Chương 16: The subject

Lance slid along the sludgy channels inside the beast. His skin itched wherever the dense sap ran down him. The walls looked like walls of living flesh, yet to the touch, they were similar to wet wood. He fell into another tunnel, wider and wetter. The temperature inside was suffocating, and the foul smell did nothing to ease his already laboured breathing. He tried to pull himself up, slipping on the greasy floor. His legs could not find a solid hold.

The hand wrapped in violet scars was clutching the pulpy mass that his shoulder had become. The creature had severed his arm completely, and the attempts of the numerous branches inside to tear him apart had only worsened it. Lance slid, pressing his back against one of the walls. A burning sensation snapped him forward. He fell again onto the wet, sticky floor, corroding his hands with sap. A violent compulsion to vomit shocked him, holding the retching back with considerable force.

He was standing inside the stomach of the beast, wounded and exhausted.

"Did Jeanne... Got away?" He murmured, dropping to his knees. The faces of Noel and Jeanne moved before his eyes, alongside Monica, Edvard, and Lautre. Even the little girl he had bought at the Child's Villa had stayed clearly impressed in his memory. He thought back to the last look he had given his companion before being swallowed. Her face was a mixture of astonishment and sadness, but he was certain he had managed to smile in that instant. His eyelids were slowly losing the strength to stay open.

The scars were advancing, and he had lost all the syringes with the Compound.

"At least… I was useful to someone." He smiled, slumping. His skin began to smoke the moment it came into contact with the brown sludge." I am sorry... Jude." A greyish light forced him back from his torpor. He slowly reopened his pupils, trying to adjust to the change in brightness. The viscous wood and the nauseating smell had vanished. Now his legs were wrapped in water. Above him stretched a vault of black and white stars, dancing in a sea of filaments and lights of a vaguely opaque colour.

His wounds had stitched themselves closed. Even his arm had returned as new.

"This… Isn't the sea of fog?" He murmured, staring at the gigantic staircase rising slowly from the ocean beneath his feet. The scale of the portal before him was comparable to that of his apartment building in Bayork, and in fact even larger. The steps were covered in black sludge and algae of a mixed grey-and-white colour. The bricks, like coal, seemed to shine with a faint violet light. At the summit, a gigantic door, sealed by chains as thick as an entire car.

They were covered in rust and algae, yet blazed with the disturbing violet-and-black glow that he had long since learned to recognise. He advanced steadily closer to the monument. The closer he came, the smaller he seemed in comparison to the structure. He finally reached out and touched the staircase with his hand: a single step was taller than he was, forcing him to climb to scale it.

With every handful of algae and sludge that settled between his palms, with every drop of sweat that ran down his forehead, it seemed as if the world around him was vibrating, following his body.

"Brother..." A voice whispered from above him while he pushed his fingers into a crack in the bricks. A sound, sweet and delicate, almost muffled, caressed his ear, drawing him to raise his head. On the step just above him, a little girl in a white coat, covered in black stains. The dress covered her to the knees, leaving her ankles exposed, lacerated by numerous scars. Her thick black hair lay across her shoulders, falling in front of her face.

Through her thick lashes, a golden glow shone in contrast to the darkness of her mane.

"Ju… Jude?" Lance spoke with a thread of voice, holding back the tears, gripping the step with force. He was kneeling before her, a river of tears already running down his cheeks. His lips were wrapped in tremors. His tired, wounded face now blazed with tranquillity and joy. He would have spoken, but his voice had broken in his throat. He could only moan, reaching his hands toward her face. The girl smiled, dissolving into a cloud of white dust.

Lance could only watch in silence as the cloud dispersed before him, trembling in the silence of the sea.

"No… No… No… No!" Weeping bitter tears, he tried to clutch some remnant of the dust, desperately hoping to see her again. The dream before his eyes had shattered, and he had been powerless.

"DAMN IT!!!" With his eyes still wet, he struck the stairs. Fragments of black rock slid away into the water below. His knuckles were bleeding copiously, and his wounds had reopened, but he did not care in the slightest. He kept driving his fists against the staircase, screaming into the void. The intensity of the blows arrested, leaving only the laboured and broken breathing of the boy to fill the silence.

