"What exactly—do you mean by that?" Jinn narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping into his tone as he watched Amaron.
"Don't worry!" Amaron replied, raising his hands slightly in a lighthearted manner.
"I promise—no harm will come to you," his tone was oddly cheerful, too positive for the situation.
Jinn eyed him cautiously.
But as he observed how Amaron ordered the medics around—how they responded with fearful efficiency, and how one of them visibly flinched when spoken to—he started to get the sense that this man, despite his odd behavior, actually knew what he was doing.
*click! *click! *click! *beep!
Amaron continued to calibrate the large machine beside him, his metallic fingers moving with fluid speed, clicking and spinning dials as strange lights blinked along its surface.
Around the room, medics worked diligently, opening odd-looking containers filled with strange liquids and tools.
Some of the fluids glowed faintly, others bubbled or emitted wisps of vapor as the containers were unsealed.
Everything in that room was preparing for something big—something that would be done to Jinn.
After a few moments, the medics also began configuring several other machines.
Their fingers danced across multiple screens, tapping and swiping across glowing projections as lines of numbers and symbols scrolled down.
Jinn tried to follow, but most of it went beyond his understanding.
"I don't know what they're doing," Jinn muttered under his breath, "but they seem to be good at it."
"But of course!" Amaron suddenly declared, having heard him despite the low volume.
"Each and every person in this room is an expert in their own craft—sponsored by the great House of Sorellia!" His voice carried a bit of pride, despite him not including himself in the statement.
"Well, except for me—I was kidnapped and enslaved by Venedix and forced to work for her—for exactly 897 years!" Amaron said nonchalantly as if it were just another Tuesday.
"Wait, then you're a slave? Like me?" Jinn raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback.
Amaron chuckled, his jaw letting off a soft hiss of steam. "Well, yes—and no."
His many fingers continued to manipulate the control panel of a machine.
"But that's a story for another time."
Eventually, one of the medics retrieved a small container from a metallic cabinet.
It made a subtle hiss! as it opened, revealing multiple glass vials neatly arranged in rows.
Inside each vial was a glowing blue fluid, illuminating the darkened room with a cold light.
Without wasting time, the medic went to each machine, injecting the fluid into designated ports.
As soon as it entered, the machines began to hum with life,
*whirrrr!
lights flickering on and mechanisms spinning up with low mechanical whirs.
The medic inspected each machine after the injection, making short notes on a chart.
"NeuroLink fluid successfully administered to the machines, Master Amaron," the medic reported, then walked over toward Jinn.
Jinn's body tensed up immediately.
He instinctively glared at the man approaching him and asked, "What are you trying to do now?"
His muscles stiffened, ready to pull back if needed.
The medic looked briefly at Amaron for approval, then replied calmly, "It's best not to move, child—I am merely following Master Amaron's instructions," he said while gently extending a hand to inspect Jinn's injured eye.
Jinn winced, gritting his teeth as the medic prodded his eyelids open.
From his coat pocket, the medic retrieved a small cylindrical stick that emitted a focused beam of light.
He shined it into Jinn's injured eye, carefully observing the pupil's reaction.
After a few moments, he turned off the light and began scribbling notes on the chart.
"Eye must be replaced… size… model…" he mumbled before turning his head toward Amaron, still calibrating the large machine beside the operating table.
"What model shall be used for the eye, Master Amaron?"
"Hmm…" Amaron paused for a moment, his mechanical eyes glowing a faint blue as he scanned Jinn's face from across the room.
"Get him the latest model—the Sivithar Cv43. Military grade, please."
The medic paused, startled.
"Latest model, sir? And military grade? Isn't that reserved for—"
"Stop asking questions and do what I tell you," Amaron snapped, steam escaping his jaw again.
A second later, one of the machines emitted a ding! and turned green.
"My apologies," the medic replied quickly, bowing his head.
"And what model will be used for the arm?"
Amaron leaned back for a moment, thinking.
But this time, he looked directly at Jinn.
"You tell me, little Jinn. Which do you prefer—guns or swords?" His tone was playful, yet serious beneath it.
Jinn blinked.
He thought of Nevi's old stories, of warriors and legendary swordsmen.
"I've always admired warriors who used swords…" he mumbled, then met Amaron's eyes with certainty.
"Swords. I prefer swords."
Amaron nodded.
"Very well," then turned to the medic.
"Bring me a model of Xcalibrun—uncalibrated."
The medic said nothing this time.
He simply nodded and walked to the far side of the room, entering a storage area filled with synthetic limbs.
Arms, legs, and entire torsos were lined up like tools in a workshop.
He opened one case and pulled out a sleek black arm, glowing faintly with flickers of blue energy that crackled like lightning.
Jinn squinted to get a better look at it from afar.
The design was elegant and dangerous.
Still, doubt lingered in his mind.
"Why are you doing all this for me?" he asked softly.
"Aren't I just a slave?"
Amaron scanned the room—then leaned in and whispered.
"Because you're no ordinary slave, little Jinn. You were meant to be Venedix's vassal… but you proved stubborn."
With a quiet click, Amaron switched on the overhead light, shining it directly onto the operating table.
"And that's the strange thing," he continued.
"Venedix hasn't chosen a vassal in hundreds of years."
He looked Jinn in the eye.
"She must've seen something special in you."
"But I'm just… a normal kid," Jinn murmured.
"I don't have training. I'm just an orphan. Abandoned."
