Nodding my head in approval, I let a small smile slip onto my face. Watching the five healers eagerly dissect and point out every organ, explaining their functions with growing confidence, gave me a strange satisfaction. They weren't hesitant anymore, not even queasy—their voices carried certainty as they spoke, as though they were reciting truths they had known all their lives. It impressed me, honestly. Only two hours had passed, and yet they had absorbed the knowledge as if it were etched into their bones. Fast learners… I could use more people like them.
"Ma'am, I am still a bit confused about how this process will help us heal people." One of the healers finally asked, her brow creasing. Her voice was timid, but the question was genuine.
I folded my arms, tilting my head. "It will make you understand where to start healing and how each organ actually looks inside the body. For example, before this, you might have focused on stopping external bleeding first, then moved inward, right?" I let my gaze sweep across their faces, watching them nod slowly. "Well, now you know that's not always the priority. Stopping blood loss is important, yes—but what if a sword punctures a lung? What matters more—the wound itself or the lung?"
The same healer bit her lip before answering, almost hesitant. "The lung." Then her eyes widened as the realization hit her. She nodded quickly. "Thank you, Ma'am."
I gave a small grin. "No problem. Remember, visualization is just as important as channeling magic. If you can see the structure in your mind, you can target your spells more precisely." My eyes narrowed slightly, testing their resolve. "Will you stay for the torture side of the training as well?"
"No, I am fine," one answered immediately.
"Same here," another added, shaking her head.
"Yeah, I'm done for the night," the third muttered, looking pale now that the topic shifted.
But two of them didn't back away. "I will stay," one said firmly. "I think I'll learn more… and maybe we can help if needed."
"I will also stay," the other added without hesitation.
"Cool," I said, my smile sharpening into something more dangerous. "You two will be a great help."
Satisfied, I turned and began dragging a few of the corpses into better positions, arranging them almost artistically to give the room a more gruesome, eerie edge. Shadows from the torchlight clung to the walls like smoke, highlighting the unnatural poses. The smell of blood thickened in the air, metallic and suffocating. By the time I stepped back, it looked like something out of a nightmare—and that was precisely the effect I wanted.
When I was done, I walked over to Trinity. "Can you tell your men to bring the rest of the captured soldiers here? Except the vice-captain and the commander. I have… something planned for them. I want to talk to the vice-captain first."
Her eyebrow lifted. "I can do that. But why the vice-captain specifically?"
"You'll see," I said, smirking. "She's far more interesting than you think."
Trinity studied me a moment longer, suspicion flickering in her eyes, but she eventually shrugged. "Okay. Follow me. Luckily, the commander is in the same wing as his vice-captain." She started down the hallway.
My mother moved to my side, her steps unhurried, her presence steadying. "Why did you say she's more interesting than we think?" she asked, voice soft but probing.
"It's an assumption," I admitted, my grin widening. "But I think it's because of her that we didn't see the attack coming."
Mom frowned. "But she's only a Puppeteer."
"Maybe so. But she's also a demi-human—and the federation despises demi-humans. Yet somehow, she's still a vice-captain. Why is that?" I said, smiling with teeth.
Mom hummed thoughtfully. "If you say so. Either way, I'm leaving it to you."
"Don't worry. I'll get plenty of information out of them," I said, the smirk curling across my face turning sharper, darker.
Trinity stopped in front of a heavy metal door. "Here we are. Both individuals are inside, but they are in separate cells. She unlocked it and pushed it open.
The commander's voice cut through immediately, echoing from the right cell. "Ah, you finally arrived! You won't get anything out of me. Haha!" His tone was dripping with confidence, the kind born from sheer arrogance and blind loyalty.
I chuckled lowly, eyes glinting. "Haha… I can't wait to break you."
"Hah! As if you could break me," he shot back, smirking proudly even through the bars.
"Yeah, you think so? Sadly, I can't start with you." I let my voice dip into mock disappointment, feigning sadness.
"Go ahead then," he sneered. "She doesn't know anything anyway."
"It doesn't matter," I replied coldly. Raising a hand, I conjured an ice wall that sealed his vision from the other cell. Then I walked across to the opposite side.
Inside, sitting perfectly still with her legs folded beneath her, was a young woman. A demi-dog. Her eyes were closed, her posture tense but controlled. Something in me tightened at the sight. I sighed under my breath. "It's worse than I thought," I muttered.
"Analyst," I whispered in my mind.
Status flared into view.
Name: Apricot
Age: 20
Race: Demi-dog
Bloodline: Demi-dog
Gender: Female
Level: 463
Class: Puppeteer (Rare) (Slave)
A rare class… but shackled under the word 'slave.' My jaw clenched.
"Can you open the door? I want to go inside," I said, glancing at Trinity.
She shook her head instantly. "Not happening. She's stronger than you."
"I don't think she'll attack me," I countered.
"I don't—" Trinity started, but Mom cut her off.
"Open it," Mom said firmly. Her gaze flicked to me knowingly. "I think I know what you're trying to do, Kitsuna. But remember—we can't trust her easily." She didn't wait for Trinity's permission. She simply took the keys and unlocked the door herself.