"I am useless... I can't... I can't do anything." He murmured, gripping his own chest with force. A creaking sound began to mix with his lament, growing until it drowned it out. The chains wrapped around the gigantic door were slowly beginning to crack. Small metal shards shot into the air, followed by an even greater shrieking. The tension was tearing them apart.

Lance turned, looking for a way out, but realised that all the steps he had already climbed had vanished, confining him to a few paces from the buckling door.

"Is this... Hel?" One chain tore loose, crashing down on one side of the staircase, crushing it beneath its weight. All the others followed, shattering with a loud crash. Some remains drove themselves into the rock at his feet, while others disappeared into the sea. A violent shock made him lose his grip. A shiver penetrated his meninges; The sensation was similar to being stabbed between the vertebrae. Mixed with the tears ran drops of blood. The whites of his eyes were soon stained red. His pupils blazed gold.

The door burst open, releasing a wave of icy air. He strained to look through the thick doors of black, rotting wood lined with algae and what appeared to be bones. The only thing blazing beyond that portal was a thick white-and-grey sludge, perpetually in motion like a vortex. Its undulation was hypnotic and surreal. The moment his hand came to rest on his flank, a series of tentacles exploded from the sludge. The wet, viscous suckers wound themselves around his sides, squeezing with violence.

The air began to leave his body. He tried to speak, but his lungs were already scraping against his own ribs. A long and gigantic arm emerged from the portal, letting white sludge drip down the remains of the staircase. The hand was long and sinuous, with black painted nails and fingers wrapped in thick golden ornaments resembling chains. It closed around Lance, pinning his arms. With a snap, the hand retracted, transporting him into the sludge beyond the door. A blinding white light swallowed his sight." Where…

Am I?" He tried to say, but his mouth would not move as he wanted. His eyes were looking at a white space, with a beautiful azure sky and dozens of clouds on the horizon. The sun, however, was coated in a black glow, appearing as a stain of ink in the sky. Slightly to the side, a white moon blazed, wrapped in a reddish light; and at the apex of that surreal triangle, a mass of rock and flame blazed with a blinding flare of light, similar to snow.

He felt cold and yet a sweet warmth; Gently drowsy and yet invigorated, as if this space embodied everything pleasant in the world. The fingers of the hand moved slightly, pushing him upward, now only pinning his arms. A small jolt moved the arm.

"Hey, Lance… Have you perhaps forgotten the promise you made me?" He turned sharply, noticing a woman, or so he thought, wrapped in a long white dress with golden chains and jewels. The entire gown was decorated with a long cape of luminous yellowish colour. A mass of hair, white as ash, escaped from beneath the hood that covered her face. She was bouncing on the arm, making her chains sway in sync with those on the limb that kept him pinned. Her fingers brushed his face as she knelt.

Her touch was icy, and yet he found it comforting. He raised his gaze, trying to make out the face of the woman, but met only a darkness shaken by the motion of whitish and luminous tentacles. He could hear a thoughtful murmur, feeling her fingers slide along his skin, just below the eye.

"I know that deep down… You will respect it… When you remember." The tone of that voice was joyful, almost amused, yet no expression made it discernible.

"Who... I don't." The words died, as if it was not the place or the moment to move his lips.

"Show me how your story will evolve… Lance Klint, the most pathetic of human beings." The woman's voice seemed to smile at him, while his sight slowly sank into the darkness. The last thing he managed to glimpse was Jude's smile before it disappeared. He snapped his eyes open, raising the palm covered in sap toward the ceiling of the stomach. His shoulder was still in pieces, but the regeneration seemed sufficient to prevent the haemorrhage from worsening. A jolt sent him rolling against the wall.

The temperature was growing increasingly hot and suffocating. At his feet were black spheres no larger than a fist, their surface carved to form a mesh. He collected them, wedging them into the elastic of his suit. He found something else on the floor. A pistol covered in sap, yet still intact. The metal set in wood gleamed threateningly.

"I will not… Stop… Here!" He exhaled, collecting some blood from his wounds and spreading it across his nails. The red liquid mixed with corrosive sludge hardened abruptly, becoming similar to a series of claws.

"Jude… I will come for you… As I promised." He murmured, slowly pushing his hand against the wall of wood and flesh. Forcing harder and harder, he managed to perforate it. A stream of violet and luminescent blood struck his face. He smiled, pushing his arm even deeper. He tore it free with speed, widening the wound. He collected one of the grenades, brought it close to his mouth, and bit hard on the pin. His eyes blazed gold once more.

