"Otto," Virella called out sharply as she pushed through the door to the holding chamber, the heavy wood slamming against the wall with a violent crack. The force nearly knocked the hinges loose.
Otto, hunched over a table cluttered with surgical tools and glowing red vials, he didn't flinch.
"What is it?" he asked, not bothering to look up.
"I'm ready to begin the experiment," she said, striding across the room, her boots echoing off the stone floor. "Here—this is the letter the Führer instructed me to deliver to you."
Otto took the parchment from her hand. The wax seal — stamped with the black eagle crest — was torn open without hesitation. His eyes scanned the inked lines quickly, his expression shifting into a twisted grin.
"Only the guilty, hmm?" he muttered, voice tinged with amusement. "Typical compromise."
He tossed the letter aside onto a nearby tray and turned to her fully now, pushing up the sleeves of his stained lab coat.
"We've got about seventy test subjects locked in the lower cells. Mostly traitors and deserters — a few murderers too. Perfect fodder."
Then his grin widened.
"But I've got something else to show you. A little surprise."
He motioned toward the iron-bound operating table at the center of the room — where the beast lay.
Virella stepped forward, her expression tightening. But something was different.
Very different.
The creature's head was partially shaven and gashed in multiple places, crude incisions stitched hastily with black thread. Long, deliberate cuts lined the arms and chest, and dried blood clung to the corners of its mouth.
"What did you do to it?" she asked, her voice low and cautious.
"Its major arteries were severed," Otto explained casually, like a butcher describing prime cuts. "We made sure its brain went without blood or air for over twenty minutes. By every scientific standard, it should be dead."
He stepped around the table slowly, eyes still fixed on the exposed cavity in the beast's chest.
"We also sent a retrieval team to collect the bodies — the ones supposedly killed by the caravan near the mountain village."A pause."But when they arrived… the corpses were gone. Vanished. As if they'd just gotten up and walked away."
He turned to Virella now, voice lowering, eyes gleaming with quiet madness.
"Basically… I think these things are immortal."He tapped the side of his temple."Something — or someone — built them that way. And if we can figure out how…"He grinned.
"Well, you know what that means."
He gestured to the beast's chest cavity — now cracked open and surrounded by surgical clamps. Virella instinctively stepped back.
Then she saw it.
Nestled within what should have been a heart was something else entirely — a dark red, jagged gemstone, pulsing faintly with red light. It looked almost alive, each beat casting a faint glow through the beast's open ribcage.
"And that," Otto said with a chuckle, "is the kicker."
Virella's eyes widened slightly.
"The gem…?"
Otto nodded with a crooked smile.
"We found it inside, embedded directly in place of the heart. It's fused into the tissue — pulsing on its own. No arteries connected. No veins feeding it. But somehow… it's keeping the creature alive."
He leaned in closer, his voice turning eager and giddy.
"We're not just dealing with a magically-enhanced beast. We're dealing with an arcane construct. Someone designed this. Someone powerful. And now..." he tapped the edge of the metal table, "we get to take it apart."
Virella stared at the pulsing gem, the unease in her chest deepening.
Something about it felt wrong. Not just foreign… but malicious.
Otto stepped back from the table, folding his arms behind his back.
"Well?" he said expectantly, nodding toward the beast. "What are you waiting for? Go on. Take it out."
Virella blinked.
"Wait—me? You want me to take it out?"
Otto raised an eyebrow as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course. Who else?"
Otto paused for a moment.
"Oh, you're right," Otto cut in, walking toward a nearby tool bench. He rummaged through a few drawers, the sound of clinking metal filling the room. "How inconsiderate of me."
Virella sighed in visible relief and took a step back. "Phew. For a moment there, I thought—"
He turned around with a grin and held out a pair of thick, black gloves.
"Here. Sorry—" he said, with mock sincerity, "—I know you only wear white. But this is all we've got today."
He smiled wide, a devilish glint in his eye.
Virella narrowed her gaze, lips tightening.
"You know exactly what you're doing."
"Do I?" Otto replied, feigning innocence. "You really think so little of me. Honestly, Virella, your accusations wound me."
She rolled her eyes and snatched the gloves from his hands.
