In the dim, steel corridors of the underground Hellkin base, the air was tense. The heavy door to the central command room slammed open as Nicolas stormed in, eyes blazing with fury.
"You idiots!" he shouted. "Of all the children in the world, you had to kidnap the Duke's daughter?"
The room fell into a stunned silence as the Hellkins stood frozen, unsure of what to say.
Nicolas's voice trembled with barely suppressed rage. "You think this is just some ordinary girl? Do you have any idea what you've done? After kidnapping her, you bring her here, to our main base? What next? Do you want to blow this place to hell?"
The Hellkins shifted nervously under his glare. They had made a mistake—a grave one.
One of them finally found the courage to speak. "Sir… we followed the orders. We were to collect unawakened children for the experiments. The girl saw us and attacked. We had no choice but to knock her out and take her with us. It was only after we returned that we discovered who she was."
Nicolas clenched his fists. His mind raced with the implications. The Duke of Blackspire was not a man to cross—certainly not lightly. He was once mocked for his low-rank status, the shadowed brother in a noble lineage, but he had defied every expectation. With nothing but sheer intellect, he had climbed the ranks, outsmarting everyone, even defeating his own brother to earn the prestigious title of Duke.
But it wasn't his rise that truly defined him—it was his daughter.
Elira.
A child he adored more than anything. Her awakening had been nothing short of extraordinary. She manifested as an S-Rank wielder, a prodigy possessing both Light and Wood elemental magic—a rare and powerful combination. Her potential was enormous, and her father knew it. After a lifetime of ridicule, Duke Elion swore his daughter would never endure what he had. She would be protected. Honored. Feared.
And now she was in their hands.
Nicolas rubbed his temple, trying to hold back the panic clawing at his chest.
"What element does she have?" he asked quickly.
"Wood and Light, sir," the Hellkin replied. "That's why we thought she'd be suitable for the experiment."
Nicolas's eyes gleamed with sudden excitement. "Wood and Light…" he muttered. "A perfect candidate. I want to see her."
He marched through the base with two Hellkins at his side. They descended deeper, past locked gates and winding passages, until they reached the lowest chamber—a cold, damp place filled with stolen children. The room reeked of metal and magic suppressors. And at the far end, a particular girl sat on the ground, her wrists bound with cuffs that suppressed mana.
"Her," one of the Hellkins said, pointing.
Nicolas approached. She looked about nine years old, with piercing blue eyes and snow-white hair. There was an elegance in her posture, even chained. She stared at him, unafraid.
"Oh," Nicolas said, crouching beside her. "You're beautiful now… I can only imagine how stunning you'll be when you grow up. There won't be a boy in the world who could resist you."
Elira's eyes narrowed. "You disgust me."
Nicolas chuckled. "What a heartless thing to say to your uncle. And here I was, thinking of letting you talk to your father."
Elira's jaw clenched. "Even if you return me to him, I won't forgive you. You will pay for what you're doing to these children. Every one of you."
Nicolas raised an eyebrow. "Fiery little thing, aren't you? You must get that temper from your mother. Not your father. He was always the quiet genius."
He leaned in. "Tell me, did he ever tell you to keep your nature magic hidden? To never reveal it in public?"
Elira's expression turned to stone.
"That's what I thought," Nicolas continued. "Because your Wood magic… is the kind elves are known for. And your father has spent a long time making sure that little secret stayed buried."
Elira said nothing. She knew he was right. Her father warned her, again and again, never to use her true nature in public. It would draw attention. Dangerous attention.
"Let's go," Nicolas said, standing. "We'll discuss everything in the upper chamber. Come now, Miss Elira."
Reluctantly, Elira rose. She knew she had no choice. He knew her secret. For now, she had to play along.
"She really is his daughter," Nicolas muttered with a smirk, watching her calm obedience. He turned and led the way out.
Elsewhere in the base, deep in a monitoring room, Lior—the assistant to Nicolas—was on a private encrypted call.
"Leader," Lior whispered into the device, "this is our chance. Before they realize what's happening."
A voice crackled on the other end. "You're certain, Lior? What does your instinct tell you?"
Lior didn't hesitate. "100% success rate, sir."
The voice chuckled softly. "Such confidence… I'll send the signal to everyone."
A pause.
"And the experiment? Any progress?"
Lior sighed. "No, sir. Same as three months ago. Only eight survivors so far. They'll move to stage four in two days. The new serum—it damages the brain, keeps them alive but erases who they are. The chips we've implanted will control them completely."
He clenched his jaw. "Sir… we have to save them. Before it's too late."
The leader responded with calm certainty. "Don't worry, Lior. We're not the same as we were two years ago. You'll be surprised when you see what we've become. And… what about him?"
Lior's tone shifted. "Liam? Nothing new. Last I heard, he's still in the capsule field. Six months ago, submerged in Orc aura and infused with various chemicals. Even Nicolas stopped talking about him."
"Do you think Nicolas lost interest?" the leader asked.
"I'm not sure," Lior replied. "Maybe he's hiding something. Or maybe Liam really is forgotten. But if he becomes what Nicolas once predicted… he could be the greatest weapon the world has ever seen."