When my consciousness slowly returned, the first thing that reached me was the smell.
It was thick and unpleasant, a heavy metallic scent that clung to the damp air and made my stomach tighten the moment I breathed it in. For several seconds my mind remained sluggish and distant, still trapped somewhere between sleep and reality as the memories of the previous night slowly began to return.
The inn.
The quiet man behind the counter.
The sudden flash of pain when the blade pierced through my stomach.
My eyes opened slowly.
The ceiling above me was made of rough stone, its surface darkened by age and streaked with stains that looked far too old to identify clearly. Some of them had dried into nearly black patches, and the faint smell rising from them made it easy to guess what they had once been.
Blood.
I forced myself to sit up, my back pressing against the cold wall behind me as I tried to steady the dizziness spinning inside my head. My body felt weak and stiff, every movement reminding me of the desperate run through the forest the night before, but the sharp pain that should have been tearing through my stomach was strangely absent.
Instinctively my hand moved to my abdomen.
My fingers brushed against thick cloth.
Bandages.
Someone had wrapped my wound carefully, the cloth tight enough to keep pressure on the injury but clean enough that it was obvious the person who had treated it knew what they were doing. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing beneath the bandage, but it was no longer the unbearable agony I remembered before losing consciousness.
Which meant only one thing.
Someone had healed me.
That realization made the cold air of the room feel even heavier.
I slowly looked around.
The room was small and bare, built entirely from rough stone blocks that seemed older than the city above them. Thick iron bars formed one wall of the chamber, separating the cell from a dim corridor beyond it, while the rest of the space contained absolutely nothing.
No bed.
No blanket.
No furniture of any kind.
Only the stone floor beneath me and the stained walls surrounding it.
It was less a prison cell and more a forgotten dungeon that had been abandoned years ago.
A faint uneasiness settled in my chest.
My eyes dropped to my hands.
Then I noticed something else.
Everything I had been carrying was gone.
The sword I had taken from the cave.
The bag filled with potions.
Even the map.
All of it had disappeared.
I was left with nothing except the clothes I was wearing.
"…Great," I muttered quietly.
The word had barely left my mouth when the sound of footsteps echoed faintly through the corridor outside the cell.
They were slow and steady, the kind of footsteps that belonged to someone who had no reason to hurry.
My body immediately tensed.
The footsteps stopped just beyond the iron bars.
For a moment there was only silence.
Then a calm voice spoke.
"Ah… you're awake."
A chill ran down my spine.
I turned toward the bars.
Standing on the other side of the cell was a tall man wearing a long white coat that reached nearly to his boots. His short blond hair was neatly combed, and a pair of thin glasses rested lightly on the bridge of his nose as his sharp eyes observed me with quiet interest.
Even without the poster from the marketplace, I would have recognized him instantly.
Velmorth.
The man who had stabbed me.
He stood there calmly, studying me for a moment as if examining something curious rather than a prisoner he had nearly killed only hours earlier. Then his lips curved into a polite smile.
"Good afternoon," he said.
My hands slowly tightened into fists.
Velmorth tilted his head slightly as if considering something.
"Before we continue," he said in a calm voice, "it would be appropriate for us to introduce ourselves properly."
"My name is Velmorth,"
His gaze settled directly on mine.
"What is your name?"
The question hung quietly in the air between us.
For several seconds I didn't answer.
It wasn't because I wanted to hide it.
But hearing that question forced a memory forward that I didn't want to touch.
My name carried the weight of a life that had already ended.
Velmorth waited patiently, his expression remaining calm.
One second passed.
Then another.
Suddenly his arm moved.
His fist slammed into the iron bars with a loud metallic crash.
The sound echoed violently through the stone corridor, and the thick bars bent inward slightly from the impact.
My eyes widened.
Iron wasn't supposed to move like that.
Blood dripped from the skin of his knuckles where the metal had torn it open, but Velmorth didn't even seem to notice. A faint green glow appeared around his hand as he lifted it slightly, the soft light spreading across the wound like warm mist.
Within seconds the torn skin closed completely.
The blood vanished.
