Chương 1: Prologue: D-66

Mounds of discolored viscera, shattered armor and warped limbs filled the center of the pit. The fresh ones still twitched at the edges of the clearing. Running only bought them a few more breaths. D-66 stood in the red sand, blood slipping from her claws. The D-series program was over. Now came the matter of the leftovers. They had forced them to fight until only one remained. The rest hadn't lasted long. By sheer strength alone, she stood as the strongest unit the Beitelham facility had ever produced.

Yet they had wasted her here. Dead already? The tumor sharing her body, until now nothing but a hindrance, finally spoke. The Other, she called it. She pushed her claws deep in her temples until they scraped her skull." Not the time," she hissed. A single, slow clap drifted down from the observation platform. Hephryx. Her creator's voice followed.

"Do you see this?" he called, laughter bubbling beneath his words.

"This… is true beauty!" He thrust a hand toward her, pride radiating from every movement. Now it's our chance. Let's mutilate him. Hephryx was the only person who hated the Other more than she did. He had tried everything to excise it—iron rods through the temple, chemical burns, neural scrubbing—but it always grew back. And the hatred was mutual.

"Then why am I still here?" she shouted. The punctures in her temples sealed before the blood could even dry.

"You called me your masterpiece. If I'm the best, why haven't you sold me?" Hephryx took a slow breath.

"You were."

"What?" What?

"The truth won't hurt now," he said.

"You deserve that much. You were bought for the express purpose of being killed today."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I gave up trying to understand those masked weirdos a long time ago."

"That was the best deal you could make?"

"It was the best deal I've ever made. They paid more than all the others combined. I'll admit, I was a little disappointed at first—but business is business." Her eyes widened. Masked weirdos. Only one person came to mind. That cat lady. I knew I didn't like her for a reason. She remembered the auction, lined up with the other experiments while the buyers paraded past. Most of them moved quickly — a glance, a nod, or a dismissal. A few lingered longer on the ones with obvious utility.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Then came the woman. Hephryx had been wary of this one, which meant she was dangerous. Good. She wore black leather and a black ceramic cat mask streaked with red—dried, or decorative, D-66 couldn't tell and filed it under irrelevant. She moved differently from the others. No hurry. No performance of authority. She stopped in front of D-66 and gave her a long, cold inspection. D-66 didn't blink.

The woman tilted her head slightly then turned to Hephryx and said something too low to carry. Whatever it was, it made him straighten. D-66 caught the tail end of his response:... whatever arrangement suits you. She'd assumed the woman had rejected her. Why else would they lock her in that coffin for five long, lightless years with nothing but the Other for company? Instead, she'd been bought just to be slaughtered.

"My head won't come off easy." Hephryx smiled.

"I know it won't." He raised a hand. From the tunnels below the platform, Resonants in tall, pointed white hats began to gather into the arena. They moved with a synchronized, clinical grace. D-66 felt her heart hammer against her ribs. Her vision began to tunnel. Not enough red, it seems. The voice whispered in her head. Only this time she agreed. She wasn't going down without a fight. She didn't wait for them to fall into formation.

She met the first line of white-hats before they could make a stance, each sweep of her claws sent red splattering on the sand. Some were tougher, but once she got past the shimmer of their fields, their insides were as soft as anyone else's. Every time a blade found her skin, the Other simply absorbed the pain and demanded more blood. While her flesh knit itself a second after. When the last of the white-hats collapsed into the sand, D-66 stood panting.

She looked up at the platform, at Hephryx, who remained standing with that same grin, reveling in the joy of his achievement. To a non-Resonant, a Resonant was what a sighted, hearing man is to a blind and deaf toddler. That he had forged a mere body powerful enough to take down so many Resonants was deemed impossible.

"Did that satisfy you?" he shouted, lifting his head.

"Fenric." Who? D-66 whirled around. A heavy iron gate on the far side of the arena floor shuddered open, the sound of grinding metal echoing against the iron walls. A young man stepped into the light. He wore a long black coat that brushed against the sand and moved with effortless weight. He had black hair and eyes the color of wet concrete." We'll see," he said. Her gaze snapped to the insignia on his shoulder. A Strategoi. The apex of resonance. Calamity in human form.

She knew her strength, but no genetic modification could bridge that gulf of power. He began a measured stride toward her, his steps leaving no mark on the sand. A shiver threaded down her spine. She looked back at Hephryx; he was making the most of her death today, as he always did. That was his way of operating—using her to eliminate the other experiments, and now to entertain whatever this thing was. No hesitation. Not now. If it took him to end her… then that was enough. More than enough. We can take him.

She dropped low, claws sinking into the sand. Her calves coiled. He took one more step before she launched. Dust burst in her wake, claws aimed for his jugular. A flicker of silver crackled beside him. A spear materialized, too fast. It struck, warmth spilling down her legs. She looked down. Half her stomach, cleanly excised, was gone. She snarled, lashing out with her right arm, at his face. Her hand disintegrated into a cloud of crimson vapor on impact, pain flaring through every screaming nerve.

Before she could even stagger back, his free hand closed around her throat. Her feet dangled as he lifted her. Her intestines spilled on the sand, the pull against what remained in her abdomen was the worst feeling she had ever experienced. Her body convulsed violently, trembling as the severed tissues tried to knit themselves together, but her regeneration was strangely slowed, as if time itself had coagulated around the edges of her wounds. A sword shimmered into existence in his free hand.

She stared down into his gray eyes, searching for a flicker of hesitation. There was none. Fight. There's nothing we can do.

"Disappointing," Fenric said, his voice level utterly devoid of emotion or triumph. She closed her eyes, letting the end come. The Other didn't allow it. It forced them open. Their body convulsed, finally overcoming the dampening effect of his power. She strained, her torso arching, her mouth stretching into a deafening, raw shriek. The silver flash of the blade was the last thing she saw.