CHAPTER 304: CHAPTER 303 - THE MADMAN’S NEW EXPERIMENT.

Two days later.

Far from the Vaise territory and the Velmoria Kingdom.

Deep beneath the fractured cobblestone streets of Hector Kingdom, in tunnels no map dared acknowledge, the air reeked of salt and rusted iron.

Fluorescent-blue lamps hummed, illuminating rows of crude cages where broken men and women lay slumped, their eyes hollow, their skin pale from too many injections and not enough hope.

At the heart of the cavernous chamber stood a laboratory cobbled together from stolen scraps—glass tubes stitched with copper wires, stone slabs inlaid with glowing glyphs, and jars filled with fluids that whispered when no one listened.

At the center of all this, hunched over a rust-colored workbench, was the man who owned it all.

His head was too large for his body, a smooth dome gleaming under the light, veins pulsing faintly beneath the thin skin. His eyes—bulging and glowing faintly green—twitched as they darted between the charts on his desk and the glass tank looming at his back.

Inside that tank floated a boy’s body.

Pale. Perfectly preserved. Hair drifting like seaweed in the thick, translucent liquid.

It wasn’t a living body but a vessel created by the doctor.

If one looked closely at it, the face of the boy in the tank matched Zephyr’s.

The man’s lips curled into a grin too wide to be sane.

He rubbed his gloved hands together, muttering as though lecturing an audience only he could see.

"It’s been four days... More than four days of silence... since you twitched!" His laugh cracked, rising and falling like broken glass. "Ahhh, I knew this would work. I knew I could revive you. You never trusted me enough, did you?"

He paced around the tank, his long coat dragging across the floor, frayed at the edges from years of careless use. "I had to keep this a secret from you, but I’m sure you would be surprised and maybe even compliment me!"

After a few steps, he leaned close to the glass, whispering like a lover, "You were always wasted on that family. But me? Hehehe... oh, with me, you’ll be magnificent."

His finger brushed against the glass tube as he stared at Zephyr’s face inside. "Do you hear me, Zephyr? You were dying, but because I had already bound you to this body, you couldn’t. I gave you a second chance to live!"

Then, his grin widened and his body trembled as he rasped, "Soon, you’ll thank me! You’ll look at me with eyes that aren’t filled with condescension but gratitude!"

Though he still found it strange that Zephyr was taking so long to wake up.

’No matter how injured his body was, there’s no way his soul was damaged, so why isn’t he awake?’ He rubbed his chin, but as he noticed the twitch in Zephyr’s fingers, he shrugged.

"Whatever. I’m sure he will wake up soon."

Behind him, one of the caged prisoners stirred. "M-Monster... you can’t... that’s unnatural—"

The man’s head snapped toward the voice, grin widening into a leer. "Oh, I know. Unnatural. Unholy. Unstoppable."

With a flick of his hand, a glyph flared on the cage. The prisoner’s body jerked, convulsed, and fell still, smoke curling from his lips.

"See?" The man clapped his hands like a teacher rewarding himself. "No interruptions. Science must breathe!"

He spun back toward the tank, his eyes gleaming.

For a long moment, silence reigned—only the hum of the lamps, the gurgle of bubbling tubes, and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling broke it.

Then, just when he was about to turn around and return to his work—

Thump.

A faint vibration rippled through the glass.

The man froze. His grin widened into trembling laughter. "Oooohhh... Yes. Yes, yes, yes. That’s it. Come on, Zephyr. Show me."

Thump-thump.

The corpse inside the fluid twitched, fingers curling slightly, then snapping open. Silver eyes, dull for days, flickered beneath closed lids.

The glass trembled.

"No, no, don’t rush. Breathe, Zephyr. Feel it. You’re mine now. Mine!"

The boy’s chest expanded sharply. His eyes snapped open—burning with silver light.

CRACK!

The reinforced tank splintered, spiderweb fractures racing across its surface.

The man pressed close, unblinking, saliva wetting his grin. "Yes... Yes, break it. Break me. Break the world! Hahahaha—"

SHATTER!

The tank exploded outward, shards and liquid drenching the floor in a tidal wave.

Zephyr fell forward, gasping, his violet eyes glowing like stars. His scream tore through the underground, primal and unearthly.

