Darkness wrapped the dungeon like a damp cloak, and the air was so cold it felt as though it were biting into the skin. After talking at length with old William, Kenzo had eventually fallen asleep;or at least tried to. His stomach rumbled dully, empty for far too long. He would have given anything for a simple piece of bread.
But according to William, the dungeon's warden only brought food in the morning. There was nothing to hope for. Waiting, cold, and discomfort had slowly turned into a kind of norm, to the point that Kenzo barely paid attention to them anymore. He had known the hostility of the outer walls in his own world, then had gradually grown used to the metallic floor of the truck in which he had been kidnapped. But here… here, it was different.
In this test, in these dungeons, there was something worse than death.
His mind kept returning to that creature. The Void Creature. Even though he had only glimpsed its shadow and caught the stench of its abominable presence, it had etched itself into his memory like an indelible mark. Fear gnawed at his thoughts. He wondered whether he would survive the infamous hunt, whether he would ever manage to escape this nightmare. And even if he survived the creature, there would still be the warden. A Transfigured, just like it. The thought alone sent a chill down his spine.
Eventually, crushed by exhaustion and dark thoughts, Kenzo fell asleep without even realizing it…
The next morning, the cold had intensified. Kenzo slept curled up, shivering, clutching a filthy scrap of cloth that served as his blanket. A brutal crack echoed through the entire dungeon, followed by the metallic screech of a heavy door being thrown open without restraint.
– « Wake up! »
The voice was strong, clear… and strangely melodious. So soft and captivating it almost felt unreal. And yet, it imposed itself upon everyone like a divine command.
– « All of you, in front of your cells. »
At those words, a strange sensation seized Kenzo. It wasn't fear, nor curiosity. It was as if every fiber of his body screamed at him to take position. Mechanically, he stood up and moved to the front of his cell, without really understanding why. Beside him, William did the same, his weary gaze fixed straight ahead.
– « It's his Chosen power, » William explained in a low voice, glancing at Kenzo. « One of the reasons no one survives the hunt… is because of that. All he has to do is speak, and we come to him like obedient dogs. »
– « So that's what it was… » Kenzo thought, disturbed.
He wasn't the type to obey blindly, even less without reason. If he followed an order, it was either to gain something in return or to reach a greater goal. And yet, he almost felt… pleasure in complying. As if it made sense.
– « Tell me, William… wouldn't it be enough to cover our ears to make his power useless? »
The old man looked at him, this time with deep sadness in his eyes.
– « Most prisoners know his power. Yet no one escapes it. And above all… don't forget the unstable infected. »
A long silence followed those words. Kenzo felt his Heart grow heavy. He didn't know exactly what that "unstable infected" was, but nothing in those words suggested a happy ending.
Suddenly, he felt a presence approaching. A shiver ran down his back. He raised his eyes… and saw him.
The warden.
He bore no resemblance to the suave voice they had heard. He was a tall man, bare-chested, muscles bulging, head shaved. His piercing blue eyes seemed to probe souls, and his square jaw betrayed a life of brutal combat. Sweat poured from him, as if he radiated a strange, almost supernatural heat.
But what unsettled Kenzo most was his attire.
The warden wore a white tunic, simple yet clean, secured by a leather belt. Hanging from that belt was the sheath of a sword with an ancient look—worn, yet still menacing. On his left arm, a dark armband adorned with unknown, frightening symbols seemed to pulse with black energy.
Kenzo was no fashion expert, far from it. In his world, his clothes often came from dumpsters, scavenged here and there. But he at least knew this outfit… was not from today.
– « So that's what these tests are? Being transported into an alternate past and surviving? »
Since waking up here, Kenzo had always believed he was in some kind of illegal prison, perhaps used for forbidden experiments. But as time passed, that hypothesis grew less and less credible.
– « The Disciples of the Void control Void Creatures… and yet, according to the stories, these phenomena only appeared a century ago. So why is this man wearing an archaic tunic? How can a Transfigured like him already exist? »
Perhaps it was simply an artificial setting. A world forged entirely by the test, with a time period, a style, and an architecture chosen at random to destabilize the candidates.
As he lost himself in thought, he felt a shadow fall over him.
The warden stood before him, just behind the bars of the cell. A sinister grin twisted his face. His gaze locked onto Kenzo's , cold, merciless.
– « You. Today, you're going out. You're going back to see the alchemists. »
At those words, Kenzo's Heart began to beat faster.
– « The Alchemists…? »
He had already heard that name. Was it time for him to see the inside of their laboratory? Was it progress… or a trap?
He didn't know.
But he knew one thing.
His fate was in motion.
And this world—with its twisted rules, its Transfigured, its Unstable Infected, its Disciples of the Void—was far from done revealing its secrets to him.