"You will soon find out that you took more than you can chew." He joked, pushing the grenade through the gap. The Amalgama recoiled its limbs in fear, the numerous tentacles it had emitted from its trunk now reduced to carbonised torches. The woman at the summit had her arms wrapped around herself, clutching her stomach. Jeanne was still wrapped in flames, not caring in the slightest about the overload. Her eyes were weeping drops of paint.

She hurled away the bundle of burned branches and sticky ash that had once been the creature's tail." Why doesn't she die? We cut her arm, head, and stomach, but the only thing she does is cry..." Not that she would care. Jeanne simply tore it apart with a smile. Jeanne launched herself against the Amalgama, plunging her palms wrapped in incandescent paint into the soft wood. A tongue of fire shot against another tentacle, severing and wrapping it.

Black scars decorated the body of the creature, while dense black smoke began filling the room.

"Give him back…" She murmured, driving her hand into the wood again. This time, the paint began to boil, expanding through the beast's capillaries, inflating them with molten metal and searing heat. The entire flank of the Amalgama exploded, spraying burned sap everywhere, corroding the walls and the floor. Jeanne remained suspended, smiling and laughing with joy. The red in her eyes seemed to agitate between her pupils, bouncing between different shades. The beast screamed desperately.

Jeanne threw herself backward, sliding across the floor. She stamped her foot, preparing to launch herself one last time. The flames intensified, blazing brighter than before. The floor destroyed itself at her departure. A sphere of flames and smoke was shooting in every direction through the room, bouncing between the walls. The Amalgama tracked it, retracting its limbs by instinct. The red flash pierced its flank, burning completely everything it had passed through.

She stopped against the wall, continuing to weep. She licked her lips, collecting with her tongue the little blood that had remained stuck to them. She prepared to launch herself again, observing with delirious anticipation the point she was about to lacerate.

"You die..." She was about to launch, but lost her footing. The strength had abandoned her legs, making her fall heavily to the ground. Clots of blood and paint blocked her throat, and even her eyes were beginning to be coated by a thin film." Not now… Not..." She murmured desperately, trying to pull herself up, but her body had abandoned its obligation to serve her, leaving her inert on the floor. The Amalgama swayed its branches and burned stumps, trying to mimic a laugh followed by applause.

The woman at the summit was still covered in tears of sap, but was smiling amicably toward the girl at the foot of the wall. She crawled across the floor, leaving a viscous trail behind her. On her chest, the fissure resembling jaws opened again. The mouth extended like a gigantic worm. Inside the dark, oily, dripping corridor, wooden busts were agitating their arms, waiting to mince the prey. The Amalgama was ready to throw itself on Jeanne, but something stopped it.

The woman at the top touched her own stomach, bending over in pain. An explosion destroyed part of the trunk, spraying violet liquid. A second explosion tore apart her back and branches, making the worm slump to the ground. The grenades were making regeneration difficult, being saturated in Lambdite. From behind the woman, an arm emerged, wrapped in sap and violet blood, giving off a translucent vapour from the acid of the brown sludge. The hand grabbed the wood, crushing it, launching the owner over.

Lance drew a breath of air, finding his throat invaded by smoke. He had carved his way through the flesh of the creature using his own blood and the grenades, slowly climbing to the top. Straining, he dragged himself out of the wound, holding the pistol in his hand. He staggered toward the woman, who was still writhing in pain, hissing through her wooden lips. He raised his arm, pointing Supplicium at the skull of the figure before him.

The woman noticed the presence behind her back, turning to look him in the eyes.

"This… Is the best I can do." He said, looking at her. From the tips of his hair ran violet rivulets. The figure extinguished her demonic expression, reclaiming a gleam of humanity in her gaze, even if only for an instant. Her pupils brightened, this time with crystalline tears. She said nothing, but she seemed to be thanking the boy.

"I hope that you… That all of you… Can forgive me." He whispered, pressing the trigger. The wooden body, along with the blazing crystal wrapped in branches and leaves inside it, was swept away by the force of the bullet. The wall before him collapsed completely, pouring more debris and rubble into the hall. The Amalgama fell to the floor, along with Lance, exhausted. His body rolled among the debris, arresting its course near the rotting, decomposing wood of the creature.

