A month had passed.
Thirty days of intensive training, pain endured with clenched teeth and burning muscles. Thirty days in which the word "rest" had been removed from my routine. If before my body barely responded to the touch of the training wood, now it advanced by reflex, shaped by the friction between pain and repetition.
And because of my assimilation with the Node, my tolerance for pain was very high. Therefore, I underwent intense training — both in mana management and physical combat — without caring about my body's limits.
And it wasn't out of ambition — it was out of survival.
With every page I read of the books Niryn brought, with every story whispered with devotion in the damp halls of the temple, the fate of the weak in this place became clear. Fanatics, deformed mages, children sacrificed for failing ridiculous tests… Here, survival was a form of resistance. So I resisted.
Today, for the first time since my arrival, I would go out to truly explore the sect's spaces. The facilities that, until then, I had only known through reports and rumors whispered in musty books or in Niryn's gentle voice. And, of course, she would not allow me to leave "just anyhow" .
So I stood before a mirror carved from white bone and intertwined roots, adjusting the collar of my new outfit.
He wore a shirt of thick linen, a dark green that was almost black, and over it a short, medieval-cut jacket made of heavy cloth and dyed with black resin. The edges were embroidered with oxidized silver in subtle spirals, evoking the symbol of the Node. He wore well-fitting trousers and sturdy, dark leather boots. Over this was a ceremonial tunic, simple in appearance but clearly designed for one of high rank.
"You look wonderful, master," Niryn said, her eyes shining with genuine, almost maternal pride. "Ready to show your greatness to the world."
I looked in the mirror. The reflection was no longer that of a sick boy.
My body had changed. It now looked like that of a fourteen-year-old, healthy and firm, with defined features and an upright posture. My skin was still very pale—almost translucent—but there was a strange glow to it, something that seemed vital, almost... arcane.
"I actually look nice," I muttered, adjusting a fold in my tunic. This body looks better than my old one...
The idea was absurd, but true.
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders and said in a controlled voice:
"Alright. I'm ready. Take me to the sect's courtyard first."
Niryn smiled slightly, bowing like an obedient priestess.
"Understood, master. It will be an honor."
And then, we left the room.
Walking alongside Niryn, we followed the corridors until we reached a staircase covered in long, thick roots that seemed suspended in time. As we climbed the last few steps, the light hit us—not as a blow, but as an invitation. The first natural light in days.
The sect's courtyard revealed itself before me like a landscape plucked from an ancient dream.
It was vast, jagged, but alive. The ancient black stone structures looked as if they had been built by human hands long ago. They were like the bones of some immense creature, scattered with purpose. Colossal trees lined the open space, their tops touching the sky, forming green veils through which light filtered in fragmented shafts, fluttering in the wind like ownerless prayers.
The architecture was irregular, organic—mossy blocks of stone rose in low ziggurats, adorned with reliefs depicting half-human, half-beast figures. The carved symbols looked like eyes…and for a moment, I swore they were watching me.
Hybrid statues stood silently around the courtyard. Their expressions ranged from fury to ecstasy to despair. Some seemed to laugh. Others wept soundlessly. Fountains ran silently, water channeled by runes that pulsed faintly with mana, as if the ground itself breathed.
And wherever I went, people saw me... and bowed.
"I greet the Host."
The words always came with a bow. Some were shy, some were passionate, but all were sincere. I just nodded, keeping my expression neutral. But inside... inside, it still bothered me. The respect didn't come from me—it came from what lived inside me.
The Nodule.
I walked on for a while, smelling the living earth, listening to the rustling of leaves, until I stopped in front of a garden where wildflowers bloomed between cracked stones. I sat down. I breathed. And for a moment, I was just... myself.
It was the first time in a long time that I wasn't fighting, training, or surviving. Just... existing.
I stood there for a while just relaxing and then I said.
"The research center," I muttered. "I want to see for myself what they do."
"Yes, master," Niryn replied, already moving.
We headed west across the courtyard, where a structure rose like a stone scar in the landscape. It was a massive, truncated-looking building made of limestone and obsidian, with twisted columns that met at impossible angles. Wide steps led to platforms connected by rope bridges with woven metal fibers—sturdy but rudimentary.
From the top of the temple, blue smoke came out, as if something was boiling incessantly inside.
Two acolytes guarded the entrance. They wore dark robes, with hoods that covered half their faces. When they saw me, they bowed at the same time.
"I greet the Host."
I nodded, keeping my face serene, and walked in. The door opened with a subtle creak.
At the reception, a young woman with blue hair and brown eyes waited with her hands crossed over her chest. Her beauty was real, but pale—like a flower under artificial light.
"Greetings to the Host," she said with a ceremonious smile. "It is an honor to have you here. My name is Carla. I can guide you through the research area if you wish."
Pointing to Niryn, I replied, "She will lead me."
For an instant, her eyes lost their shine as she looked at Niryn. But she only tilted her head slightly.
"As you wish, sir. If you need anything... I'll be here."
