On the outskirts of Doitand, in the middle of a vast, barren desert, nothing seemed amiss. The cold night air whispered across shifting dunes, an endless sea of sand concealing the horrors buried beneath. But below this desolate wasteland, hidden beneath layers of compacted earth, a sanctuary had been carved out—an underground refuge, meticulously crafted by Dante's earth magic.
Unlike the cramped, makeshift hideouts they had been forced to use in the city, Dante using his earth magic had made this space, it was expansive, its walls reinforced and stable. A stark contrast to the rotting wooden floors and damp concrete walls of the rundown hotels they had been moving between.
Vance had strung up small crystal-powered bulbs along the ceiling, their dim glow casting long, wavering shadows against the earthy walls. April, ever prepared, retrieved an inflatable bed from her spatial ring, shaking it out with practiced ease before turning toward Corbin with a playful smirk.
"Captain, why did we have to go through all of that trouble when we could've just done this from the start?" she asked, rolling out the bed. Then, holding out the nozzle toward Corbin, she batted her lashes. "Corbin, love, could you—?"
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not your personal pump. Do it yourself," Corbin grumbled, pushing the nozzle away.
April merely grinned, pressing it against his cheek, her persistence unwavering. With a resigned sigh, Corbin flicked his wrist, summoning a controlled burst of wind that flowed into the bed, inflating it in seconds.
Dante leaned against the wall, his gaze shifting toward Garrick, who had remained silent since they arrived. The tension in the room was palpable, heavy with an unspoken urgency.
"Dante," Garrick finally spoke, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the idle chatter. "The prisoner."
At his command, the earth groaned as part of the wall shifted and peeled away, revealing a figure pinned to the hardened surface. A man, his body limp, his cloak torn and stained with blood. The shadows clung to him like a second skin, but even in his unconscious state, his aura pulsed faintly—dangerous, restrained fury.
Selene let out a low whistle. "Another Ember. And this one's strong. Mid-Rank 2 at least, to have survived one of my bullets."
Corbin adjusted his glasses, his sharp gaze appraising the captive. "That only means they're starting to take us seriously."
"Which means we're getting close," Dante added, his eyes darkening. "If we can extract the right information from him, we could shut this operation down before reinforcements even arrive."
Garrick exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his head. His thoughts drifted to his last conversation with his brother—a conversation that left a sour taste in his mouth.
"That's the problem," he admitted. "We've been ordered to stand down until reinforcements arrive."
The room fell into a stunned silence, everyone exchanging sharp glances.
"What?" April's voice cut through the tension, her usual playful demeanor replaced with something far colder. "You're saying we should just sit back and do nothing? While those kids are being experimented on?"
No one spoke, but the images were already forming in their minds—frail bodies with bones pressing against thin, malnourished skin, tiny hands marred with injection marks, eyes hollowed out by unimaginable suffering.
April clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "We've seen them, Garrick. We've freed some of them. Do you know what they looked like? They weren't just scared—they were broken. Starved. Some of them could barely stand. And now you're telling me we should wait?"
Garrick met her burning gaze with quiet resolve. "I understand how you feel, April. But if the rumors of an Ashborne being here are true, then we won't stand a chance if we engage too soon."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
After a moment, Garrick turned to Vance. "How are your sparrows doing?"
Vance had been silent, his attention locked on his screen—a complex display of multiple live feeds running simultaneously. His fingers danced over the holographic interface, shifting through various surveillance points with precision.
"I've managed to triangulate several locations where their operations might be concentrated," he reported, his voice flat. But his gaze flickered toward the unconscious Ember fused into the wall. "Though… if you let me, I might be able to extract something more direct."
Garrick narrowed his eyes. "You mean—?"
Vance nodded. "Memory extraction. I can access parts of his mind and pull out key information. But you know the cost—it'll kill him."
Before Garrick could respond, April spoke, her voice sharp as a blade. "Then do it."
No hesitation. No mercy.
Garrick gave a curt nod, and Vance pulled out a sleek cylindrical device from his ring. Three needle-like points glinted at one end as he gripped the handle, his eyes darkening with the activation of his Rank 3 essence. He approached the captive, pressing the device against the base of his skull.
"Well, this is going to hurt," Vance muttered before driving the device in.
The Ember's body jerked violently, his screams ripping through the underground hideout. Electricity crackled, sending arcs of energy dancing across his skin as his mind was forcibly invaded. His eyes bulged, blood vessels rupturing as pure agony coursed through him.
The team watched, impassive, as Vance's own eyes flooded with images—scenes flashing through his mind at a dizzying pace.
He saw it.
A laboratory. Rows upon rows of beds, each one occupied by a child. Some were missing limbs, their small bodies still breathing—still alive—as tubes drained fluids from them. Others hung limply in restraints, their mouths stretched in silent screams, their eyes unfocused. And the worst—
The tubes.
Glass containment chambers filled with twisting, writhing figures, their bodies malformed, some no longer resembling children at all. Some… looked like Scions. Their skin gray and cracked, their fingers elongated into something inhuman. Their eyes burned with madness, their bodies struggling against their confines, fighting against the twisted science that had reshaped them.
Vance's breathing grew ragged, his tears falling freely as the images seared into his consciousness.
His vision blurred as the last image came into focus—a towering hospital in the heart of the city.
Then the beeping started.
His holographic screens shut down one by one until only one remained—a live aerial view of Doitand's largest hospital.
The team's eyes locked onto the screen.
Vance's voice, thick with fury, tore through the silence.
"You monsters… how far would you go?"
His rage exploded as he slammed his knuckles into the Ember's face, the shriveled man already long dead, his body barely intact. But Vance didn't stop—his knuckle brace formed over his fist as he threw another strike, obliterating what was left of the corpse.
He turned, his chest heaving, his face a twisted mask of fury as he met the stunned gazes of his team.
"That's the location."
________________________________________
Meanwhile…
Deep beneath the city, in a sterile, dimly lit lab, a scientist gazed at a containment tube filled with dark green liquid.
Inside, a Scion floated—its body eerily still, its humanoid form unsettlingly perfect.
Unlike the grotesque failures that lined the other chambers, this one was different. Its skin was smooth, its breathing steady. It was becoming something more.
A monitor beeped, the progress bar reading 80% and rising.
A manic grin spread across the scientist's face as he let out a twisted, hysterical laugh.
"Hahahaha… Finally, one that has surpassed the 80% mark without imploding."
His eyes gleamed with mad excitement.
"The perfect creation is about to be born."