A greyish cloud was rising from the cadaver, mixing with the smoke. He pulled himself up, leaning against the boulders. He looked with disgust at his arms covered in the same substance, exhaling shortly after.

"It will take an eternity to get rid of this smell..." He shook the slick residue from his body. He collected an iron beam from the floor and used it as a staff, making his way toward Jeanne. The girl had fainted inside a pool of paint, small waves rippling the surface near her lips. Lance felt relief flood through him, unable to mask his smile. He grabbed her by an arm, lifting her gently over his shoulder, making his way slowly toward Noel, still unconscious among the rubble."

It feels different from when I carried her to the apartment." He thought, trying to conceal his disgusted expression at the oily, sludgy sensation on his skin. The arm covered in cold paint had settled on the back of his neck, smeared in sticky ink. Lance set her down near his companion. The two seemed to be sleeping, but the wounds on their bodies told a very different story from a pleasant rest.

He noticed the small hole on Noel's neck, decorated with a few drops of dark, dry mixture"So he was forced to use the Compound…" He murmured, sitting on a block that had fallen from the ceiling.

"Those things..." He sighed, holding his head in both hands. His temples were burning, and the pain was carving through his nerves. The tips of his fingers were icy and devoid of vigour, while his insides seemed almost to be boiling. He pressed the screen of the dirty watch with effort. The black surface had been scratched and ruined, but was still legible.

"LAMBDA RADIATION INTERFERENCE DETECTED — COMMUNICATION FUNCTIONS DISABLED — ALL AGENTS ARE ADVISED TO EVACUATE THE AREA."

"We need to get out." He raised his gaze toward the enormous hole in the ceiling, small cascades of greyish water falling through the opening. His wrist was shaken by a vibration, followed by an intense pain, as if a bolt of lightning had just crossed his skin all the way to the bone.

"What was that!" He swore, shaking the watch.

"EMERGENCY DOSE ADMINISTERED — CONDITIONS RESTORED — OVERLOAD WITHIN MAXIMUM ACCEPTABLE LIMITS""Good… Telling me I cannot do anything for this arm without buying a one-way ticket to the grave!" He joked, running his hand across the stump, sealed by a bruised mass of partially fused flesh. The watches of Jeanne and Noel vibrated shortly after, contorting their sleepy faces with a thin grimace of pain.

"Neither of them is in good shape." He looked at them, examining their wounds, especially Noel, wrapped in scars and cuts alongside bruises and abrasions." I can carry them all out… But it will take a while without the ability." He thought, now turning his gaze toward the two women hidden behind Noel. He smiled, glad for a moment. His pupils widened, and every hair on his skin stood on end. Behind him, he heard applause, slow and heavy. Applause of praise and satisfaction.

His neck trembled, but he managed to find the strength to turn around.

"Hello, Alpha… Or should I call you Lance?" Before him, a man wrapped in a thick mantle covered in metal plates encrusted with old paint was waving his finger in the air, looking for the best way to address him. His long black hair fell as far as his hips. His face was without any hair and radiated vitality and youth from every angle, yet his tone, bearing, and gaze communicated a disconcerting truth." Around his thirties… Long hair…" He realised, looking at him darkly. His eyelids continued to tremble.

The image he had built of the person who had taken him matched this individual exactly.

"Come now, Alpha, do not make that face… We have known each other for some time." He smiled, opening his arms, revealing the military uniform of Andimica beneath, pierced at almost every point, with a deformed pin adorning his chest.

"That uniform… Is it from the Great War?" He murmured, analysing every detail of his clothing.

"I see you have sharpened your mind, well done… You have hit the mark." He replied. An aura of hatred and desperation pervaded his piercing gaze. The black of his pupils devoured all light that tried to illuminate them. His eyes communicated nothing but a sensation of death and destruction, as when standing before a storm or a heavy sea. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"How do you know my name? Are you Changeant too?!" He asked, without taking his gaze from him for even a second.

"But how… Do you not remember me? And yet I am the one who tore you and your sister from your mother's arms." His face began to be wrapped in a dark and unsettling aura.

