Alvin followed Exile deeper into the ruined facility.
They stopped in what looked like a hall.
The place was a wreck—walls shattered, the floor riddled with holes. Bullet holes.
'A fight happened here.'
Alvin's gaze swept the surroundings as he stepped forward—then something crunched under his boot.
He glanced down.
A skeleton.
Its tattered white coat suggested it had once belonged to a researcher.
"Idiots," Exile muttered, barely sparing it a glance. "I told them not to use Mist-coated bullets."
He pulled something from his storage and tossed it to Alvin.
A mask.
"Put it on. For your safety."
Alvin caught it, hesitating before strapping it over his face. "What exactly are Mist-coated bullets?" His voice was slightly muffled through the mask. "And why aren't you wearing one?"
Exile tilted his chin toward the skeleton. "If one of those bullets hit you, you'd end up like that."
Alvin stiffened. His eyes flickered back to the remains.
"Then why aren't you affected?"
Exile chuckled, the sound dry and almost amused. "Why would I be afraid of the Mist?" He turned, stepping deeper into the ruins.
"The creator of those bullets was my girlfriend."
Alvin stared at Exile like he'd seen a ghost.
'How can he say that with a straight face?'
'Wait… this guy had a girlfriend?'
Before Alvin could dwell on it, Exile started walking. "This way."
Alvin followed, stepping carefully. He didn't want to repeat his earlier mistake and step on another skeleton.
Then,
"Whisper."
Alvin tensed. The moment Exile called him that, he knew—this wasn't casual anymore.
It was time to get serious.
Exile came to a halt, turning back to face him. His gaze was sharp, unreadable.
"Tell me, Whisper." His voice was calm, yet it carried weight. "Who is humanity's worst enemy?"
Alvin thought for a moment.
"It's the magic beasts, right?"
Exile shook his head. "No." His tone was absolute.
"Magic beasts are enemies… but they are not the worst enemy."
Exile tapped a switch on the wall beside him.
With a low hum, the darkness peeled away as dim lights flickered to life.
Alvin's breath hitched.
It was an operation room—but nothing like a normal one.
Chains hung from the ceiling, their rusted links swaying slightly. Dried blood stained the floors and walls, forming dark, unrecognizable patterns. The air carried a faint, metallic scent—long faded but never truly gone.
Exile handed him a thick file of papers.
"Read them."
Alvin flipped through the pages.
Missing persons reports. Dozens of them.
Before he could process it, Exile handed him another file.
-----------
Subject Number: 4562
Details:
10 days of wolf blood distillation. Subject exhibited accelerated hair and nail growth.
20 days in—subject deceased.
Conclusion:
Internal organs began an abnormal transformation.
-----------
Alvin's hands trembled as he turned the page.
A photo stared back at him.
His stomach twisted.
The person in the image… barely looked human anymore.
Exile's voice cut through the silence.
"The chimera you saw outside," he said, stepping toward a doorway leading underground, "was just one of many created here."
He pushed the door open. The darkness beyond it stretched endlessly.
"This way."
Alvin followed, his footsteps echoing in the hollow silence.
As they walked, Exile's voice cut through the gloom.
"Still think magic beasts are humanity's worst enemy?"
Exile scoffed. "Those beasts, at worst, grant a quick death."
His amber eyes flickered in the dim light.
"But people like these? They're far worse."
Alvin's grip tightened.
"They kidnap people—sell them in auctions like cattle."
Exile's voice was steady, but beneath it lay something colder. Sharper.
"Some torture them. Experiment on them. Stretch their pain for days, months—years—until death is nothing but a mercy."
He stopped and turned.
His gaze locked onto Alvin's.
"So, I'll ask you again…"
A beat of silence.
"Who is humanity's worst enemy?"
Alvin held his stare, the weight of everything pressing down on him.
He hesitated, his throat felt dry.
"...Humans themselves. Not all of us but still a human"
A smirk played on Exile's lips.
"Nice guess, but... wrong again."
Alvin's breath caught. His eyes widened.
'If not humans—then who?'
Exile stopped before a tightly locked door, his fingers brushing against the rusted handle.
"Is it really that hard to figure out?" His voice was almost amused.
Then, without waiting for an answer
"Why not ask them yourself?"
Alvin frowned. "Ask who—?"
With a metallic clank, Exile unlocked the door. As it creaked open, his words echoed through the dim corridor.
"The humans you just spoke of."
Alvin's breath hitched.
Inside the room,
At least forty people were chained to the walls.
His mind reeled. "What the—"
He had been on this island for six months with Exile. And then, somehow, another five months had passed unknowingly.
Eleven months.
Nearly a year in this forsaken place.
Meaning these people had been here even longer.
Alvin's eyes darted over them. Hollow stares. Skeletal limbs. Some barely breathing.
Behind them—green liquid tanks pulsed eerily in the dim light. Wires snaked from the tanks, drilling into their flesh.
It didn't take much to understand.
These people—they should've been dead.
But that eerie green liquid was keeping them alive.
Alvin's stomach churned.
"They're still breathing…?" His voice came out quieter than he expected.
"Of course," Exile said, settling into a nearby chair. "These people were researchers—quite famous ones, actually."
His tone was casual, as if they were discussing the weather. Then, he gestured lazily.
"Go on. Ask them."
Alvin hesitated. His fingers twitched.
"Isn't this… too cruel?"
Exile laughed. A deep, cold sound.
"Cruel?" He leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee. "Did you forget?"
His amber eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"They killed over five thousand innocent people. And they did it in the most horrific ways imaginable."
Alvin inhaled sharply, forcing himself to breathe evenly.
"Then why not just kill them instantly?" His voice was firmer now. "Why keep them like this?"
Exile's expression darkened. His voice sharpened like a blade.
"Because we are no saints, Whisper."
His gaze bore into Alvin's.
"If we kill them instantly, then we are no different from beasts."
His words lingered, heavy in the air.
"These people chose their path. So, they will see it through to the end."
He stood, his cloak shifting with the motion.
"People must pay for their sins."
"That is our law—the law of the Twilight Crown."
Exile's gaze darkened.
"And we?" A pause. His voice was quiet, absolute.
"We are Necessary Evil."