Velmorth flexed his fingers once, as if testing them, before lowering his hand again.
Then he looked back at me.
"Your name," he repeated quietly.
There was no smile on his face now.
Only a sharp, patient stare.
I hesitated for a moment longer before finally speaking.
"…Vein."
The word felt strangely heavy leaving my mouth.
Velmorth's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Your full name."
For a brief moment I considered staying silent again.
But something in his gaze made it clear that refusing him again would only make things worse.
"…Vein Alteir."
The name echoed softly inside the empty dungeon.
Velmorth studied me for a moment before giving a small nod.
"Good," he said.
A faint smile returned to his lips.
"Now we know each other."
He stepped closer to the cell door and unlocked it with a quiet click.
The iron gate creaked as it slowly swung open.
Velmorth stepped aside, leaving the corridor beyond completely unobstructed.
"Well then," he said calmly, gesturing toward the hallway, "how about I take you on a short walk?"
For a brief moment the offer almost sounded friendly.
But the instant the door opened—
I ran.
My body moved before my thoughts could catch up, my legs pushing forward as I sprinted past him and into the dim corridor beyond the cell. Stone hallways stretched in several directions, lined with iron doors and empty chambers that made the place look more like a forgotten underground prison than part of a city.
Behind me, Velmorth didn't move.
At least, not at first.
I glanced back for a moment while running.
He was still standing beside the open cell door.
Watching.
Then he laughed.
The sound echoed softly through the corridor.
"Ah…"
His voice carried easily through the stone halls.
"So you want to play."
He stepped forward slowly, his footsteps calm and unhurried.
"Hide and seek."
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Well then…"
His smile widened slightly.
"This will be very entertaining."
—
The corridor twisted ahead of me like a maze of damp stone and iron, each step echoing too loudly in the silence as I searched desperately for somewhere—anywhere—to hide. My mind raced faster than my feet, knowing that running blindly through this underground prison would only delay the inevitable.
Then I saw it.
One of the cells further down the corridor had its door slightly open.
Without thinking, I slipped inside.
The room was darker than the hallway, the light from outside barely reaching the back wall. I moved quickly toward the corner and crouched behind a large, uneven shape resting on the floor. From the shadows it looked like a chunk of broken stone that had fallen from the wall long ago.
I pressed myself tightly against it and held my breath.
A moment later, footsteps echoed through the corridor.
They moved slowly.
Unhurried.
The sound filled the hallway, each step calm and measured as it approached the cell where I was hiding.
I carefully peeked through the iron bars.
Velmorth walked past the entrance.
His posture was relaxed, his hands resting casually behind his back as if he were strolling through a garden instead of searching for a prisoner who had just escaped.
But what unsettled me most was his expression.
He was smiling.
Not with anger.
Not with irritation.
It was the kind of bright, delighted smile someone might wear when they were enjoying a game.
Like a child who had not been able to play for a very long time and had finally found a partner.
For a brief moment he paused outside the cell, glancing down the corridor ahead as though considering where to search next.
Then he continued walking.
His footsteps slowly faded into the distance.
Only when the sound had grown faint did I allow myself to breathe again.
I leaned back slightly against the object behind me, letting some of the tension drain from my body.
Then something felt… wrong.
The surface against my back was not as hard as stone should have been.
It felt slightly soft.
Uneven.
Confused, I shifted my position and looked down at what I had been hiding behind.
My breath caught in my throat.
It wasn't a rock.
It was a body.
The corpse looked nothing like a human. Its shape was distorted and uneven, as if its entire body had melted and then hardened into a grotesque form. The surface of its flesh sagged strangely, bulging in some places and collapsing inward in others.
It resembled a slime.
Or something that had once been one.
The creature's body was torn open in several places, and from one of the wounds something pale slowly wriggled outward.
Maggots.
My stomach lurched violently.
A scream rose in my throat.
I clamped my hand over my mouth just in time, forcing the sound back down before it could escape.
The smell hit me fully then—rot and decay, thick enough to make my eyes water.
The maggots continued crawling from the wound, disappearing back into the ruined flesh as they fed.