"Our… Mother?" Lance's emotions fluctuated uncontrollably in his mind. The memories impaled him like lances, making him stagger." Well done, Damian.

""I love you…"

"Damian… Protect her…"" Sorry… but I cannot let you see her."" These… Are memories… My memories?" The images of a woman with dark hair moved before his eyes, followed by the figure of a man in a black coat covered in medals from collar to hip. The last thing his mind allowed him to see was his arm being torn apart before grazing the glass of a cell. The room was dark, but through the red glow of the sirens, he had seen a little girl chained to a hospital bed. Above her, a large illuminated sign.

The inscription read: SUBJECT 9 — QUEEN Lance screamed, gripping his eye, once again full of blood. The red rivulets ran down his skin until they dripped onto the floor.

"Do you remember something? I would prefer not to be the trigger of your panic attacks." He joked, advancing, still covered by the mantle.

"You… You… Were… There." He was breathing heavily, tightening a metal cube between his fingers. Without thinking twice, the mass in his hand changed volume, extending and expanding. He pointed the heavy revolver at the man and pressed the trigger. A direct impact followed the report emerging from the hot metal barrel. Before him, a cloud of black smoke stood where the man had been. Just before being hit, he had smiled, disappearing into the explosion.

"Have you made some friends at NOIR?" The smoke was cut by the sinuous movement of the mantle. The figure emerged unharmed from the shot, limiting itself to straightening its uniform, waiting for an answer. Lance's fingers were trembling, nearly losing their grip on the weapon." Did he brush off a Supplicium's round?" The man noticed the desolate and dejected gaze of the boy, smiling while maintaining the same empty, expressionless stare.

"Judging by your expression, you do not remember that we have already had a similar confrontation…" He spoke with a low tone, taking a new step forward.

"I am Malcolm… Malcolm Van Jir, former general of Andimica's troops and vice-commander of Changeant." His smile was slowly extinguishing itself as he advanced toward him, motionless.

"I was the bodyguard of the scientist who monitored Queen, but unfortunately, I was on a break, and when I returned. I found him reduced to a rag with fractured ligaments and several vertebrae torn out…" With every step he took, not a sound except his voice could be heard.

"It was a pitiful sight, and you were the one responsible." He spoke, and his tone did nothing but lower itself, growing darker and more ominous.

"I have a strong sense of duty… I fulfilled my task and engaged in a fight against you. Do you want to know what happened immediately after you tackled me?" He asked, now a few paces from him. Lance was still stunned, the pupils in his eyes moving compulsively, trying to escape the destructive and baleful aura of the man before him.

"I tore your arm off, just like this." The man's hands moved with a snap, almost gripping Lance's shoulder in a vice. His body reacted on reflex, launching itself to the opposite side of the room." I couldn't track him? Is he faster than Laure?" Malcolm closed his fist around the air, adjusting to the absence of anything between his fingers. He opened his completely black eyes wide, manifesting a minimum of satisfaction.

"Improvements... Well done, Alpha, however…" He stopped. Black sparks flowed from his fingers, wrapping the air around him. Cracks began to form in the surrounding air, followed by an awful shrieking. His hand closed into a fist, making the atmosphere collapse with a detonation, as if all the oxygen and smoke had been cancelled, leaving behind only a void.

"I detest what evolves without supervision… They just create such an unnatural resistance toward the end." A bleak and empty smile reappeared on his lips as he walked toward Lance." I cannot… Beat him." This was the conviction that had matured in his mind. His eyes were tired, but not incapable of seeing the enormous anomaly in the Frequency that had just occurred. All the interference had disappeared in an instant, and was filled by a new Frequency.

He tested his knee with the barrel of the pistol, making sure it was intact. His fingers were trembling, and his sight was beginning to fade again, but he had one possibility." It is a gamble… Monica will hate me if I come back alive." He thought, loading all his Frequency into his muscles, sacrificing the regeneration, reopening all his wounds. He opened Supplicium's chamber, discharging a current of energy directly into the bullet holes. The metal seemed almost to glow.

He snapped the weapon shut, pointing it at Malcolm again. He detonated the first shot. The impact echoed through the room, shaking the walls.

