The artificial hum of fluorescent lights buzzing in the corridor pierced through the slats of the ventilation grate, signaling that morning—or at least a simulation of it—had arrived in Block 12 of The Monolith. The air inside cell 12-09 still felt heavy, thick with the metallic scent of iron and the remnants of last night's brutality.
On the top bunk, Zerath stirred.
The sound of blankets scraping against hard hide rasped through the quiet as the hybrid creature stretched. He yawned wide, his split jaw parting slightly to reveal rows of teeth designed to tear flesh from bone. He blinked, his glowing red eyes adjusting to the gloom.
His stomach felt comfortable. Sated. There was a warm, primal satisfaction within him after the unexpected "dinner" last night. The memory of the taste of tender human flesh and warm organs still danced on his tongue.
"Hah..." Zerath exhaled a long breath, thin white steam escaping from between the teeth of his bone mask.
With lazy but graceful movements, akin to a big cat just waking from a nap, he peered over the edge, looking down at the bottom bunk. He expected a familiar sight: skinless bones picked clean, a puddle of drying blood, and perhaps a few scraps of meat he had saved for breakfast.
However, what greeted his gaze was not the remains of a corpse.
The bottom bunk was indeed a mess. The mattress was soaked in dark red blood that was beginning to blacken, and there were small chunks of organic tissue left behind. But, there was no body.
"Huh?"
Zerath tilted his head, confused. His eyes swept the narrow cell. And there, standing in front of the stainless steel sink in the corner, was the figure.
Devon.
He stood with his back to Zerath, shirtless. His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim light of the sink. His perfectly defined back muscles shifted as he washed his face. A pair of red wings on his head twitched softly, shaking off droplets of water. He was holding his orange prisoner uniform under the running tap, casually scrubbing a large bloodstain on the chest area as if he were washing out a coffee stain, not the evidence of his own murder.
"Ehhhhhhhhhhh?!"
Zerath's shriek of shock echoed off the metal walls of the cell. He leaped down from the top bunk, landing with a heavy yet agile thud on the concrete floor.
Devon turned slowly, his face flat and expressionless, water dripping from his wet black bangs.
"Oh. Morning," Devon greeted briefly, going back to wringing out his shirt. "Sleep well?"
"You..." Zerath pointed at Devon with a sharp index claw, his voice trembling between confusion and disbelief. "You... are alive?"
Devon shook out his wet prisoner shirt, then calmly put it back on. The damp orange fabric clung to his athletic frame, sending an uncomfortable chill through him, but he paid it no mind.
"Yeah, as you can see," Devon replied, zipping up his shirt. "Bit cold though, wearing wet clothes first thing in the morning."
"But... but..." Zerath stepped forward, staring at Devon's chest, now covered by fabric. He remembered clearly how it felt to tear open that chest cavity, to feel the beating heart in his hand, and to chew on the intestines like noodles. "How is this possible? I ate you! I felt your meat in my stomach! I crushed your head!"
Devon gave him a characteristically lazy look. He leaned his hips against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh, that. Surprising, isn't it?" he said, his tone sounding like a teacher explaining basic math to a slow student. "Why am I not dead? The answer is simple. Because I can Regen."
"Regen?" Zerath parroted, the word sounding foreign on his monstrous tongue. "What is... Regen?"
"Regeneration," Devon explained, tapping his own temple. "The ability to reassemble cells, tissues, and organs. In short, I can grow back body parts that are lost or damaged. As long as my core isn't destroyed, I won't die."
Zerath's eyes went wide. He processed the information with his predator logic.
"Ohhhh..." Zerath nodded, as if understanding. "I can do that too. But I need the black fluid from the lab to close my wounds. Or eat a lot of meat. Do you want to see?"
He raised his hand, preparing to tear his own skin to demonstrate the black fluid inside.
"No, thank you," Devon cut in quickly, raising a palm. "It's too early for body horror. Keep your fluids to yourself."
