As Val reached the outer edge of the facility, a bone-chilling sense of being watched prickled at his skin, sinking its way into his mind with insistent unease. The air around him felt dense, heavy with something unspoken, something waiting. It was as though the darkness here was alive, pressing in on him from all sides, making the very act of breathing feel thick and strained.
He stopped, his senses instinctively sharpening, his eyes scanning the shadows that seemed to breathe and shift around him. His skin tingled, as though icy needles pressed into him from all angles.
"Deleo," he whispered in his mind, his voice a thread of sound amidst the smothering silence. "Did you feel that? Someone's watching."
Deleo's presence answered him almost immediately, a steady and quiet force within.
"I felt it, too. It's the Void-tainted ones—the failed experiments. They sense my presence, faintly. Those corrupted fragments give them a twisted connection to the Void, but it's diluted. They can't truly detect us. You're safe for now."
Val nodded slightly, exhaling in relief as some of the tension in his muscles released, though the weight of the darkness pressed down like a smothering fog. Each step toward the exit was measured, and he glided soundlessly, the shadows blurring around him.
He was almost at the perimeter when Deleo's voice sharpened, slicing through his thoughts. "Wait, Val."
Val froze, his pulse quickening as Deleo's presence shifted, growing insistent.
"Something's down that hallway," Deleo murmured, a mix of urgency and dread lacing his tone. "Behind that door."
Val turned, glancing down the corridor. A wave of cold seemed to emanate from it, the shadows there darker, more foreboding. The air carried an acidic tang, foul and metallic, a stench that gnawed at the edges of his senses.
Taking a slow, steadying breath, Val allowed the ancient power within him to guide him forward, his footsteps barely disturbing the thick silence around him.
He reached the door, his hand hovering just above the latch. With a ripple of Void energy, he teleported to the other side, leaving no trace of his entry.
Inside, the air was stifling, stale and oppressive, carrying a weight that seemed to sink into his bones. Shadows stretched across the floor like grasping claws, twisting and writhing in the dim light. The room was thick with a fetid, metallic scent that clung to his skin, as if the air itself was tainted with something ancient and defiled. He could almost taste it—an acrid bitterness that clawed at his throat.
His gaze adjusted to the dark, and as the scene came into focus, his breath caught. His eyes widened, the sight before him an assault on every sense, a horror that froze him in place.
In the center of the room stood an upright iron frame. Hooked to the metal with thick, rusted clamps were the pale, ancient bones of a figure draped in remnants of armor. The skeletal remains bore markings, runes, symbols scrawled into the very bone—gruesome incantations that pulsed with a faint, sickly glow.
He knew that uniform, have seen it countless times, reliving it as him, knew those markings with a gut-wrenching clarity.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
It was Reinhart Bellator—his ancestor, displayed like some ghastly relic, a twisted artifact desecrated and stripped of all honor.
The air around the bones hummed with the remnants of powerful, decayed energy, a thick miasma that pressed in on him, filling his lungs with each shallow breath he took. Each bone bore evidence of brutal violence—deep, jagged fractures on the ribs, a harsh split that ran across the skull, like an echo of a fatal blow. Val felt as if the room itself was alive with the echoes of his ancestor's suffering.
Val's chest tightened, and the ground seemed to waver beneath him. The entire room felt saturated with anger, betrayal, and power twisted beyond recognition. He could feel it permeating his senses, pulling at him, urging him to turn away—but he couldn't. "Deleo… what is this?"
The silence that followed was profound.
But then, like a dark wave crashing against his mind, a surge of raw emotion burst from within—grief, rage, helplessness. It hit him like a physical blow, flooding his senses, each emotion sharper and colder than the last. He staggered back, gasping as Deleo's overwhelming fury rippled through his body, seizing his lungs, his heart, every fiber of his being.
"Deleo, hold it together," he choked out, his voice strangled as Deleo's emotions continued to pulse, raw and uncontrolled. "Control it… you're choking me."
The rage lessened, ebbing slightly, though Val still felt it coiled in the background, a seething undercurrent that left his skin tingling with unease.
"I… I apologize, Val," Deleo's voice came, strained and heavy, an emotion Val had never sensed in him before.
"To see Reinhart… like this… I never thought—" He faltered, the words dying, replaced by a sense of grief so profound it reverberated through Val, leaving him unsteady.
Val steadied himself, forcing air into his lungs as he fought to regain control. He had never known Deleo to express anything this visceral. Deleo's presence, usually calm and calculated, was fractured, laced with emotions that Val hadn't thought possible from such an ancient force.
Back at HQ, the live feed continued, capturing every ghastly detail. The room had fallen into a shocked silence. Operators, who had faced some of the darkest scenes in warfare, stared in horror.
The image of Reinhart's broken remains projected across the screens was grotesque and jarring, each viewing angle emphasizing the ruinous desecration. Some of the staff covered their mouths, others turned away, unable to stomach the sight.
Ember stood at the front, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the screen. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck taut with barely contained rage. His fists shook, white-knuckled with fury, and with a low, muffled crack, the device in his grip shattered. The splintering plastic and metal fell to the floor, and he made no move to acknowledge it.
Dr. Lewis stepped closer to the screen, his face ashen. The weight of what they were seeing sank into him, a realization that left his eyes dark with sorrow and anger. He understood what Reinhart's remains meant to the Bellator line, to the legacy the family had protected for centuries. The desecration before them was beyond comprehension—a brutal degradation of everything Reinhart had once been.
In a tone layered with fury, Ember's voice echoed across the Mind Link, sharp and unyielding.
Val, that's enough. We've seen enough. Get out of there. Now.
Val, feeling the intensity of Ember's command, gave one last look around the room, capturing every detail—the rusted restraints, the glowing runes etched into his ancestor's bones, the foul residue that clung to the walls like a toxic fog.
Understood, he replied, his voice tight with the same mingling of sorrow and fury. He turned and moved toward the door, cloaking himself in shadows as he made his way to the exit.
As he neared the outer wall, Deleo's voice murmured in his mind, low and strained. "They defiled his bones… these people, they can't comprehend the power they've meddled with. They don't deserve mercy."
Val's grip on his weapon tightened, a grim determination flashing in his eyes. "They won't get any."
Ember's voice cut through once more, harsh and unyielding. Keep moving.
With one final, lingering glance at the twisted remains of the facility, Val gathered his energy, shadows coiling around him as he focused on returning to HQ, bringing with him the devastating knowledge of the horrors he had witnessed.