"You have not matured if you think that works." Malcolm waved his hand, clearing the smoke. A bewildered expression flashed across his face for a second, noticing that Lance had disappeared. A metallic sound reached his ears from behind, making him turn with curiosity. He pointed the second bullet at his face, pressing the trigger again.

"Why are you still so asinine?" He said, cutting through the cloud with a vague sulphurous smell, slowly looking around for Lance. A violet light projected its shadow from behind him.

"Alpha, it will not work…" Instead of meeting the white metallic barrel of Supplicium, Malcolm was greeted by a black metal wrap around the revolver. Its surface seemed almost to drip.

"I hope your death is not a pleasant one." Lance murmured, holding the weapon with all the force he had left. His bracelet had fused to the revolver unconsciously, amplifying its Frequency. BAAANGG An explosion wrapped in electricity and flames enveloped Malcolm, destroying the wall behind him making heavy blocks of concrete to collapse from the summit. All the wounds on Lance's arm reopened in a spurt of blood and sweat. The violet scars expanded as far as the collarbone, carving even deeper.

Lachesi detached itself from the revolver, returning to his forearm.

"You… Helped me?" He whispered with a thread of voice, caressing the very smooth surface of the black metal. In a single instant, before firing that shot, Lachesi had given Supplicium an enormous quantity of Frequency, overcharging the bullet.

"If I had… Used you… What would be left of me now?" He murmured, looking with disgust at the marks making their way toward his face." Do not use that weapon… Promise me." Monica's words echoed through his skull. It had not been intentional, and probably his instinct had drawn on the power of that relic to the extent it was permitted, but even that minimum dosage was more than sufficient to bring him close to death. Before his hands could reach his mouth, he started to vomit a thick, violet, and frothy mucus.

"Fuck... Where are they... Is he dead?" All his questions looped in his head, assaulted by the sudden migraines. He moved toward Jeanne and Noel, tying them to himself one at a time with the remains of the heavy harness, making a cord, loading them over his shoulders and flank. He took the two women under his arms, setting off slowly toward the exit. Clap. Clap. Clap. He turned in horror, trying to maintain his hold on his companions, still unconscious.

"I didn't know you were chosen by that relic." Malcolm had reappeared from the rubble. At his feet, the terrain had been levelled; even the debris that had collapsed on him seemed to have vanished. His face was completely unharmed, fused to a disturbing vacancy. He raised a finger, condensing something on the tip. A small black sphere, blazing with a whirlwind of black and opaque lightning. Dust and haze were sucked almost instantaneously into the dark horizon.

The globe left his hand, descending gently to the floor. It disappeared into the ground, leaving only the sound of rushing water to accompany their intersecting gazes.

"Let us see if you still want to be a hero, Alpha." He turned his back, wrapping himself in the heavy mantle, vanishing with a wave of his hand.

"This was just a greeting, and if you survive... Try to understand something more about NOIR." His echo in the darkness spread around Lance. Meanwhile, the laboratories started to creak, with visible cracks forming all around.

"Is the frequency imploding on itself?" The waves in the environment were slowly being compressed into themselves until they disappeared, leaving a void." By this rate... Everything will collapse." He realised the moment he felt the floor beneath his feet collapse, breaking into hundreds of small slabs. He lost his footing, sliding deeper and deeper into the chasm. The load on his shoulders was heavy, and his body was beginning to abandon him.

He tried in every way to grip hold, but every time only managed to sink further. The staircase to the exit was slowly shrinking.

"No… I… Can… I must… Make it…" He murmured, squeezing his fingers into the ground, which was slowly beginning to crumble. His voice got laboured, while blood began to stain his teeth." Big brother…"

"Klint!!!"

"You are my last hope, Lance…" These words resonated in his head, each one charged with a painful memory. The powerlessness of his actions hovered in those words. The inability to act permeated those sentences, and yet now they were his only handhold. He stamped his foot hard on the foothold, about to crumble. White and black flashes wrapped around his thighs, unnaturally contracting them.

"I will not disappoint… AGAIN!!!" He leapt, escaping the abyss. He accelerated the moment his soles touched the floor, shooting toward the door, which was beginning to be obstructed by the rubble." More…" The memory of Jude, disappeared in the rain, pervaded his gaze." It does not matter how painful it is… Push… Regenerate the wounds… Do not worry about yourself. Think only of the lives you are carrying. Think only of getting closer to her with every step…"" ACCELERATE!!!"

