“Ritz!” the man shouted. “Fuck! Somebody, help! Any—”

“Hold his throat” Lukandor ordered, “and crush it if he screams again.”

Penumbras possessed almost no intellect, given orders usually had to either be simple, one step, or stupidly detailed in a series of steps, and they would follow it to the letter, with no adaptability and no improvisation.

“Keep holding his throat and drag him inside the cell.”

Lukandor checked to see if anyone had seen them, an empty, poorly lit corridor with several other rooms stretched to both sides of him. He picked up the two strange weapons from the ground and walked towards Ritz’s corpse, drawing the directive on the body, its eyes lit up with a dim cyan fire and another penumbra was raised.

“Follow me,” he ordered, going inside the cell.

His first penumbra, Weir, still pinned the man down by his throat. Lukandor closed the door and approached the man.

“Just to be sure,” Lukandor said, “is anyone else coming to check on this room any time soon?”

The man glared at him, but shook his head.

“Good, I think I’ve had enough surprises for the day.”

Lukandor handed one of the weapons to his new Shadows, Ritz, and said, “Hold this and keep pointing it at that man, If he gets up… what was it again? Shoot? If that man gets up, shoot him.”

The Shadow complied, pointing the weapon at the man.

“You don’t have to worry about talking, they won’t do anything unless I order them to,” Lukandor said to the man in blue uniform.

“What did you do to them?” the man asked.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions,” Lukandor said. “What is this place?”

“A prison,” the man confidently lied.

“Slowly start tightening your grip on his throat,” Lukandor said.

“Wait, wait, fine” the man said, voice straining, “it’s a breeding program for people!”

“Loosen your grip.”

The man let out a sigh of relief.

“Why?” Lukandor asked.

“I don’t know, no one does,” the man answered. “Probably some rich bastard’s fucked up project.”

“And you’re fine with this?”

The man scoffed, “It pays, we do what we gotta do to survive. It’s as good a job as any, some guys come in once in a while to impregnate the women and then come back to take the kids away when they’re born. We just take care of the women.”

“It seems you do a little more than that,” Lukandor said, looking at his mother’s abused corpse.

The man gave him an hesitant, repulsive smile and said, “Well… nothing wrong with having some fun and earning a little extra cash.”

When Lukandors expression remained cold, the smile dropped from the man’s face and he looked away.

Pathetic, Lukandor thought. He would enjoy killing him.

“Where are we?” Lukandor asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What country are we in?”

The first thing Lukandor noticed after waking up from the Lich Ritual was their language, he had never heard it before, but for some reason, he could understand it and speak it. Could have been a result of the Ritual, but nothing was certain for the moment.

“Uh… Frilal?”

Never heard of it, Lukandor thought. Should I just kill him?

Lukandor looked at the medallion still on his hand, the sword was even more cracked and the handle had completely disappeared. His time had been reduced for some reason, he had only a few minutes, now, maybe an hour. He could feel it.

Was it then? He thought, recalling the vision he had.

He put a hand to his forehead, where he had been shot, then checked his chest.

Healed.

“Is that some kind of mind control?” the man asked, looking at the Shadows of his previous colleagues.

Mind control, Lukandor thought, picturing how Aena would have laughed at that, he smiled despite himself, but it was short lived.

He glanced at the one holding the weapon, Ritz, and said, “That reminds me, what is a Rule?”

“What do you mean?” the man asked, confused, “Is that a riddle or something?”

“Your colleague asked if what I did with the one over there”---he indicated at the dried up body—”was my Rule. Why would he ask me that? What did he mean by Rule?”

“I… you don’t know?”

“Start tighten—”

“Waitwait, fuck, I’ll talk, I’ll talk.”

“I won’t stop him next time.”

“It’s just that it’s weird you don’t know!” the man said. “Rules are… well, I guess you could say they’re unique abilities some lucky fuckers Awaken with, like whatever it is you’re doing with them.”

“Awaken?”

Lukandor wasn’t sure what he meant, perhaps their culture surrounding potentia study and soul manipulation was simply different.

“Yeah. One day you’re a normal guy, a good guy, friendly, then you Awaken,” the man said with bitterness. “Now you think you’re above everyone else, that you can do shit and get away with anything.”

