I was momentarily taken aback, as if the question was not only directed at me, but at my entire past. But the doubt lasted less than a second. I clenched my fist, inhaled, and confidently pressed:
[ Yes ]
The system rang softly, like a bell. Zikei, Elk, and Aka-32 also confirmed their participation without further ado, their choice unanimous.
The little girl Maraina clapped her hands happily, as if playing a childish game, but her eyes suddenly became too old.
A calm, warm glow rose around her, like moonlight on water.
The space around them began to darken. The air thickened, as if someone were unrolling the film of an old movie, and the cutscene began. Even Katzu, who was watching through the connected video channel, fell silent.
His camera was recording everything live, but he was sitting with his mouth open, as if he were watching a game clip rather than a person's memory.
[ Era: The Golden Age ]
A time when human civilization had yet to experience a collapse. When alchemy and magic were not follies, but the foundation of the world. When people could argue with the gods and sometimes win.
A picture slowly came into view. Vast marshes bathed in golden sunset light. Steam rising from the green water. Wooden walkways leading to a glass and copper building that looked like a greenhouse and a temple at the same time.
It was a Laboratory. Where nature and knowledge were intertwined so closely that it was impossible to say which one dominated the other.
There lived two alchemist-researchers, a man and a woman. They were not magicians in the classical sense, but rather understood the world through blood, cells, breathing, and tissue growth.
They studied the vital energy, the very essence of existence, seeking ways to enhance the body, making it more durable, pure, and free from disease and suffering.
And among the glass vessels and the wandering lights of the alchemical lamps...Maraina grew up.
Their daughter, in the memory, looked a little younger than the one sitting on the stump.
Her hair was shorter, and she had dried marsh flowers woven into it. She walked barefoot on the floor, which was warm from the alchemical lamps.
The world seemed endless to her, with its glass walls, light, and scents, and books so high that even a stool couldn't reach the top shelves.
But she wasn't alone; Nemorrino was running around her feet. A small, plump piglet with white and pink skin and soft ears that stuck out when he listened.
A bright ribbon hung around his neck, a gift from his father: "So he would never get lost."
Maraina laughed as only children who don't know the word "loss" can laugh.
Her parents leave through the door, her mother fixes her hair:
—We'll be back soon, sweetheart.
Her father bends down and playfully pokes Nemorrino's snout:
—Make sure he doesn't start a revolution here.
They both smile and are sure that the world ahead is long and kind. Before leaving, the mother still turns around and says what all parents say, but almost always in vain:
—Just don't touch anything on the table, okay?
The girl nods honestly and the doors close, leaving only silence where only the lamps hum, the glass rings from the wind from the swamp.
But children don't know how to wait. And they certainly don't know how to sit still for a long time.
Maraina, not waiting even five minutes, leaned forward, closed her eyes, and clapped her hands loudly.
—Nemorrino, let's play!
The piglet, as if he had been waiting for this moment, let out a squeak of delight and took off, a pink and white arrow among the glass tubes and bundles of herbs. His tail curled into a ring as he ran, and his hooves slapped against the stone floor, leaving tiny wet prints.
He ran in circles, and she laughed. Then they played a game of tag, and Nemorrino ran so fast that he seemed ready to fly.
Then "catch the tail" the girl caught his ribbon, and he wagged his snout and broke away, and in the next instant hide and seek.
Warm children's laughter and joyful grunting echoed through the warm, herb-scented laboratory.
And everything would have been as always, if not for that table. The one she had promised not to touch.
Tall as a tower, cold metal, smooth and austere. On it were flasks, retorts, jars, and vials filled with liquids that glowed and pulsed as if they were alive.
Green, amber, milky, each color seemed to breathe. Maraina knew that she shouldn't touch it. She knew that it was "important." "Dangerous." "Not for play."
But the piglet didn't know, and it ran past the table, too close. Its hoof slipped on the smooth stone. It let out a short, surprised squeak and hit its side and head against the metal edge.
The sound was muffled, small, but loud in the silence. The flasks clinked softly at first, then louder. It was as if a whole choir of tiny glass bells began to tremble.
One flask, the one with the viscous green liquid that glowed as if a swamp sun were walking inside it, wobbled.
Maraina froze, her hands raised to her lips. The flask began to fall too slowly. It was as if time had decided to give her a chance, not to save her, but to give her time to realize.
—It's too late!
The flask hit the floor and shattered.
At first, Maraina thought nothing had happened.
Nemorrino, with a sniff, only rubbed his face with his paw, as if to brush away the strange smell. He grunted softly, as he always did, and looked at the girl with the same trusting, round eyes.
—It's all right.
She whispered, and carefully picked him up.
But a few minutes later, something went wrong.
First, small blisters appeared on his skin, like nettle burns. They appeared slowly, one by one, and burst, leaving painful dark spots.
Then his body began to change. First, his breathing became slightly heavier, then his paws began to tremble, and his skin darkened as if it had been touched by swamp mud.
But the worst part was his eyes, which had always been kind, funny, and sparkling with joy, but now glowed with a swampy, dense light. It was like the light of a deep place where the sun never shines.
Nemorrino let out a squeak, but there was no joy in it. He tried to hide under the table, behind the chest, in the corner, as if he was afraid of what was happening to him.
And Maraina, small and frightened, just stood there and screamed.
—Mom!! Dad!! Quickly!! Please!!
—He didn't want to! It's me! It's my fault!!
Please help him!
But no one came.
Her scream echoed between the flasks and the iron racks, reflecting in the glass, returning to her with an empty echo. When the laboratory door finally opened, it was too late.
The parents froze in horror, seeing their child in tears and the creature that had once been their daughter's friend.
The mutagen had not only affected his body; it had seeped deeper, into his very soul. It had altered the very foundation of his being and his DNA.
The alchemists rushed to work, mixing solutions and formulating equations. They whispered prayers to the old gods and muttered spells to the new ones.
They gave Nemorrino a potion that was supposed to cleanse him, but it only made things worse.