In the dim, oppressive silence of a cold, windowless chamber, a faint green glow pulsed from large glass pods filled with viscous liquid. The eerie light illuminated the sterile room, casting long shadows that danced along the walls. At the center of the room sat a figure in a wheelchair, pale as death itself. His skin, like porcelain, almost translucent under the sickly light, was framed by lifeless, snow-white hair. His dark, hollow eyes stared vacantly into the void, as if they had long forgotten how to feel.
He looked no older than twenty, but his frail body told a different story—a body not weakened by age, but by something far worse. He seemed more like a shell, emptied of life, yet something about him hinted at the unknown power trapped within.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
The door creaked open, and a man strode in. He was middle-aged, with deep-set eyes that bore dark circles, the kind that came from countless sleepless nights. His complexion was dark, his expression hardened by frustration, but his presence radiated control. This was a man used to command. Yet beneath that, there was something else: desperation.
"Experiment #3892... failure again," the man muttered, his voice low and tense. "Why? Why can't I get it right? All the variables—perfectly accounted for. The preparations were flawless!"
His frustration deepened as he glared at the motionless figure in the wheelchair.
"Why can't I clone you, Alypos?" His voice grew hoarse, thick with fury. "Tell me, why?!"
Alypos remained silent. His name, strange and unfamiliar, hung in the air like a forgotten memory. No response, no movement. The middle-aged man clenched his fists, his face twisting with rage. He stormed over, the tension in his body palpable, and without warning, he lashed out. His fists collided with Alypos' face, a sickening thud echoing in the room. The frail figure remained still, offering no resistance, no reaction. Blood sprayed onto the cold floor—but not red. It was green, like the liquid in the pods.
The scientist stomped on Alypos's legs, his fists raining down blow after blow. For ten minutes, the room echoed with violence and hatred, but Alypos remained as lifeless as ever, his face an empty canvas, devoid of any sign of pain.
Finally, panting and trembling, the man stopped, his anger spent. He spat on the broken figure before him. But then, something extraordinary happened. Alypos's mangled body began to heal. Flesh knitted itself back together, bruises faded, and bones cracked back into place with unsettling speed. Within moments, he was whole again. Still as hollow as before.
The scientist's lips curled into a twisted smile. He fetched a new wheelchair from the corner, clearly prepared for this, and placed Alypos in it, handling him with a strange mixture of care and practiced familiarity. It wasn't the first time this had happened.
Outside Base T7890
Beyond the walls of the Federation's T7890 base, twenty figures cloaked in black stood in the shadows. They wore masks of pure white, expressionless and cold, each one armed differently—guns, swords, spears, hammers, and more. They were silent, save for one, a tall figure gripping a staff.
"Operation C-L01 is a go," the leader spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Gear check."
"All present, Captain," a masked figure replied, their shield gleaming under the faint moonlight.
They moved swiftly and silently, navigating the base's perimeter. It was fortified with state-of-the-art security—guards armed with guns and communication devices patrolled in shifts, reporting their positions every five minutes. But the cloaked figures moved unseen, a shroud of magic rendering them invisible.
"We've got ten minutes before the spell wears off," the captain warned. Their pace quickened as they neared their objective.
At the entrance to a heavily guarded room, five soldiers in gleaming metal armor stood watch, their presence unmistakable. These were no ordinary guards—the air around them was thick with an oppressive energy, their very stance exuding authority. They were here to protect Alypos.
The door to the room slid open, and a man emerged—James, the chief scientist. The guards straightened and saluted him with respect.
"Everything running smoothly, sir?" asked one guard, his twin swords strapped across his back.
James nodded absently. "Yes, all is well," he replied, though his expression was strained. Before he could take another step, the head guard's eyes narrowed, sensing something off.
"They've spotted us," whispered one of the cloaked figures, gripping a giant hammer.
"Who are you?!" the head guard roared, his aura bursting forth, an overwhelming force that weighed on everyone around him. "S-rank…" one of the cloaked figures muttered, their confidence faltering. "The intel was wrong."
But their captain stepped forward, her own aura swelling to meet the head guard's challenge. The air crackled with tension as their energies collided.
"An S-rank magician," the guard growled, slightly unsettled. "Who sent you?"
His aura surged again, but the cloaked figures stood their ground. As the guards prepared for combat, the captain issued her orders, sharp and clear.
"Ten of you, stay here and hold them off. The rest—get inside and secure the target!"
Nine figures slipped past the conflict, charging into the room. Inside, the green-lit pods cast eerie reflections off the sterile metal. Alypos sat still, but next to him stood James, trembling, a small key clutched in his hand. His eyes were wide with fear.
"Don't move!" he shrieked. "I'll release his seal!"
The cloaked figures halted. They knew what he meant. The seal on Alypos was of the highest rank, an SS-class enchantment, designed to suppress his latent abilities. If released, no one could predict the chaos that would follow.
"We're not here to harm you, James," one of the figures said, voice calm but urgent. "We'll take you and Alypos to a better place. You won't be a prisoner here any longer."
James hesitated, his resolve wavering. For years, he had been a pawn—his genius used, his family held hostage by the Federation. Every discovery, every experiment, fueled their power. But freedom… Was that even possible?
His eyes flickered with doubt, then madness.
"HA! A better place?" He laughed, bitter and broken. "There's no escape from this. I've lived my life as a slave, but I'll choose my death."
Without warning, he jammed the key into the back of Alypos's neck, twisting it. The seal shattered with a deafening crack.
"No! Stop him!" one of the figures shouted, but it was too late.
Alypos stirred. For the first time in years, his lips curled into a smile. His dark eyes glittered with something ancient, something terrifying.
"I'm free," he whispered, his voice hoarse yet filled with chilling resolve.
And the room trembled.