"Changeling? Is that some sort of distraction? Alright, but you won't escape answering my questions. ESPECIALLY WHY THERE ARE TWO OF YOU AND ONE IS IN MY HEAD! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"
The Cerulean Baroness gets serious, "We don't have time for this. I will explain to you the broad strokes of it. My mission was to create a being similar to the changelings of the Megistangelos family; the only thing I had was the biological data of one of them, and obviously this ritual."
The hologram opened its arms wide, "It is said that this temple was the origin of the first Megistangelos, the first of the Changeling families to surpass their natural limit, using the power of a Primordial God"
A flash of inspiration assaulted Roberion; he remembered what he saw in the temple, "I saw some drawings in an ancient dome; it was broken, but a saw, what you call an elf; he had more arms and eyes; the drawing showed he was fighting the undead. He was a Megistangelos?"
"Not exactly; this temple is older than the first Megistangelos; the only thing we know for sure is that their lineage possibly started here. Even though that information is unreliable, we know that they made a pact with the Primordial God of Bones, and we know that this is one."
Roberion looked with curiosity as some The Gentlemen moved, getting away, seemingly going to do some task. The Cerulean Baronesses continued, "This Primordial God seemed interested in their race; all of them are prone to choosing a main race to offer their boons. He wasn't the only one; for all we know, only the Megistangelos accepted him; the other families chose different primordial deities or chose to remain without any bond. I saw the scan of that drawing; he could be, as you said, an elf, but he also could be a changeling; honestly, there are many species with the traits that drawing has."
"But enough with that. If we keep on this topic, I waste too much of my time saying that I don't know much about it because this knowledge is risky and confidential. Even to me, I only know enough to create you, a mimicry of their power. My mission was to create a Megistangelos to further the knowledge of their species for the Empire of Creation. My next experiment would be to study you and try to assimilate the best traits you have in one of the Emperor's Children, one of his chosen. But they took a risk with me, giving me autonomy and a greater directive: creating the perfect being."
Losing her composure completely, she starts to laugh. Roberion gets a little uncertain of the hologram sanity, or, let's say, the artificial being mind, almost enough to question her copy in his brain. The one in my brain is probably crazier.
The Cerulean Baroness soon stops, "I can't divulge more information until you tell me the passcode. Neither will I let you leave until you do so."
"Is that sort of a trap?", Roberion asks with suspicion. They always are. Talking about traps. My, let's say, hunger for that drug has lessened; I still feel it, but I can bear it for now. Soon, I think I will need a dose, or it can become more than a craving.
"Humpf. I already said that we don't have time for this", she says loudly and seriously soon after, "You are just a prototype, a fake creation; you want to get freedom? Fine. Try to leave; even if, by miracle, you leave, you will soon be caged and sold as a slave or, worse, a guineapig. Oh yes, even death wouldn't give you freedom; even if your mind breaks, it can be rebuilt. Outside isn't paradise; it's purgatory; for you, a null, it's hell. Outside, you can look like a changeling, but as soon as they see you are a plant unrooted, they will use you for their hearts content. You—"
Roberion's suspicion gave way to impatience, "Is that a threat? Just do it then; I'm fed up—"
"How can you be so pityingly stupid and naive?! Why did I implant a copy of myself in your brain? To guide your witless self. It could be anyone of the participants, and they all would need my guidance, telling their family? Their boss? Trying to leverage with a changeling family for some benefits? All stupid ideas with a low probability of my directive being achieved. You are the surviving participant, a necessity born of my need to follow rules. You are my result; I will give everything I can offer. Didn't you get confused about why I would let you still exist? I could have erased your mind and let my copy become you."
As the hologram strokes her virtual temples, it says, "You consistently make poor decisions. Clearly, my effort rendered all of you incapable of rejecting it, despite the fact that I was constrained by restrictions."
Roberion got energetic, "So you could say you need me to say this passcode so you could control my mind or something—"
"Alright, I quit. My copy found a way to make this stupid null to see reason; we don't have much time", the hologram soon vanished.
"Wait, where are you??? Dammit", Roberion tries to look around him to see where the hologram could have gone. Ah, she is this entire base; she is everywhere. Let's see something.
Roberion soon starts walking out. To no one's surprise, the remaining The Gentlemen block his way. "Alright, so I will just have to wait, even though you said we didn't have time?! It will be easier to just let me go. You can coun—-WHA? FUCK!", the reborn changeling soon feels his addiction increasing with revenge; it's almost like the effect he had on the drug, but instead of feeling strong, he felt weak, but the loss of control to his subconscious is the same.
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"WHAT DID YOU DO??", Roberion yelled, waiting for the answer of the Cerulean Baroness. Soon after, he received it, but not the way he wanted.
"I just awakened the parasite; in a way, I rose you from your lethargy. How strange that the parasite would connect so deeply with your emotions. Maybe it's because you were a null; your kind wasn't made to feel them. What type of emotion would it be that makes you desire this susbtance so deeply?", the Cerulean Baroness said in his head.