Amaron chuckled lightly. "Specialty doesn't come from your past or strength."
He pressed one metallic finger gently against Jinn's chest.
"Sometimes… it comes from here."
===
After some time, Amaron finally finished calibrating the machine.
The screens on its surface spun with swirling data, the glowing holograms displaying lines of code and analysis far too fast for anyone but Amaron to read.
Numbers, vitals, and graphs danced around like fireflies as the final calibration beeped to completion.
He walked from station to station, inspecting every machine the medics had worked on, muttering to himself.
"Check… this one's good too… all within threshold…"
He reviewed the dosage inputs, data feeds, and synch values one by one until the room was filled only with soft mechanical whirring and the occasional flick of paper or switch.
Once everything was verified, he clapped his metal hands together.
*clang!
"Alright—all calibrations are set.
Connect each tube of the NeuroLink machines toward the Krelonpholos."
Jinn blinked at the strange word.
"Krelonpholos?" he muttered under his breath, trying to place which machine Amaron was referring to.
Then it hit him—it was the massive machine Amaron had personally been working on all this time.
The medics obeyed at once, pulling thick transparent tubes from each NeuroLink device and snapping them into place along the base of the Krelonpholos.
*click! *hiss! *click! *hiss! *click! *hiss!
With each click, the machine hissed and glowed brighter.
"All NeuroLink tubes connected," one medic confirmed, giving a thumbs up as the last seal clicked into place.
Another medic approached the operating table, wheeling a tray covered with odd tools and materials Jinn couldn't begin to recognize.
Some were sharp, others were tube-like, and a few just looked like mechanical claws.
Jinn glanced at the tray, his stomach twisting slightly.
"You ready, little Jinn?" Amaron asked, adjusting the light over the table so that it glared straight down onto his chest.
"What do you think?" Jinn replied sarcastically, leaning back, trying to hide the tension in his voice. But deep inside, unease bubbled quietly.
"Alright. I'll inject you with a sedating fluid—you won't feel a thing."
Amaron held the syringe in one hand, already filled with a slightly glowing substance. He raised an eyebrow.
"Shall I proceed?"
Jinn stared at it for a moment, then exhaled through his nose.
"Just get it done already."
Amaron chuckled, shaking his head.
"You and Venedix both have the same snarky tongue."
With gentle precision, he pressed the syringe to Jinn's neck.
A soft
*hiss!
escaped as the fluid entered his bloodstream.
The effect was almost immediate.
Jinn's vision blurred, the ceiling overhead began to swim, and the outlines of lights turned into soft blobs.
The last thing he saw was Amaron, now focused on the synthetic arm—sparks of energy crackling around it as he fine-tuned the settings.
Then Amaron turned to Jinn and smiled faintly.
"Sweet dreams. When you wake up, you'll be reborn."
Darkness swallowed Jinn's vision completely.
But before the operation could proceed, the chamber doors suddenly hissed open with a sharp
*shhhhtk!
The sound cut through the silence like a blade.
Amaron turned sharply, steam hissing from his jaw in irritation.
"Who the hell dares to interrupt our—" he froze mid-sentence.
His voice lowered to a whisper.
"Oh…"
Crimson hair shimmered under the sterile light.
Two swords clanked against their scabbards with each step as Venedix walked into the room with measured grace, her presence casting a heavy silence over everyone.
"H-Hail Venedix!" the medics shouted in unison, saluting quickly, their fear evident in their trembling hands.
Without a word, she handed Amaron a synthetic arm—one she carried herself.
Her eyes flicked down to the sleek, military-grade synthetic arm Amaron had been preparing.
Her expression twisted with disappointment.
"Fool," she said coldly.
"How can the boy grow if you give him power at the start?"
Her gaze bored into him like a blade.
Amaron flinched, steam puffing from his jaw vents.
He stared at the arm she gave him. "
W-What the hell is this junk?" he blurted out, unable to hide his frustration.
The arm was dented and scratched, some of its outer armor falling apart, one of the servos loose.
"You'll attach this to him, as per my order," Venedix said, her voice like frost.
"Refuse, and you—along with every medic in this room—will die by my blades."
Her presence grew heavier.
The air in the room thickened.
Several of the medics were visibly shaking, some barely able to stand straight.
Amaron clenched his fists.
Anger now fought with fear in his mechanical body.
"Do you want him to die in the slave rituals? This arm won't last! It won't do anything for him!"
"Then he shall die," Venedix answered plainly.
Her tone had no anger.
Just certainty.
"And I will have been wrong to believe there was greatness in him."
She dropped the arm onto the metal table beside Amaron with a
*CLANG!
then turned sharply.
Her crimson cape swirled behind her as she exited the room, leaving behind only silence and dread.
The medics said nothing.
No one moved.
Amaron stared at the damaged arm, his eyes slowly glowing blue as he began inspecting it.
"No energy tanks… no integrated servos… no enhancements…" he muttered.
"This is just a regular synthetic arm… not even a good one."
Still, it could connect to the NeuroLink.
"...Fine," he said softly.
Without another word, he deployed a multi-tool from his own arm.
Small drills, soldering tips, and fine instruments emerged and got to work.
*scrrrrrk! *bang! *bang! *clang!
Sparks flew as he began fixing the worst parts of the arm.
He glanced toward Jinn—unconscious, unaware of what had just happened.
"oh my…" Amaron muttered.
"You're gonna have it rough, kiddo."
He sighed again, still tinkering.
"But I hope… you prove her wrong."