"I know, I know. "Thank you," I said, stepping in. As soon as I crossed the threshold, I raised another ice wall behind me, sealing us in.
For the first time, Apricot opened her eyes. They were guarded, confused, but sharp. "Did you not hear him? I am no use to you," she said flatly. Her voice was void of emotion, mechanical.
I ignored her and walked closer. Her body told a different story—ears laid flat, tail limp and ragged, her whole form screaming exhaustion. Her right ear had been cut in half, her tail patchy with scars. Filth clung to her fur, masking its true color.
"You aren't useless," I said quietly, circling her like a predator. "You were vice-captain of the attack squad, weren't you?"
"Hmph. "That doesn't mean anything," she muttered, her chin dropping again.
I stepped closer, reaching out to place my hand gently on her head. The reaction was instant—she shivered violently, her body trembling under my touch. My brows furrowed.
"Why are you shivering like that?" I asked, crouching down to meet her eyes. Her eyes flickered and shook, unable to meet mine.
I pulled my hand back slowly, sighing. "So they did something to you, didn't they?"
She didn't answer. The silence was heavy, pressing.
I sat back, thinking. Torture wasn't the plan—not yet. But I needed her to speak, needed her to trust me enough to reveal something. After a moment, an idea clicked.
"Okay, I get it. You would rather not talk. Let's get you cleaned up first," I said, standing. Walking to a corner, I summoned an ice block and hollowed it with a swipe of my claws. Pressing my hand to it, I poured fire into the center until water filled the improvised tub, steam curling upward.
"There. That should do." I turned back toward her. She immediately shifted backward, eyes wide.
"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to wash you. Then we can talk again," I said, stepping forward and scooping her into my arms despite her weak struggles.
"No! Let me go!" she cried, thrashing. But she didn't have the strength to resist.
"It might be a bit cold—sorry," I warned and dropped her gently into the water.
Her head popped up immediately. "COLD!?" she shouted, sputtering. She tried to climb out, but I pushed her back down.
"Stay! You're filthy," I snapped, grabbing at her clothes and undressing her without hesitation.
[Ten minutes later]
I rubbed at my face, heat rising in my cheeks. 'That felt wrong in so many ways…' My embarrassment simmered, but anger quickly smothered it. I couldn't stop replaying the scars etched into her skin. Not the proud, jagged marks of a soldier, but the cruel, deliberate cuts of abuse. Fresh ones crisscrossed older wounds. My killing intent leaked out before I forced myself to rein it back in.
At least she was clean now. Her fur was light brown, her features striking—close to Kayda's level of beauty, though different in spirit.
"Who gave you those scars?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
She lowered her gaze. "I got them in fights," she said dully.
"Fights for your body?" I pressed. Her stiffening told me enough. I exhaled slowly. "Some are fresh. And most are on your back. I think I already know who did this."
She stayed silent.
"You can't speak against your master, can you?" I said, my voice softening. "It's fine. I won't ask again."
"…Thank you," she whispered, barely audible.
"Don't worry about it," I said. Reaching forward, I gently tipped her chin up. "But I do have another question."
She blinked warily. "Yes?"
"Can I remove your contacts? I want to see your real eyes."
Her body jerked, panic flashing. "No… you'll be weirded out."
I barked out a laugh. "Weirded out? Have you seen mine?" With a quick motion, I held her still and removed the thin lenses. My breath caught.
Her eyes… Her eyes were radiant. A swirl of neon colors spun endlessly, like twin rainbows condensed into orbs. Beautiful, mesmerizing. Illusionist's Eyes.
"I can't believe it… "Illusionist's Eyes," I muttered. "One of the most powerful gifts in this world."
Apricot stiffened, uncertain how I'd react.
I scowled—not at her, but at fate itself. "This is so unfair. Why do I get terrifying eyes when you get something this beautiful?"
She blinked, then let out a small chuckle.
I pouted, crossing my arms. "Don't laugh at me."
"No, it's just… You looked so childish just now," she said, covering her mouth to hide her smile.
"Ooh, so I made you smile, little doggie," I teased, pulling her hands down.
"Hey! How are you so strong?" she demanded it, pulling back.
I smirked. "Strong? Nah. You're way stronger than me. The only reason I can handle you right now is because of the suppressors on your wrists and ankles… because I frozen some of your muscles earlier. Just enough to tilt the scales."
Her eyes widened faintly. "I see… Why are you being kind to me?"
"Hmm…" I tilted my head. "Because you've suffered enough. And I want to free you."
Her voice trembled. "Free me? You can't do that…"
"Not fully, no," I admitted. "You're a federation soldier. Slave or not, that's how they'll see you. But I can make you our slave instead of his." I jerked my chin toward the ice wall where the commander sat.
Her face fell. "I'll still be a slave. What's the difference?"
"Until my mother trusts you, yes," I said honestly. Then I stood, extending my hand to her. "But it will be better than what you have now. So… what do you say? Will you join me?"