Outside, the bald researcher glanced at the monitor.
"Oh?"
His eyebrows rose slightly.
"Interesting. Her readings are increasing."
He adjusted his glasses and leaned closer to the screen.
"Keep the concentration steady. I want to see how far she can go."
The young researcher nodded nervously.
Meanwhile, Lilia continued to struggle inside the glass tube, her tiny hands pressed against the cold surface.
But she wasn’t the only child in the room.
The laboratory was enormous, with cold metal walls and a high ceiling covered in pipes and cables. Bright white lights hung overhead, illuminating every corner of the room.
Rows of glass tubes stood on both sides of the laboratory. Each one was filled with thick green liquid, and inside them were children of different ages.
Some looked no older than five, while others appeared to be teenagers.
They floated silently inside their containers, their eyes closed and their bodies motionless.
Numbers and strange symbols flashed across the small screens attached to each tube. Thick pipes carried the green liquid through the walls, while machines hummed continuously in the background.
There were no windows.
No decorations.
Nothing that made the place feel like a room meant for living beings.
It was a place built for experiments.
And the children inside those tubes were nothing more than test subjects to the people working there.
The bald researcher walked past the rows of containers, checking the numbers on each screen.
"Subject 087... no improvement."
He moved to the next tube.
"Subject 091... mana absorption has stopped."
He shook his head in disappointment.
"Another failure."
The young researcher followed behind him, holding a thick stack of reports.
"Sir, should we transfer the failed subjects to the disposal unit?"
"Of course. There’s no reason to waste resources on them."
He said it as casually as someone ordering lunch.
The young researcher lowered his head.
"Understood."
After checking several more tubes, the bald man finally stopped in the center of the laboratory.
Unlike the surrounding containers, this area was almost completely empty.
A large, circular platform stood in the middle of the floor, surrounded by metal pillars and thick cables. Strange symbols had been carved into its surface, glowing faintly beneath the harsh white lights.
And above the platform...
There was a single container.
It was much smaller than the children’s tubes, made from ordinary-looking metal and thick glass. Unlike the others, it had no pipes carrying green liquid into it.
Inside rested a strange purple egg.
It was about the size of a human head, with a smooth surface covered in thin, glowing lines. Those lines slowly shifted across its shell, forming patterns that disappeared almost as soon as they appeared.
The egg rested on a simple metal stand.
There were no golden decorations, no expensive equipment, and no grand display surrounding it.
Yet every machine in the laboratory seemed to be connected to that small container.
Thick cables ran from the platform toward the walls, while several screens displayed strange readings that even the young researcher struggled to understand.
The bald man stopped in front of it.
For the first time since entering the laboratory, the indifferent expression on his face changed.
He stared at the purple egg with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
"Any changes?"
The young researcher quickly checked his reports.
"No, sir. Its condition remains the same. We’ve detected no movement for the past three days."
The bald man frowned.
"Three days..."
He placed one hand against the glass container.
"How much longer are you going to make us wait?"
The purple egg remained completely still.
Back in the dim, stone-walled prison cell, the heavy, oppressive silence is broken only by the sound of a cold blade resting against skin.
?The prison officer holds the dagger steady, his eyes locked onto Wren’s face, waiting for an explanation that could mean the difference between life and death.
?But Wren can’t speak. He can’t even move his jaw.
?What the hell is this guy talking about? Wren screams internally, his mind racing wildly beneath his paralyzed shell. I just woke up! I haven’t talked to any Faction Heads!
The officer’s eyes narrowed.
"Not planning to answer me?"
He pressed the dagger a little harder against Wren’s chest.
A thin line of blood trickled down his skin.
Wren’s golden eyes widened.
Are you insane?! I literally can’t move!
He tried to speak, but his jaw refused to cooperate. All he could do was stare at the officer with a mixture of confusion and barely contained fury.
The officer clicked his tongue.
"Fine. If you want to play dumb, we’ll do this the hard way."
He pulled the dagger away and straightened up, his expression growing colder.
?"Consider this a strict warning, Wren. If I hear even a whisper of you pulling another stunt like this—or if anyone else gets dragged into your mess..." the officer whispers, his voice dripping with venom.
?He slowly pulls the dagger back, sheathing it on his belt with a sharp click.
?"...You won’t survive the next round."
?With that final, chilling threat, the officer turns on his heel and strides toward the cell door, shaking his head in disgust. "I don’t know what kind of pathetic game you’re playing to escape your miserable reality. Death must have looked pretty sweet to you, huh? Is that why you deliberately challenged Hudson—just looking for an easy way out?"
?Wren lies paralyzed on the floor, his mind spinning. An easy way out... of life? What is this lunatic talking about?!
?"Trying to find an exit in a place like this... what a pathetic joke," the officer mutters over his shoulder as he steps out.
?The heavy iron door slams shut behind him, echoing loudly through the stone cell.
?The moment the guards leave, the shadows in the corner flicker violently. Envy materializes out of thin air and drifts down toward Wren.
?Usually, the spectral owl is overflowing with mockery, snark, or smug laughter. But right now, Envy’s face is completely devoid of humor. Its golden eyes are carved out of pure ice, dead serious.
?"Wren," the owl says, its voice dropping to a rare, grim tone. "I need to talk to you about something important."