Zerath lowered his hand, but his glowing red eyes now looked at Devon with a different glint. A hungry glint. Not hunger born of anger, but hunger born of opportunism.
"Wait a minute..." Zerath stepped closer, lowering his head until his bone-mask face was level with Devon's. "Regeneration... that means you can grow back over and over again?"
"Technically, yes."
"That means..." Zerath grinned, his stitched mouth stretching wide. "...an infinite food supply?"
Flick!
Devon flicked the forehead of Zerath's bone mask with his index finger. The sound was loud, like a stone hitting rock.
"Hush! Don't be ridiculous," Devon clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I'm not doing that. I am not your personal livestock. You think regeneration doesn't hurt? It feels like your whole body is being twisted and pulled apart. Once is enough for a lifetime, thank you."
Zerath rubbed his forehead—which didn't actually hurt—but he looked a little disappointed. "Stingy."
"It's not being stingy, it's called human rights," Devon retorted flatly. He sighed heavily, then straightened his posture.
"Alright. Since we failed our first introduction—which ended with you eating my intestines—can we start over properly?"
Devon extended his right hand toward Zerath. His gaze was firm but calm.
"My name is Devon. Prisoner 7734. Nice... to meet you, I guess?"
Zerath stared at the hand. A clean human hand, with long fingers and neat nails. He hesitated for a moment, then snatched the hand with his massive claw. The grip was strong, rough, and the skin felt cold and slightly scaly.
"Since my old owner called me Zerath... then my name is Zerath," he answered. His voice had a strange echoing quality, a blend of a woman's voice and a beast's growl.
"Hmm... old owner?" Devon raised an eyebrow, feeling the texture of Zerath's hand. "What happened to him?"
"Hee..." Zerath grinned again, more terrifying this time. "I ate him."
"Okay. Good info," Devon commented flatly, not surprised in the slightest. He released the handshake.
Devon's scientific curiosity began to take over. His fear was long gone, replaced by an obsessive drive to analyze the anomaly before him. He started walking around Zerath, his eyes scanning the creature from top to bottom like a scanning machine.
"By the way, what exactly are you?" Devon muttered, holding his chin. "From your appearance... posture, muscle structure, and that fur... you look like a wolf combination." He stopped behind Zerath, looking at the large, pointed ears. "And bat? This ear structure... resembles biological sonar."
Zerath turned his body to follow Devon's movements. "Oh, and human. Don't forget about the human."
"So, a Chimera," Devon concluded. "A combination of wolf, bat, and human. A creature resulting from high-level biological experiments."
"Correct."
Devon squatted slightly. Without hesitation or a shred of fear, he began a physical inspection. Devon's hand touched Zerath's leg.
"Digitigrade structure," Devon murmured, feeling Zerath's calf muscles, which were hard as steel. "Very efficient for sprinting and jumping." He traced the sharp bone protrusions on Zerath's knees. "Natural armor. Interesting."
Zerath stayed silent, letting this strange human touch him. It felt... unusual. Devon's touch wasn't painful like the scientists' needles, nor rough like the prison guards. His touch was cold, analytical, but careful.
Devon stood up again, walking to Zerath's back. He held the creature's long tail, lifting it slightly to see the base. "Balance," he said.
Then, with a bravery bordering on stupidity, Devon stepped in front of Zerath. He reached out and slightly lifted the hem of Zerath's tattered prisoner shirt.
"Hey—" Zerath flinched slightly but didn't swat him away.
Devon stared at Zerath's stomach. The skin was milky white but adorned with a pattern of black lines spreading like tree roots or cracks in porcelain. Devon placed his palm on the flat, muscular abdomen, tracing the black lines with his thumb.
"The texture is different," Devon muttered, his face very close to Zerath's stomach. "This isn't a tattoo. It's pigmentation under the epidermis. Maybe a side effect of a mutation serum? or a sign of cell rejection?"
Zerath squirmed, his body tensing. The sensation of Devon's fingers on his stomach felt strange. "Hehehe... that tickles," he chuckled, a sound like a purring engine.