A flame without colour, as if it had simply distorted the space around it, wrapped his flesh. He crossed the corridor, rapidly pursued by the encroaching destruction. He could feel it winding around his ankles, but did not care. His neck was beginning to bleed, eroded by the overload. On his shoulders, between his arms, he could feel hearts beating so hard they made him forget the beat in his own chest.

"I couldn't help you… But I will help them now!" His right leg's ligaments snapped with a small pop, like a lace torn suddenly." Forgive me, Jude, for making you wait… Your big brother will make amends for the delay, I promise!" All his strength poured into the other leg, in one last desperate leap toward the light. The figure, covered in bodies, flew out of the Rafflesia, silhouetting itself above Arden Ring, in the sky kissed by the night. The lights were slowly going out beneath his own gaze.

"I… Made it." He smiled before losing all his strength completely, crashing heavily to the ground, in one last attempt to protect his companions, shielding them with his own body. Noel and Jeanne fell onto a bundle of old crates, fortunately filled with old clothes. Leva and Leiva instead ended up inside the bushes of a garden right at the entrance to the alley. To protect them, Lance lay on the ground, wrapped in a pool of blood coloured by violet tones. His nostrils and even his eyes were filled with red.

His heartbeat had slowed terribly. He tried to shake his arms, but they were almost glued to the stones of the alley. His right leg was motionless, while the left had lost its knee. The violet glow on his neck was slowly reaching his chin." Eh… Eheh… I overdid it here…" He smiled, feeling his gaze go out gently." No ominous apparitions to save me this time, I think…" His right eye closed first, worsening his already scarce vision. Suddenly, his eye caught something beside him, a shadow. It approached.

In the sea of blurs, he could not make it out clearly. He could only glimpse a long black dress and white hair, paired with a brilliant green glow.

"Who… Are you?" He murmured before collapsing definitively. The shadow settled him on its knees, gently cleaning his face with a cloth soaked in a strange pink substance. Just as it had arrived, it vanished into nothing. Leaving Lance leaning against the wall, by now devoid of senses, but with his face decorated by a warm smile. A great commotion echoed through the belly of the Diem. Screams, shrieks, and suppressed weeping disturbed his tired mind.

"Noel… Do something!"

"I am tryin', but I cannot force another injection… He could die or worse."

"Pass me the needle… I need to at least suture the wounds." Lance drifted in the blackest void, unable to see or move. His consciousness floated free, detached from his body, locked in a dark shell.

"What is happening? Where did I end up?" He looked at his hands, intact as if he had not received so much as a scratch, and yet he did not feel all right. A burning sensation crossed his skin, as if it were being pricked by nails. He stopped floating, settling his naked body on the gleaming black eternity that permeated that space. No fog, no sea, no sky, no stars, only the void.

"Am I… Dead?" He asked himself in fear, shaking every muscle of his body.

"No, you are not… I could not have let you die like this, but you are in worse shape than expected." A voice behind him called him back. On a hospital stretcher sat a man slightly taller than him, dressed with tremendous elegance. His broad shoulders stood out in the black of his suit, while the bluish shirt beneath completed the look. His young and energetic body was marked by numerous scars, even on his knuckles and the little forearm that protruded from the sleeve.

His face was covered by the brim of the white hat he was wearing, adorned with a grey feather, partially burned. The aura he radiated was authoritative but, at the same time, warm and comfortable.

"You are… The shadow in that clearing?" Lance squinted his eyes, approaching.

"Correct, I see you are getting used to things rather quickly." His tone seemed playful but also worried.

"I wanted to intervene… But someone stopped me, and sadly, I cannot tell you who." Lance came to a halt, continuing to fix his eyes on the man a few paces from him. His clothing blended with the darkness of the place, giving him an almost mystical appearance.

"You have grown well, Lance Klint… I am proud." He opened, pointing a finger at him; for a second, it seemed as if the darkness had brightened.

"Thanks, but... I don't even know who you are." Lance spoke, moving his head a bit to the side with a smile.

"You are right, but I can't answer all the questions you wish to ask."

"From now on, you will have to face even greater challenges. You have found bonds and something to fight for, but are you truly certain… That you want to search so much for your past?" The question shook the entire space.

