When the guards finally came to escort us out of our cells, I had already touched the electrical barrier four more times. Each time had been worse, and yet easier.
I'd learned something important about my body during those experiments. It was adapting. The more I subjected myself to pain, the more my body learned to endure it. My cells seemed to remember every wound, every burn, every shock.
I had the ability to grow from pain.
But that raised a dangerous question in my mind: How much could I really take in one go?
What if I was struck by a mana cannon? Or caught in the flames of a Grandmaster's Fire Blast? Would I be reduced to nothing but ashes… or would I regenerate again?
A metallic voice boomed over the intercom, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"All prisoners, place your hands behind your heads."
I obeyed slowly. I wasn't looking for trouble. Not yet, anyway. I already knew my stats had grown strong enough to handle at least five Core-Initiate guards at once. But I had no intention of showing that just yet.
A low hum filled the air as the electric barrier around my cell powered down. Sparks flickered out with a hiss.
"All prisoners, step outside your cells and form a single line," the voice ordered.
For a few seconds, I hesitated, then stepped out. The others followed, shuffling into formation, eyes dull and defeated. I kept my hands behind my head, but my gaze was sharp, studying the walls, the cameras and the guards' weapons.
They led us down a long corridor until we emerged into a massive hall. The ceiling arched high above, and the sound of our footsteps echoed off the cold metal floor. Rows of prisoners stood shoulder to shoulder, all facing a raised platform at the far end.
Then the speakers crackled.
An elderly man walked onto the stage, wearing a pristine blue military uniform. His white hair was slicked back, his medals glinting beneath the bright floodlights. His presence commanded silence before he even spoke.
The hall went completely still.
It was clear to everyone that the man was a captain in the Navy. The golden anchor with winged crests gleamed proudly on his chest, the insignia of a Core Lord, a man powerful enough to command entire fleets.
He stepped up to the podium, cleared his throat, and spoke into the microphone.
His voice boomed across the hall carrying that cold Dominion tone that demanded obedience.
"Prisoners of the Dominion," he began, his voice echoing. "Welcome to Base Seven's Military Complex. I am Captain Ballantine Boaz of the Dominion Navy."
He scanned us, a sea of ragged prisoners and unwilling volunteers, like we were insects waiting to be crushed.
"Some of you already know why you're here. Others do not. So let me tell you a story. One you've all heard and dismissed as a fairy tale."
I glanced around. Nobody said a word, but I could feel the unease. All the faces were new to me. I hadn't seen Ciri since the mess hall fight with that Base 8 bastard. For all I knew, she was gone.
Boaz continued.
"Ten years ago, twenty-four battleships left the continent of Eros," he said, pacing slowly, his boots clicking against the metal floor. "Their mission was to find land beyond the great walls. To discover if humanity still existed beyond our Dominion."
He paused, his eyes narrowing as if reliving the memory.
"For years, we heard nothing. Many believed the fleet was lost....swallowed by the endless sea, devoured by the monsters that rule it. And they were right."
A ripple of murmurs went through the hall.
We'd all heard this story before, the heroic fleet that vanished. Dominion propaganda. Or so we thought.
"Twenty-three ships were destroyed," Boaz said. "Sunk by storms, consumed by beasts, or lost to madness. But one ship survived... The Bartholomew, under Captain Morris Dough. A legend among men."
He paused again, letting the name linger in the air like sacred scripture.
"Captain Dough and his crew discovered land, a cluster of islands now known as the Red Islands. There, they built Fort Arclight and made a grim discovery. The islands crawl with Beasts.... more powerful and plentiful than anything we've faced. And the energy they contain could sustain the continent for centuries."
Now the hall buzzed. Everyone knew what that meant. Beast cores, the lifeblood of civilization.
"But that's not all," Boaz said. "They found people there. Survivors of the Beast Tide. Humans who lived alongside the monsters. Not citizens… not even savages. Demons wearing human flesh."
He spat the words like venom.
"The Dominion will not allow such corruption to thrive. The Council has decreed the Red Islands be seized.... united under the only power fit to rule mankind. The Central Dominion of Humanity."
He raised a gloved hand toward the sky, a practiced gesture for the cameras watching above.
"You are humanity's reclamation force. Prisoners, volunteers, soldiers, it does not matter. You will all serve the Dominion. You will bleed for its glory."
Silence fell after that. No one cheered. No one dared to move. But deep down, every one of us knew what this meant.
We weren't being sent to the Red Islands to serve humanity.
We were being sent there to die, as the Dominion's first experiment in conquest.