The madman clapped, tears of joy streaming down his too-wide face.

"My beautiful experiment... my reborn prince of ruin. Welcome back, Zephyr Von Vaise!"

Zephyr, still somewhat dizzy, stood up slowly.

Shards of glass crunched under his bare feet as he dragged in a sharp breath, lungs burning from a life he shouldn’t have.

His violet eyes, luminous and new, swept the chamber.

There were rows of cages. Corpses that weren’t quite corpses. Glyphs that pulsed like veins carved into stone.

It was grotesque, yet familiar.

Slowly, he lowered his gaze to himself. His naked form glistened with fluid, pale but unmarred, every muscle corded tighter than his last body. He frowned, jaw clenching.

The madman was already bustling toward him, giggling with the delight of a child opening presents.

From under a desk, he pulled out folded black clothes—a tunic, trousers, and boots—and held them aloft as if presenting a crown.

"Clothe yourself, Zephyr! Can’t have the world’s ruin walking around indecent!" His grin was stretched so wide his skin creased like cracked porcelain.

Zephyr snatched the clothes without a word, his eyes narrowing.

He dressed slowly, each movement deliberate, every fiber of his being resisting the urge to tear the lunatic apart right then and there.

When he was done, he finally spoke. His voice was raw and raspy, yet carried the weight of command.

"...Dr. Vorun."

The madman froze mid-grin, then quivered with joy at the sound of his name. "Ahh! You remembered!"

Zephyr’s silver-violet eyes burned into him. "What did you do to me?"

Vorun’s shoulders shook as he laughed, spreading his arms wide like a priest at an altar.

"I saved you, of course! You were nothing but a corpse, rotting on the stage of your failure. But I pulled you back! This body—" he gestured toward Zephyr’s chest with manic pride, "—is better than what you were born with. No royal chains, no fragile limits. My masterpiece. Stronger than my Siris. Stronger than any of them."

Siris. It was a name Zephyr couldn’t forget, as she, who was supposed to be his, had become Raven’s.

Silence stretched as he flexed his hands, testing.

Power surged within—unfamiliar yet intoxicating. The soul-core of this vessel burned differently, raw and sharp.

He had a plate-five frame, yet he was already capable of matching plate-sixes. His lips curved faintly, but it wasn’t a smile.

He was satisfied with the body, but that didn’t mean he was happy with the situation.

"...You touched my soul without permission," he said quietly, voice thick with restrained fury. "You dragged me here and played with what was mine. Tell me, Vorun—how will you compensate for using me as an experiment?"

His violet eyes snapped up, cold. "You’ll pay for that with your life."

He stepped forward but stopped almost immediately. His limbs froze mid-stride, as though invisible chains had bound them. The grin never left Vorun’s face.

"What... did you do?" Zephyr hissed.

The madman’s pupils flared sickly green as he leaned closer, voice dripping with ecstasy. "This time, you’re not the master."

Zephyr’s heart slammed in his chest, fury crackling across his aura as he strained against nothingness.

Vorun’s grin widened further, impossibly wide. "I am. I copied the mysterious trick of your oh-so-sacred royal bloodlines. Just as they command the Vaise people with words, I bound you with design. You can’t harm me. You can’t resist me. You are mine."

Zephyr’s fists trembled.

"Why?" He spat. "Why go this far?"

The doctor pressed a hand to his chest, eyes wild with rapture. "Because I love you, Zephyr! Together—your mind, my brain—we will conquer this rotting world. You will stand as its face, its king, and I its architect!"

He spread his arms to the cages, to the twitching experiments that lined the walls. "This is the dawn of our empire!"

It was then that a voice, cold and sharp as a blade, cut the air in half.

"...Isn’t that too big a dream?"

The words echoed, unnatural in the humming silence.

Both Zephyr and Vorun turned, eyes snapping toward the shadowed archway at the far end of the chamber.

Two figures stepped into the light of the flickering blue lamps.

The first was cloaked in black chains of faint gold light, eyes steady and unreadable.

It was Raven.

Beside him, her daggers glinted in the pale glow as Siris walked silently, her expression a frozen mask, her presence darker than the chamber itself.

For the first time, she didn’t smile, nor did she speak.

But one could tell that her silence was the promise of blood.