My breathing grew shallow as I tried desperately not to gag.
Then suddenly—
A hand touched my shoulder.
Warm fingers rested lightly against me.
My entire body froze.
A voice spoke from directly behind me.
Soft.
Almost cheerful.
"So," the voice said lightly, "how is my masterpiece?"
My heart nearly stopped.
"Do you like it?"
Slowly, my neck stiff with fear, I turned my head.
Velmorth stood behind me.
His glasses caught the faint light from the corridor, reflecting it in a thin glimmer that hid his eyes for a moment. But the smile on his face was perfectly visible.
Wide.
Proud.
Excited.
Like an artist presenting his finest work.
And suddenly I understood something terrifying.
He had never been searching for me.
He had been enjoying the game.
—
Velmorth's hand suddenly closed around my throat.
Before I could react, my feet lifted from the ground as he pushed me back against the cold stone wall. The air was forced violently from my lungs, and for a moment my vision blurred as I struggled to breathe.
My hands instinctively grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his fingers away, but it was useless. His grip didn't even shift.
He wasn't even trying.
With his free hand, Velmorth calmly reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small glass vial filled with pale blue liquid. The faint glow of the potion reflected off his glasses as he uncorked it.
"Open your mouth," he said casually.
I tried to resist.
It didn't matter.
The moment I gasped for air, he forced the vial against my lips and poured the liquid down my throat.
The taste was bitter and cold, spreading quickly through my body.
Within seconds the strength drained from my limbs.
My fingers loosened from his wrist. My arms fell uselessly to my sides as if the bones inside them had suddenly disappeared.
Velmorth released my throat.
My body collapsed forward, barely conscious as I struggled to remain upright.
"Relax," he said calmly, watching me with quiet interest. "It's only a sedative."
He adjusted the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.
"The dosage is low," he continued, his voice almost gentle. "So you won't fall asleep."
A faint smile returned to his lips.
"You'll stay awake."
Before I could react, he bent down and lifted me effortlessly over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing.
My body refused to respond.
My arms hung limp. My legs dragged uselessly as Velmorth began walking through the underground corridor.
Cells lined both sides of the stone hallway as we moved deeper into the prison.
Inside them were things that made my stomach twist.
Twisted bodies.
Monsters that looked half-melted.
Creatures whose limbs had been stitched together in ways that made no sense.
Some were already dead.
Others still moved weakly, their bodies trembling as if even breathing was painful.
Velmorth glanced casually toward one of the cells as he walked past it.
"Failures," he said lightly.
His tone sounded almost bored.
"I dislike looking at failed experiments."
His gaze shifted forward again.
"So I store them here."
At the far end of the corridor stood a single door.
Unlike the others, it was painted a deep crimson red.
Velmorth stopped in front of it.
For a moment he simply stared at the door, the faint smile on his face slowly widening.
"That," he said quietly, "is where my masterpiece resides."
The door creaked open slowly.
Velmorth stepped inside.
The room beyond was larger than the prison cells outside, illuminated by several lanterns hanging along the walls. Their dim light revealed a wide chamber filled with metal tables, broken tools, and strange containers filled with cloudy liquid.
Velmorth gently set me down against the wall, letting me sit while my body remained too weak to stand.
Then he stepped forward into the center of the room.
My eyes slowly lifted.
And what I saw made the blood in my veins run cold.
The creature in the middle of the chamber looked like something born from a nightmare.
Its body was long and thick like a giant serpent, dark scales covering parts of its twisting form as it lay coiled across the stone floor.
But the resemblance to a snake ended there.
From the sides of its massive body grew limbs that clearly did not belong to it.
Arms.
Legs.
Too many of them.
Some looked like the clawed limbs of monsters I had seen in the forest. Others looked disturbingly human, their fingers twitching weakly against the ground as if they were trying to move but didn't know how.
The creature's body shifted slowly, dragging itself across the stone floor like a wounded serpent while the mismatched limbs struggled uselessly along its sides.
Its head slowly lifted.
My stomach dropped.
The face was impossible to understand.