"If it is… For the good of Jude and of NOIR…"

"I am ready to immerse myself in the abyss." His voice was certain. It was not a rational answer, but it was a tangible feeling that permeated his words. He could not see the face of the shadow, but he could perceive something like a smile materialising on it.

"I wonder… If you think of yourself at some point." He replied, turning his back and slowly heading toward the horizon.

"Lance… Being kind is a far greater burden than being cruel." These were his words before he disappeared into the void.

"One last thing…" This time, the sound resounded directly in the boy's head, on the verge of falling to the floor, even in a place like this.

"Do not hate Jack… It only wanted the best." His consciousness fell again into a deep sleep. The Diem landed quickly outside the main Hangar, performing an emergency landing directly beneath the Monolith. Two figures held a body between them, in terrible condition. The entrance hall of NOIR had been adorned with decorations, but Arte had decided to economise on the welcome banners, deemed by her too infantile.

"I wonder what report they will give us… I am certain they will have done something exceptional." Edvard opened, sipping his coffee, seated with dignity in the armchair, not a drop running from his lips. He had straightened the collar of his jumper perfectly.

"I cannot contain myself! Lance will certainly have compliments for me about his equipment… Supplicium is one of my masterpieces after all." Maverick exulted, satisfied, crossing his legs on the sofa while swaying left and right. He clutched the edges of his white fur coat.

"We should let them rest … hick… They have faced far too many problems … hick… For their first day." Lautre slammed his glass on the table, almost emptied of brandy, making it oscillate among glassy reflections.

"I would say… That you are not in the condition to give us a sermon." Edvard said, pointing a finger at the empty bottle beside him.

"Come now… Do not argue. What kind of impression do you want to give?" Monica answered, descending the stairs, making her coat flutter.

"Will Maliard and Hoku be absent?" She inquired. She was dressed in one of her classic pyjama-like t-shirts, this time decorated with a branch of bamboo.

"Mr. Maliard has just returned from a Singularity, while Mr. Sai is in considerable conflict with Mr. Noel at this moment… I believe it is due to the latter's flight from the mission." Arte replied, always dressed in her classic maid uniform.

"C'mon… I wanted to see his reaction when he saw those two come back triumphant; they are my pupils after all." Monica lamented, rolling on the sofa.

"You meant to say MY … hick… Pupils." Lautre murmured, draining the last sip from the glass.

"But isn't it strange that all the communications were suddenly cut off?" Maverick spoke, this time raising an idea that would have been better left unspoken.

"Well, Arden is near Sector II. It's not unusual for a sudden spike in the Frequency." Edvard answered, gently lowering the cup.

"Lucas said that the watches used the emergency dose. I don't wanna jinx it since they are programmed to stop even an early Overload but..." He stopped, watching both Monica and Arte fidget.

"Let's not worry now! It was a simple operation. Nothing could have gone wrong!" Monica smiled, putting both thumbs up. The lift doors lit up, signalling that someone was about to arrive. All the members present stood, preparing to welcome their guests. The doors swung open, toppling the trio inside. They were followed by a dense crowd of people, dressed in red and white.

"WELCO—" Their chorus broke off immediately, cut by the scene that had manifested before them. Noel was covered in scars, his prosthesis ruined and in pitiful condition. Jeanne was full of burns, cuts, and bruises, her gaze broken by weeping. Held tight in her arms was a boy covered in bandages and sutures. His legs were completely in pieces, appearing twisted and bent; his left arm was reduced to a disgusting mass of partially fused and burned skin. Deep scars, wet with violet liquid, pervaded his entire body.

The imposing man averted his gaze, biting his lip, unable to bear their horrified reaction. Edvard let his cup fall to the floor, remaining impassive. Jeanne was weeping desperately, pressing Lance closer and closer against herself, stumbling forward toward Monica, contorted in a terrified expression, almost on the verge of tears.

"Please…" She wept, her breath broken by sobs. She cast a glance at the body glued to her flank by her embrace, weeping even more bitterly. Her legs were trembling, straining in every way not to let the boy fall to the floor. A trail of blood ran from her wrist, staining the floor.

"Save him…" Her tone, like a prayer, was directed at the people before her, struck by the horror they had just witnessed before their eyes.

"PLEASE… SAVE LANCE!!!"