The two fools had already began dragging Callum out into the well-lit corridor, chair and all. By now, Callum was able to see what the two silhouettes truly looked like, but the two men only continued to ruin his comprehension of the situation again. Further adding to his confusion was the fact that the two were both grubby and crude in appearance, while the hallway was quite pretty, with white stone tiles for flooring and chandeliers overhead.

The scuff marks left on tiles from the chair, however, were not so pretty. Testament to the sheer ignorance of the two men, the scuffing and scratching went completely unnoticed by them. Eventually, Callum was dragged much further down the hall, and into a new room.

The room was quite plain, even more so when compared to the expensive-looking corridor. If anything stuck out at all, it would have to be that there was a window that spanned the entire length of one wall. On the other side of this glass was an old man, who had smiled eerily at Callum when they noticed one another. After the chair was dragged to the center of the room, the two fools left without another word.

And then, it was back to waiting. Callum quickly found that, in comparison to this new period of waiting, he much preferred the dark and silent room from earlier. His skin seemed to crawl as he felt the almost lecherous gaze of the wizened old man upon him. The discomfort from being bound and immobile quickly became second only to the sense of perversion that radiated from the old man.

After a while of staring at Callum, the old man began to speak to some scraggly assistants behind him, his voice slow and weak, and completely inaudible through the sheet of glass.

“Subject appears discontent but calm. Presumably sane. We will now conduct the first exposure. We will be using a high concentration in order to compensate for the fact that the subject has not undergone the breaking of will and character. Open the vents to the room completely.”

The assistants were alarmed, one of them going as far as to cry out to the old man. “But… But, sir! If we open the vents fully, the amount of Mind Alter that would be wasted would be —”

“It would be astronomical, yes, yes. I’m very excited to see just what will happen when someone breathes in that much of the gas.” The old man said, with a devilish grin. He flicked his tongue across his lips in a crude and perverse manner, and chuckled softly. “Will he go absolutely mad? Perhaps he’ll even die. Now, close the vents and release the gas.” He frowned. "Hopefully he doesn't explode. I detest the filth."

Soon after, a strange purple gas flooded the room, filling it quickly. It was thick, so thick that it blocked out the light entirely. Callum quickly discovered that the gas tasted and smelled rancid, like a gaseous combination of mold and rot. Not long after, he felt the pain cause by every breath. The pain had coursed through his body as the sensation of burning spread throughout his respiratory system, like a fire had been lit within his chest and throat. His eyes began to water and become bloodshot, and he quickly began to have coughing spasms.

Blood curdling screams forced their way out of Callum as he began to try to escape his bindings once more. He struggled in desperation, to no avail, instead only serving to quicken his inhalation of the gas. His breathing grew more and more ragged, and his coughing spasms became more and more frequent.

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It seemed as though an eternity had passed before the room emptied of the gas. Somehow, Callum had managed to maintain his consciousness, albeit just barely. Even so, it was quite the surprise to the old man and his assistants, who had assumed the amount of gas released might even be fatal.

Callum watched, eyes still red and watery, as the old man talked shortly with the assistants, and then led them out of the room. He sat in his chair, limp and weak, breathing heavily. He waited patiently for the interrogation, for them to ask him questions.

Eventually, a young man came in. Callum steeled himself, preparing to laugh and mock the man when he began the questioning. However, the man simply forced Callum to drink some water before leaving. For an entire day, nobody else came.

The next day, when the old man and his troupe of assistants returned, he appraised Callum with his disgusting eyes for a while, and then released the gas once more. This time, it lasted even longer, leaving Callum teetering on the verge of losing consciousness. After observing some more, the old man left again. Once more, a young man entered the room and forced Callum to drink water.

The cycle continued once more. For three days now, they had forced him to breathe in the putrid tasting gas, and then to drink. Callum was in great amounts of pain. Between the damage done to his lungs and the pangs of hunger, he had very little energy to even support himself. He sat limp in the chair, appearing almost lifeless.

On the fourth day, the old man and his assistants never showed up, only the young man with the water. It seems that tomorrow is the day that they’ll begin the questioning, Callum thought. Although he was starving, Callum remained determined. After suffering from the gas three times without so much as a single question, he had long since decided that he wouldn’t let these bastards get their way.

…

The old man stood before a desk in a large and otherwise barren room. Behind the desk sat a very wealthy man in very bright purple clothing, his chin resting on his clasped hands. The nobleman’s eyes were closed, with a calm expression on his face as he listened to the old man’s report.

“There has been little to no results from the usage of the Mind Alter, despite prolonged exposure. Evidence has lead me to believe that subject has a tolerance or perhaps resistance to the gas.

“The only results seem to be physical irritation of a magnitude that is illogical for the amount of gas released. This is one of the biggest indicators of the aforementioned resistance, not to mention the absence of a psychological effect.”

The old man’s eyes very practically sparkling as he spoke. “I have never come across a case like this. This young man might be one of a kind, if I can perform an examination of his organs, especially his brain, it might be —”

“Enough. Even if I allowed you to examine him, there’s nothing you can even hope to change about the Mind Alter. It’s not something our plane’s magic can hope to interfere with. It’s best if we get rid of the boy before he complicates anything.... Do not reveal the results of this with anyone else. It could very easily have a negative impact on the Crusade.” The nobleman sighed, lowering his hands to the desk. Perhaps it’s for the best that those two morons captured him. Who knows what might have happened if we let him into the Crusade with such an unfathomable resistance to the Mind Alter. He tapped his fingers against the desk a few times before speaking once more. “Send him to the Room of Sacrifice. It seems that’s the only use we’ll get out of him.”

“As you insist, Head Priest.”

"But still, to think that there's someone that has a resistance to the Dark Beyond. This could have some very negative implications for our plans. It's best we take this possibility into account from now on. I expect more caution to be taken in your efforts of converting the... less willing recruits." The nobleman gave the old man a pointed look.

"Of course, Head Priest. It will be done."