Devon ignored the chuckle. He straightened up, moving to Zerath's arm. He felt the massive bicep, then moved down to the elbow. "Bone protrusions here too. Offensive weaponry."
He shifted to the back. "Extremely wide latissimus dorsi. You must have insane upper body strength."
Then, Devon's gaze shifted to Zerath's chest. Although covered in thick black fur on the upper part, the shape was clearly feminine. But Devon looked at it not with lust, but with the gaze of a surgeon.
However, as his hand moved to the neck area, Devon's finger touched something cold and hard.
Metal.
"Hmm?" Devon brushed aside a bit of the thick fur on Zerath's neck.
There, wrapped tightly around the creature's neck, was a thick, futuristic black metal collar. The collar had a small indicator light blinking red in a slow rhythm, and its surface was adorned with finely engraved magical runes.
"A collar?" Devon muttered, tapping the metal lightly. Ting. "This isn't jewelry. This is a Class-A Magitech Restraint Collar. The same kind worn by wild beasts in gladiator arenas."
Zerath snorted, touching the collar with annoyance. "This ugly thing. If I'm naughty, it feels like getting struck by lightning. Makes me itch."
"Makes sense," Devon thought. "Even a monster like you has to be put on a leash in a place like this."
Finally, Devon looked at Zerath's face.
"Yeah, even though you're female, your face—or at least this mask—looks male," Devon commented honestly. He touched the jaw of the bone mask. "Sharp jawline. A bit like an alpha wolf's face."
Devon's finger traced the vertical black stitches splitting Zerath's face from the forehead, down the nose, to the chin. The stitching was crude, as if the face had been split in two and forced back together.
"And these stitches..." Devon looked into Zerath's red eyes. "Open your mouth."
Zerath obeyed. He opened his jaws.
Devon brought his face closer, peering into the dark oral cavity. "Dominant canines. Pure carnivore structure." He looked deeper. "Stick out your tongue."
Zerath stuck out his tongue. It was long, dark red, and the surface was not smooth.
"Oh..." Devon touched the tip of Zerath's tongue with his finger. "Long and serrated like a big cat... but the texture is soft."
While Devon's finger was still on Zerath's lip, a loud siren suddenly shattered the silence.
BZZZZZZZT! BZZZZZZZT!
The red light on Zerath's neck collar suddenly blinked rapidly, syncing with the light above the cell door.
Zerath's pupils shrank instantly. Conditioned instinct took over. He snapped his mouth shut with a violent clamp.
SNAP!
"Woah!" Devon pulled his hand back as fast as lightning. Zerath's teeth clashed just millimeters from his fingertips. "Close one! Were you trying to eat my finger for dessert?"
"Oh, look at this!" Zerath ignored Devon's protest. He stared at the digital clock on the wall in panic, clutching the collar on his neck which was beginning to heat up. "It's almost time!"
"Huh? Time for what?" asked Devon, confused, still holding his finger that was nearly severed.
"Come on, fast! Before we get electrocuted!"
"Eh? Electrocuted?!"
Before Devon could ask further, Zerath had already grabbed Devon's arm. With shocking strength, he dragged Devon toward the cell door.
But the door didn't open immediately.
Beside the thick steel door, there was a black glass panel blinking blue. A Biometric Scanner.
"Place your hand! Fast!" Zerath ordered, slamming his own large, clawed palm onto the left panel.
Devon, still confused, was shoved roughly by Zerath toward the right panel. "H-huh? Here?"
"Yes, Idiot! If we don't scan in 5 seconds, this floor gets electrified!"
"Crazy..." Devon hurriedly pressed his palm against the glass panel.
ZING.
A blue laser beam scanned Devon's palm from top to bottom, followed by a small red beam scanning his retina.
[PRISONER 7734: VERIFIED.]
[ASSET X9: VERIFIED.]
A robotic female voice spoke from a small speaker. "Synchronization complete. Door unlocking."