"Spare me."
With practiced efficiency, she pulled the gloves on — the black leather stretching tightly over her fingers. Her cloak shifted as she moved to the beast's side, standing over its open ribcage and the sinister red gem that pulsed where a heart should've been.
It beat slowly, like a rhythm not meant for this world.
Virella hesitated for only a moment… then reached in.
Her fingertips brushed the gem — warm, almost sticky with the creature's residual blood. The moment her hand closed around it, the beast twitched.
Then it convulsed violently.
Its entire body jerked against the restraints — shoulders thrashing, limbs rattling the metal bindings, mouth stretching open in a silent scream.
"Fascinating," Otto muttered, scribbling something into his notebook. "We just dosed it with another full potion twenty minutes ago. And yet it fights."
Virella's eyes locked onto the gem as it started to pulse faster — almost resisting her grip.
"Come on," she muttered, tightening her grasp. The gem didn't budge easily.
Another tremor surged through the creature's body — veins bulging, blood spraying faintly from one of the sutures.
"I said—"
With a grunt, Virella pulled harder, her arms straining as magical pressure pulsed up her arm like a reverse current.
And then— YANK.
The gem tore free with a sickening squelch.
The creature seized one last time — its back arching, mouth gaping wide — before falling still.
Totally still.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the gemstone in Virella's gloved hand… still glowing. Still warm.
Otto didn't look shocked.
He looked delighted.
Virella stared down at the gemstone in her hand — red, pulsing, almost… alive.
"What now?" she asked, voice tight.
"Put your magic into it," Otto said casually, as if he'd just asked her to light a candle.
Virella blinked. "Put my—? What?" She tilted her head, visibly confused. "Into the stone?"
Otto let out a sharp huff, half amusement, half condescension.
"Yes, yes. Channel your mana into it. We have reason to believe it's some kind of magical catalyst — possibly for storage or amplification." He gestured to the gem impatiently. "Well? Go on then."
Still uncertain, Virella closed her eyes and drew a slow breath. Her fingers tightened slightly around the gem.
A faint blue glow shimmered from her palm, spreading outward until the entire room glowed with a soft, magical light. The air hummed, the torches flickered, and the glass instruments on the nearby shelf began to vibrate.
But then…
The gem began to glow too — not blue like her aura, but deep, blood red. Its pulsing intensified, almost in defiance of her energy.
Otto's eyes lit up.
"Keep going!" he barked. "Don't stop!"
Virella's brow furrowed in discomfort, the effort growing as she continued to feed mana into the gem. The red glow grew stronger, hotter. The air itself felt like it was tightening.
"Otto—how much more?" she asked, her voice strained. "It's building pressure… I can feel it. I don't think it'll hold."
"Just a little more!" he snapped, eyes locked on the stone.
Sweat formed at her brow, her hands trembling slightly. The red glow was almost blinding now — angry, volatile, unstable.
Then suddenly—
"Stop!" Otto shouted.
Virella cut the flow instantly, collapsing forward slightly as she exhaled a long, shaky breath. The red light faded, the room falling back into silence.
"That gemstone can absorb a lot," she said softly. "But not endlessly. My master once warned me… Stones like these, if overfilled, can shatter. Explode, even. Like cannons."
Otto nodded, pleased. "Yes. We read about similar accounts in the demi-human texts they left behind. These weren't made for decoration."
Virella's gaze narrowed. "Why would demi-humans have something like this?"
Otto shrugged. "Appeasing the elves, maybe. Some sort of trade or tribute. But that's beside the point."
He turned toward the blood-streaked operating table.
"We'll find a human subject next — preferably one of the condemned. I'll have the table cleaned and ready." He looked back at her with a wry smile. "Your job is simple: power the gem. And try not to let them die too easily. Understood?"
Virella frowned, but gave a short nod.
"Sure. Whatever you say, Otto."
Otto smirked as he headed toward the door.
"Still mad at me, huh? Look… I'm just following orders. Don't hold it against me too long. It might… hinder your focus."
And with that, he exited, the door creaking shut behind him — leaving Virella alone, gem still glowing faintly in her hand.
Virella looked down at the gem. Its color still vibrating red.
"What Now?"