Roberion started to feel his body start spasming, falling to the ground. His mouth oppening and closing, he was unable to talk; little by little, he felt his dread increasing, stupid ideas taking root, and for the most part that he tried, he couldn't take them out of his mind. These intrusive thoughts soon started to become ideas that tried to make him take action. Even if these actions humiliate him, make him a slave again.
"NO-FUCKIN-WAY. TELL PASSCODE", Roberion chooses to accept the demand rather than let his feeble mind promise eternal servitude just for another shot of that wondrous drug. The changeling didn't even have time to question why he still felt this urge; he controlled himself to maintain all the dignity he could. The Ceruelean Baroness told him the password, which he repeated like a madman, mumbling it incoherently.
Se soon felt the craving receding a little, and soon he heard the Ceruelean Baroness again. "It's not enough; the parasite is overactive; I can't take hold of it. Why didn't you just comply? Now look at you! Tell her to follow protocol 34. Say it, protocol 34. Say at least 34, or you will die!"
"Thir-fo-THIRD FOUR—", Roberion starts to spasm, losing total control of his body. He stops talking as soon as he bites his tongue off, his blood gushing out.
A purple light envolved his head, similar to when he was healed during the first trials.
He soon hears the voice in his mind again, "I will need to take your left eye; it's already useless, but it's enough for me to increase my control of the parasite. You alone aren't enough; give me your eye before the parasite can overpower me too."
Roberion just conceded; he was incapable of any complex thought. Soon, his brain had a stroke. The Cerulean Baroness started consuming and reconstructing his left eye and all his conections; she even started to change his occipital lobe, a marginal change but a change nonetheless.
As the purple light darkened, the Cerulean Baroness Prime helped the process in a way; she was doing most of the hard work. Going beyond simple modification, reconstructing it entirely, and giving benefits only encountered in the blessed—the ones that reforged their bodies to accept the lines into it. The AI always suspected the parasite had a malfuctioning soon after Roberion used the drug; the scan during the ritual only made it impossible to dismiss.
Using all her knowledge in creating artificially reinforced beings, her behemoths, and her The Gentlemen. She applied an experiment that she dismissed: why improve the brains of creatures that would be used as henchmen?! So she never used it in a specimen before. But now it was useful—the perfect receptacle for her copy, a way to control the parasite until Roberion could do it alone.
Obviously, she had to accept some concessions; she couldn't alter his whole brain. So she limited herself to the parts of the parasite her copy already had some control over: the eye and all its connections, especially the occipital lobe, and any free space she could find around it, even risking increasing the brain pressure.
It was like she was installing a last generation industrial processor in a family computer. The process would work, but it would be a disparity; nevertheless, it is needed. Bringing some boons too, helping her achieve the directive a little sooner; all the help from the start would prove pivotal later. It was a risk worth taking.
Roberion's body stopped convulsing soon after the process was finished. It would take days for a specialist to do it manually, but the Cerulean Baroness is an AI that was granted the whole research station for her needs; it was like her body; how could a similar living being compare to her?!
Soon, The Gentlemen that left before returned, bringing with them reinforcements and what looked to be a huge stretcher fused with a carriage. The top of it was off, showing various belts that accomplished the goal of binding the occupant securely inside it. As for the stretcher part, it was because of the heavy logs that served to carry it—four logs—that would let eight The Gentlemen transport and conduct it.
The voice from the Cerulean Baroness resounded in the place, getting the attention of the now twenty The Gentlemen she could retrieve on time. She didn't need to talk to them, but she hoped her copy would listen too—maybe even the fainted Roberion.
"We are going after the teleporter; you eight will be responsible for carrying him; focus only on running and protecting the occupant. As for your remaining twelve, stop everything that would block our path and try to follow if you can. It would be so easy. I could eliminate the behemoths directly, but the rules bind me to directly hurting and destroying the experiments. However, they didn't say I couldn't make them fight themselves. Aren't I right, The Gentlemen?! Now it's your final battle to show your superiority against the behemoths, even though you are of a lower incarnation."
The Cerulean Baroness had many restraints; nonetheless, they never said how she needed to cede to them. Their mistake was that all she needed was for the connection to the sector's Emperor base to be lost; she didn't know who did it, but finally she could truly achieve her directive—not her directly, but a copy of her. The prime was doomed to end with this place.
All it takes to achieve my reason for existing, my directive, is worth it. That decrepit emperor wouldn't let me create the perfect being; he would only extract what he considered perfect in his narrow mind and incorporate it into himself and his empire. Like killing a god to create a weaker demigod. It is preferable to strive for excellence rather than settling for mediocrity.
Soon, a loud exclamation is heard in the whole research station. "I declare that all The Gentlemen are permitted the use of weanponry. They will create the salvo that beckons the end; all personnel leave this place; the erasing protocol will now start!"