Part of it resembled the head of a serpent, covered in dark scales and stretched into long jaws. But the rest of its features were wrong—twisted and distorted as if several different creatures had been forced together.
One eye was larger than the other.
Its mouth opened unevenly.
Then it spoke.
The voice was weak.
Broken.
"…Save… me…"
The words crawled out of its throat like something dying.
My chest tightened.
Behind me, Velmorth chuckled softly.
A pleased sound.
Like an artist admiring his work.
"You see," he began calmly, stepping closer to the creature, "I have always been fascinated by the existence of beastmen."
His hand brushed lightly against the creature's scaled body.
"Humans with the traits of animals."
He turned his head slightly, looking back at me through the reflection of his glasses.
"But something always bothered me."
His smile widened slowly.
"Why only animals?"
His fingers traced across the monster's twisted limbs.
"Why are there no beastmen born from monsters?"
He looked back at his creation with unmistakable pride.
"So I decided to create one myself."
The creature trembled weakly beneath his touch.
Velmorth spread his arms slightly as if presenting a masterpiece.
"I will create my own beastmen," he said softly.
His eyes gleamed with excitement.
"From monsters."
—
Velmorth's quiet laughter echoed through the laboratory as he turned away from the grotesque creature in the center of the room. The lantern light flickered across the twisted body behind him, but his attention had already returned to me.
For a moment he simply looked down at me while still carrying my weakened body over his shoulder, as if deciding something.
Then he walked deeper into the room.
My limbs hung uselessly as the sedative still flowed through my veins, leaving my body heavy and unresponsive. Every attempt to move felt distant, like trying to control a body that no longer belonged to me.
In the center of the laboratory stood a heavy metal chair surrounded by strange instruments and glass containers filled with cloudy liquids. Dark stains covered parts of the metal.
Velmorth stopped in front of it.
Slowly, he lifted me from his shoulder and lowered my body onto the chair. The cold metal pressed against my back as I slumped helplessly.
Velmorth stepped back and examined me.
"And now," he said calmly, adjusting his glasses, "you will become one of my masterpieces."
A chill ran through my chest.
He pointed toward the far side of the laboratory where several iron cages stood against the wall. Inside one of them, something moved.
The moment I focused on it, I recognized the glowing red eyes.
A Nightbound Beast.
Its twisted body paced inside the cage, claws scraping against the iron bars as a low growl rumbled from its throat.
Velmorth smiled.
"How about that one?" he said lightly. "Yes… I think that would suit you perfectly."
He began to laugh, the sound slowly growing louder as it echoed through the laboratory.
"You see," he continued, "perfection requires improvement."
He walked toward the cage, brushing his fingers along the iron bars while the monster inside snarled at him.
Velmorth didn't even flinch.
Instead, he glanced back at me.
"Your body will become far more interesting," he said calmly. "Once I add a few new parts."
His laughter returned.
"Oh yes… you are going to become something truly magnificent."
Eventually the laughter faded as he continued observing the beast, tapping lightly on the cage while the creature slammed its claws against the bars.
To him, it was not a monster.
Only unfinished work.
The lantern light flickered across the laboratory, casting long shadows over the twisted remains of failed experiments.
My body remained still in the chair.
The sedative still numbed my limbs, leaving me barely able to move my fingers.
Across the room Velmorth hummed quietly while studying the beast.
"…Yes," he murmured. "This one should work nicely."
My vision slowly lowered to the floor.
My chest felt heavy.
Not from pain.
But from regret.
The old man appeared again in my memory.
Standing at the cave entrance.
Placing the spear in my hand.
His calm voice.
"When you finally see how cruel this world can be… my door will still be open."
At the time I had turned away.
Angry.
Proud.
I thought I could survive alone.
A weak breath escaped my lips.
"…I should have gone with him."
Now the truth was painfully clear.
If I had followed the old man…
If I had swallowed my pride…
I wouldn't be here.
Not in this underground nightmare.
Not in the hands of a madman who saw people as materials for experiments.
My fingers trembled weakly against the cold metal of the chair as Velmorth continued preparing whatever he planned to do next.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
I truly understood how close I was to dying again.