The orange-haired scientist wiped the blood from his hands onto his dirty white lab coat. He straightened up, staring at Xavier. He walked up and lifted his chin, examining his face methodically. Xavier tried to move his face, but he couldn't. He was paralyzed.
"He will make a good Demaranian minion," he muttered quietly. "A good one indeed, and it has been a long time since I've seen a black."
Xavier stared firmly at the beady eyes of the scientist. Meanwhile, his mind shut down, trying to think of ways to escape.
"I expected more, Bignath," he said to the Demaranian, finally turning his eyes to her. "You know this is not enough."
"This is the only one I saw, Theron," Bignath replied. "Apparently, he was the only one to be awakened as an F-rank in the entire five kingdoms. No other has been sent to Carragis."
"What about the Pale creatures?" Theron asked. "Are you sure they haven't killed any of them like they did to that man two years ago? You know we saw him mauled by them."
"Look," Bignath said, her tone icy. "I do not need to answer your questions, especially from a lesser being like you. Your job is to do what you're told. The Demaranians promised you our blood, and we keep our promises, but you follow our bidding."
Theron chuckled sarcastically. "Oh, spare me the sermon. If we're lesser beings, as you say, then why do you need us? You're only stronger than us in combat, not intellectually. And besides, I'm in charge, not you. That was what Vardos ordered."
Xavier listened. 'Vardos must be a Demaranian, and a higher one at that. And this must be one of the people who betrayed humanity for power. I need to get out."
But his thoughts were interrupted when Bignath advanced forward, her face twisted in anger. She walked up, her hand stretched out, wrapping it around his neck. She clearly lifted him up and helped him hang in the air.
Xavier, who was on the floor, stared at Theron, who was choking, his hands on her wrist, his feet dangling, but he was grinning through the choke.
"You can't kill me," he gurgled. "Your nation needs me, and you know if you kill me, there will be hell to pay."
Bignath gazed at him before she hissed, dropping him to the floor, and he landed in an untidy heap. Theron gasped, inhaling air, then started coughing.
"Know your place," she simply said, before walking back to where Xavier lay.
Theron picked himself up, dusted his already dirty shirt, and turned to one of the minions. "Put him in the pod."
From the shadows, they emerged.
Not guards. Not soldiers.
Creatures.
Mutated assistants, half-human, half-machine, their bodies stitched together with wires and bone. Their movements were jerky, unnatural, like puppets pulled by invisible strings. One had a mechanical jaw that clicked with every breath. Another dragged a limp leg behind it, leaving a trail of fluid that hissed on the floor.
They reached Xavier and grabbed him without ceremony.
He struggled, weakly, but their grip was iron. His arms were pinned, his legs lifted, and he was carried like cargo toward a massive pod embedded in the wall. The glass was thick, fogged with condensation, and behind it swirled a viscous green liquid that pulsed like it had a heartbeat.
The pod hissed open.
Inside, restraints unfolded like arms welcoming him home.
"No," Xavier muttered, thrashing. "You're not doing this."
The creatures didn't respond.
They shoved him inside.
The restraints snapped shut around his wrists, ankles, chest, and neck. The pod sealed with a hydraulic groan, locking him in darkness. A faint light flickered above him, illuminating the interior—lined with needles, tubes, and strange runes etched into the glass.
Then the liquid began to rise.
Thick. Green. Alive.
It poured in from hidden vents, creeping up his legs, cold and heavy. Xavier gasped as it reached his waist, then his chest. It smelled like metal and mold, like something ancient trying to remember how to breathe.
Outside, the scientist watched with glee.
He leaned close to the glass, his grin wide, his eyes gleaming with twisted pride.
"You should be grateful," he said, voice muffled but clear. "You're paving the path to evolution."
Xavier's eyes widened.
The liquid reached his throat.
"You'll be the first of a new breed," the scientist continued. "Not quite human. Not quite a machine. Something better. Something permanent."
The green fluid enveloped Xavier's face.
He screamed—but no sound escaped.
Inside the pod, the runes began to glow. The needles extended. The transformation was beginning. His skin tingled, his veins burned, and his mind began to fracture under the pressure of whatever was being injected into him.
And the scientist turned away, satisfied.
"Let the metamorphosis begin."