Yet, that was just the beginning.
Caleb raised his hand again, weaving through the genetic code with precise intent.
He targeted the COL1A1 gene, disrupting the delicate balance of collagen production.
The Baron gasped as his joints began to ache, his bones creaking ominously. A slow, creeping realization dawned—this wasn't just pain. This was the beginning of something far worse.
"I could stop here," Caleb murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "But you brought this on yourself."
With a final gesture, he tampered with the HTT gene, introducing a cascade of neurological disruption.
The man's limbs spasmed uncontrollably, his eyes darting wildly as his brain struggled to process the chaos. His breaths came in ragged gasps, a mix of fear and agony consuming him.
And in the midst of all this chaos and madness consuming the Baron, no one had shown up to find out what was happening.
Caleb stepped closer, his shadow looming over the writhing figure, drool dripping from his twitching lips.
"This isn't just punishment," he said, crouching to meet the man's teary gaze. "It's a lesson. One your body will never let you forget."
As Caleb stood, the glow in his hands faded, leaving behind the still air of his aftermath.
His victim lay on the ground, a broken shell of the arrogant figure who had gone unchallenged for too long.
A prompt from his system confirmed the success of his quest and he smiled.
"You'll live," Caleb called over his shoulder as he walked away, his voice devoid of emotion. "But every step, every breath, will remind you of me."
With another rumble of the thunderstorm, Caleb disappeared. The Baron lay on the ground writhing in pain, his body now his own worst enemy.
"H-he-l-help," the Baron wheezed but he could barely hear the sound of his own voice. Veins protruded from his body, and his expression quickly grew pale and almost lifeless.
After several minutes of struggling, Ezekiel crawled forward to the door and attempted to open it, but his hands could barely reach the doorknob.
'Help me, somebody!'
Eventually, the Baron passed out from the agony wreaking havoc through his body. There were no gaps for relief and the pain only got worse as time passed.
...….
The next day
The thunderstorm had passed and the fresh fragrant nature promised a day filled with a sense of adventure.
But not everyone had it the same as in the household of Baron Zeke, a new storm was brewing, one that would send waves across the kingdom and beyond.
"Darling?"
Nora, the first and head wife of the Baron called out softly, her steps calm and graceful as she made her way to her husband's office.
She was a woman with dark curly hair cascading behind her and had auburn eyes. Breakfast was ready, yet when she went to his room, she did not find the Baron.
When Nora attempted to open the door, she felt some form of resistance. Furrowing her brows, she called again.
"Ezekiel, it's me."
She tried pushing again and still felt the door hitting something, so she leaned in to listen for any activity.
'Hmph! He better not be with anyone in there.' Nora snorted, but then she heard a faint sound like a groan.
Concern etched itself into Nora's features as she pressed her ear against the wooden door, straining to catch another sound. The groan came again, faint but unmistakable, sending a chill down her spine.
"Ezekiel?" she called, her voice louder now, urgency replacing her earlier irritation.
This time, she pushed harder against the door, her strength barely budging it past the resistance.
Gritting her teeth, she took a step back and rammed her shoulder against the heavy oak, forcing it open just enough to slip inside.
What she saw stopped her heart.
Ezekiel, the mighty Baron Zeke, lay slumped just behind the door, his body contorted unnaturally.
His usually commanding presence was replaced by a frail, broken man gasping for breath.
His skin was pale, and his hands trembled as they clutched at his chest. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, and his eyes were unfocused and distant.
"Ezekiel!" Nora rushed to his side, dropping to her knees as she tried to steady him. "What's wrong? What happened?"
The Baron opened his mouth to speak, but only a strangled groan escaped. Nora's gaze darted around the room, searching for a clue, something—anything—that could explain his condition.
Her eyes fell on the overturned goblet near the edge of the desk, its contents spilt across a pile of documents.
'Poison?' she thought but then shook her head.
It didn't seem likely. This wasn't the rapid demise of a toxin—it was something else, something slower and far more insidious.
The way the Baron continued to twitch in her arms made it evident.
"Hold on," she whispered, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain calm. "I'll get help. You'll be fine."
But as she started to rise, the Baron's hand shot out, gripping her wrist with surprising strength. His lips moved again, this time managing a single, hoarse word:
"Caleb."
Nora narrowed her eyes as she had never heard of that name before. But if the Baron mentioned it, then someone in this household should at least know something.
"Wait for me. I'll get the guards," she said and quickly left. I'll also get the healers."
Sometime later, Baron Zeke lay in his bed, and his body would spasm occasionally. It had only been a few minutes since Nora found him in that state, yet the Baron had already become thin and weak.
"How's he?" Nora asked the healer of the house. But the old man, Collins, shook his head, a hint of dread in his eyes.
"Nothing," said Collins. In all his years as the healer, he had never encountered something so strange—so bizarre.
"My diagnosis spells didn't find any trace of poison or anything along those lines. Yet, he looks to be in constant pain, his bones have turned fragile and his psychological state looks to have regressed."
Collins gulped, "His body is also demanding nutrients and I'm not sure what he needs it for. It's like some sorcery or demonic magic."
"Demonic magic?"
Amara, another one of the Baron's wives asked, her face a blend of fear and anxiety.
She looked between her husband and the healer, wishing his words were mere jokes, but the old man was not smiling.
"Like I said before, my lady. I'm not sure," Collins bowed in apology. He felt like a failure as he could do nothing but watch his lord suffer in agony.
"My lady, the guild master is here," a voice resounded from the door as the commander of the guards appeared, his hand on the hilt of his sword tied to his waist.
"Thank you, Silas."
Nora and the others exchanged glances and then motioned for Silas to lead the way.
'Whoever this Caleb person is, he will pay dearly,' the Baroness vowed silently.