CLANG! HISS...
The thick iron door slid open automatically with a heavy hydraulic hiss.
In the doorway stood Eira. The Elf woman looked fresh and neat in her tight warden uniform. She was inspecting her manicured nails, but when the door opened and she looked up to see Devon standing there—whole, clean, and (relatively) sane—her eyebrows shot up high.
"Morning, Devon," Eira greeted, her tone a mix of surprise and amusement. Her eyes swept over Devon's body, searching for scars that weren't there. "You... are still alive?"
Devon shrugged, straightening the collar of his shirt that Zerath had yanked earlier. "Hee... a lot happened last night. We missed the warm introduction session."
Meanwhile, in the corridor outside, the atmosphere was chaotic. Surveillance drones hovered in the air, and cyborg guards were herding other prisoners out of their cells with electric batons.
Eira turned toward Zerath.
"You may go now, Unit X9. Breakfast schedule in Sector B," Eira ordered coldly.
Zerath nodded obediently. He glanced at Devon briefly, a mysterious grin etched on his face as if saying 'see you later, spare food', then he darted off, joining the stream of other monster prisoners, disappearing around the corner of the corridor.
Devon was about to step out, but Eira spread her arm, blocking his path.
"Wait a moment, Sweetie," Eira said with a crooked smile. She reached into her uniform pocket. "Oh right, Devon... I forgot to put on your mandatory 'accessory'."
She pulled out a thick black metal collar, identical to the one Zerath was wearing. A Magitech Restraint Collar.
"Eira..." Devon stepped back, looking at the object with a lazy gaze. " isn't this excessive? I'm already in an underwater prison, guarded by monsters, and the doors use retinal scanners. Where am I going to run?"
"Procedure is procedure," Eira said with a dangerously sweet tone. "Besides, it looks good on your neck."
With a swift movement, she clasped the cold object around Devon's neck.
CLICK. BEEP.
The collar locked with a heavy mechanical sound, shrinking to fit snugly around Devon's neck. Devon felt his energy flow suppressed slightly, as if a dam had closed off part of the river inside his body. It felt tight and uncomfortable.
"Ohhh..." Eira tilted her head, looking at Devon with a strangely adoring gaze. She reached out and petted Devon's head, right between his red wings. "You look like an obedient pet dog now. Suits you perfectly."
Devon swatted Eira's hand away gently, his face flat but his eyes betraying deep annoyance. "Don't get any ideas. I'm not a dog."
"Sure, sure," Eira chuckled. "Now, let's move. Your orientation schedule is packed."
Devon stepped out of the cell, but then he stopped. A mischievous idea crossed his mind to get back at Eira's teasing. He looked back, staring at Eira with an innocent expression.
"By the way, Eira..." Devon said with feigned politeness. "Could you please have my bed cleaned? There is a slight... stain on it."
Eira frowned. "Stain?"
She stepped inside the cell and glanced at the bottom bunk.
Her eyes went wide.
There, on the messy mattress, lay a slaughterhouse scene. A puddle of thick blood that hadn't fully dried, scattered pieces of intestine, shreds of leftover meat, and a stinging metallic stench. It was the remains of Devon's brutal death from just a few hours ago.
Eira stared at the bloody mess, then turned quickly to look at Devon, who was standing in the corridor with iron around his neck.
Devon gave a thin smile, very thin, but full of petty victory.
Eira fell silent for a moment, swallowing hard. She looked back at Devon with a new light in her eyes—a mixture of wariness and a curiosity that was deepening and becoming dangerous.
"Okay, I'll tell the cleaning crew," Eira said, her voice slightly lower, trying to remain calm even though the sight in the cell shook her logic.
"Alright," Eira said, straightening her posture again and flipping her hair. "Now follow me."
Eira walked ahead, her boots clicking tak-tak-tak on the metal floor. Devon followed her, his hand touching the cold iron collar on his neck, stepping toward his first day in hell, leaving the remains of his own death behind.