"
"Everyone's the hero in their own story," she said. "But tell me—why do you think I've gone out of my way not to make your father the villain in ours?"
I blinked. "Because there are people alive who still remember what he was really like."
"That," she admitted, "and because the truth was far more interesting."
She settled back in her chair, sipping again. "You know, your dad and I started out not too different from your little band of friends. For a long time, we were the only heroes in Japan, the only sorcerers—until we weren't enough anymore. A rival magician began summoning demons, nearly drowning all of Tsushima. Your father and I stopped him—barely."
I said nothing, just listening as my stomach turned.
"After that," she continued, "he decided keeping the circle too small was selfish. Then the Appellaxian came nine years ago. While the Justice League protected the West, your father, I, and the first generation of sorcerers defended the East. Dozens of Sorcerers died and thousands of humans. In the end, only he and I survived. When I suggested creating another generation—a broader one…"
"The ritual," I whispered. She nodded. "He said no, and you killed him for it."
"Not exactly," she said, tracing the rim of her glass. "Even Superman would've struggled to touch your father on his best day. So, I killed him on his worst. He was injured by an Appellaxian who wanted revenge—and I did the rest."
My body went slack. My mind reeled, trying to process everything I'd heard.
And yet—I hated that I understood her logic. That I might have done the same.
The revelation painted my father in a new light. I wasn't sure how I felt about him being a bleeding-heart hero—but I understood him more.
"You know he was right about your little doomsday cult," I said quietly. "Even if the ritual succeeds, the death toll would be incalculable. There's no guarantee humanity would survive a purge that massive. And the Cursed Spirit it would create…"
"All arguments I've heard before," she interrupted, "from people who lack imagination. Do you really think it's impossible to control the fallout?"
I swallowed. The terrifying part was—I didn't think it was.
George could get her anywhere. With a touch, she could poison, heal, or compromise anyone she wanted, and no one would ever know.
If she secured vows from the right politicians, heads of state, celebrities, dignitaries—she could puppet the world itself. My stomach turned to ice.
If I could put that together, then she'd definitely already thought of it. Maybe even acted on it. Maybe it was already too late.
"Why bring me in at all?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"It's only fitting," she said, standing and leaning against her desk. The low light carved her face into shadow. "Blockbuster Venom might be good for cops and amateurs, but I need soldiers who can stand against the Justice League and everybody else. You're the key to that."
I met her gaze squarely. "I won't give you the vow. Not even if you torture Candice and Sasha."
She laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "You say that now. But you might feel differently when Priya gets her hands on them."
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