We walked through the corridors. The air here was different—thicker, colder. The dark stone walls were engraved with anatomical diagrams, alchemical formulas, and magical fusion schemes. A few lights hung from the ceiling, powered by orbs of pulsing mana. Sound was muffled, interrupted only by the dripping of viscous liquids and the distant sounds of saws, scalpels, and murmurs.
We stopped in front of a reinforced glass window.
Inside, bodies.
A man—or what was left of him—lay splayed out on an obsidian table. Three researchers surrounded him. They wore stained ritual aprons, and their hands moved with numb precision.
Organs were removed and carefully placed in jars of green liquid, where they floated. The smell, even filtered through the glass, seemed to want to penetrate the air. I saw arms being sawed off, legs being dismembered, heads being opened like rotten fruit.
But what struck me the most... was the next body.
It was swollen, covered in open sores and pustules that pulsated with a yellow-green pus. He had mutations—bony protrusions, extra fingers, duplicate jaws. An aberration. And yet... yet they treated him like a study piece. Cold, meticulous, almost reverent.
I felt my stomach turn.
But I didn't look away.
I couldn't. If I wanted to survive in this world, I needed to learn to face these things head on.
I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, forcing my mind to steady itself.
───
I watched the bodies for a few more minutes. When I finally looked away, I turned to Niryn and said, in a low but firm voice:
"Show me the parasitology department."
She nodded, and replied with the same reverence as always:
"Of course, master."
We followed a side corridor, less lit, where the walls gave off the smell of chemicals, rust and old meat. The path narrowed before opening up again into a vaulted hall, where the air felt... more humid.
Inside the room were glass tanks filled with a viscous greenish liquid. In it, bodies floated—men, elves, beastmen. Some still had recognizable features... others did not.
There were beings so deformed that one could barely distinguish their eyes from their wounds. Exposed bones had fused to chitinous plates, fingers had elongated like dry tentacles, and mouths opened in places where mouths should not have been. The veins—where there were still veins—pulsed erratically, as if they were pumping something that wasn't blood.
In the center of the room, on polished stone tables, were still-living creatures: wolves and ravens, bound by runic chains and restraining spells. One of the researchers, wearing a white robe stained dark green, approached one of the cages. Inside, a gray-furred wolf snarled, held by its front paws.
The researcher didn't hesitate. He injected the animal into the base of its neck, which quickly softened like a soaked cloth. Then he went to a shelf and took out a cylindrical vial of thick liquid. Inside, something floated and... moved.
It was a parasite. Coiled in on itself, it pulsed slowly, with fibrous, translucent skin, where small yellow "eyes" could be seen scattered around. A needle-like appendage extended from one end.
With clinical calm, the researcher opened the wolf's abdomen, removing the organs with hooks and tweezers. Then he inserted the parasite between the exposed ribs, as if planting a seed in fertile soil. When he released the animal, the creature dove inside as if it had heard the call.
The wolf shivered.
For a few seconds, everything was silent. And then... it began.
First, spines sprouted from its spine, pushing the skin outward with wet snaps. Then its eyes multiplied—three on its cheek, two on the back of its neck, one poking straight through its gums. Teeth sprouted from the sides of its tongue, while its paws grew larger and more muscular.
It let out a howl and tried to attack the researchers, but the runes on the ground lit up, immobilizing it. Still, the creature struggled—an amalgam of pain, instinct, and hunger.
But the worst... was yet to come.
Another experiment was taking place on the other side of the room. This time, the recipient was not an animal. It was a man.
I was conscious.
Sitting, with his arms and legs tied by runic chains, the man trembled. Thin, with sunken eyes, he seemed to have already accepted his own death.
The researcher next to him wore a hand-sewn leather mask. He silently took out a syringe filled with black liquid and injected it into the man's neck.
Minutes passed.
And then veins began to bulge. Suddenly, thin, wet buds sprouted from beneath the skin of his neck, moving slowly like worms trying to emerge. The skin on his face stretched. The man's eyes rolled back, his mouth opened…and something inside him smiled .
His tongue stretched out of his mouth. Not like a muscle—but like a fleshy, forking root. The teeth began to fall out, replaced by jagged spines. And without warning, he started screaming. But the sound came from the belly.
From within the abdomen, a second mouth opened.
I forced myself to look.
I have to see. I need to learn to face this.
The creature, still trapped, struggled, trying to tear its bonds with its parasitic tongue. But the researchers immobilized it efficiently, applying more spells until it calmed down.
I remained silent for a few seconds, hearing only the muffled sound of something creaking—bones that no longer fit together properly.
So I took a deep breath.
I forced myself to stand firm, even as the taste of bile rose in my throat. My entire body wanted to retreat...but my mind knew: this was just the beginning .
"Let's get out of here," I muttered.
"Yes, master," Niryn replied, with a slight bow.
We walked out of the room. When the doors closed behind me, the fresh air felt almost unreal. But what was real, truly... was the certainty that grew in my mind:
I've almost thrown up more than once, but it doesn't matter. I know I'll see worse horrors yet—and maybe even bring them on myself. So I need to be strong. And I need allies I can trust…because I can't endure this place alone.
I turned to Niryn, her voice firm and dry:
"Take me to the accommodation."
"Yes, master."
And we move on — one step at a time.