“Hm.”

I can’t risk wasting any more time here, Lukandor thought. I’ll see it for myself once I get out.

“Will anyone stop me if I try leaving this building?” Lukandor asked.

The man hesitated for a second, then answered with a smile, “Not if you’re with me.”

“Is that so?” Lukandor said, smiling back.

Then I just need your body, he thought, his fingers moving in the air as he spread his potentia and manipulated the cyan mist to form part of the Lich directive on the man’s forehead.

“Yes,” the man asked, unaware of what Lukandor was doing. “I’m the warden, I can get you out of here.”

“You will,” Lukandor said, finishing the directive.

This time, he could see it happening, the warden’s soul getting pulled out of his body and into the medallion, the sword slightly fixing itself.

Lukandor sighed in relief. He wasn’t completely sure it would work, since Lim didn’t mention anything about after the Ritual succeeded. Luckly, Lukandor’s deduction had been right, only the part of the directive that used the target’s soul to fix his own in the medallion was necessary.

When the Ritual was done, something different happened, something Lukandor should have expected if he had paid attention and really thought about what the directive was doing. The man’s body turned gray and pieces of it started to fall apart, turning into ashes.

Of course, Lukandor thought, realizing his mistake. The man’s soul was completely gone, all the leftovers of a normal death that would result in a slow decomposition had vanished.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

But then…

Lukandor walked towards the woman’s body leaning on the wall, he now noticed there were barely any remains left of her soul. He reached to move the hair out of her face but she began crumbling, so he stopped.

I see. Perhaps the hastily drawn directives and lack of stabilizers on the ritual resulted in her soul not being completely absorbed.

“Thank you,” Lukandor said, extending his hand to absorb the glowing white Fog of pure potentia as her body completely turned to ashes.

He turned back to the pile of dust in a blue uniform, that was a problem. He intended on turning the man into a Shadow after the ritual, but that was obviously no longer possible. He should've asked more questions, even if time was short. The man’s soul didn’t even provide him that much more time, he had a day at best.

Lukandor had a new plan, but it wasn’t one he liked. He took off the gray uniform, picked up the blue one, shook out the clinging dust and started getting dressed again.

The warden seemed quite tall, so Lukandor was surprised at how well the uniform fit him. The black boots and gloves were just his size and, along with the deep blue fabric of the clothes, they were all comfortable to wear.

Lukandor checked inside the gray pouch attached to the black belt and found a number of items, some of which he didn’t recognize. Something to look into later. He took the weapon from Tanis’ withered body and put it inside his pouch, putting the other at the holder on the side of his hip.

He put the necklace’s chain around his belt and put the medallion in his left pocket. Putting it around his neck would make it easier to not lose it, but Lukandor thought it would also make it more likely to get hit by one of those projectiles. Putting it inside the pouch was also a good option, but it somehow felt more like a target.

“Weir,” Lukandor said, the Shadow turned to face him.

“Get up,” he ordered.

The penumbra complied.

“Get dressed,” Lukandor tried, but the corpse didn’t move.

Lukandor sighed.

A seminaked man following him would immediately raise questions, making Lukandor’s plan more likely to fail, but just leaving the Shadow behind felt like a waste, so Lukandor took the uniform off the ground and just dressed the corpse himself, it would be faster than attempting to give proper detailed orders for it to dress itself.

“Alright,” Lukandor said after finishing it, “let’s hope this goes well.”

He gave one last look at the cell to make sure he didn’t forget anything, then at his two Shadows, they were in perfect shape, aside from the usual inhuman paleness of Shadows and the marks on Weir’s neck. Lukandor realized Weir didn’t have a weapon and thought of giving the one in his pouch to it, but decided against it, in case he needed to leave them behind, it was better to have a spare weapon.

He picked up the weapon in the ground that had failed him before and tried pulling the lever a couple more times, but nothing happened, only the same dull sound. It probably had no more projectiles to shoot.

Lukandor put the empty weapon on Weir’s holder, both to serve it as a bluff if needed, and to reduce even more the number of possible questions from anyone they interacted with.

“Follow me,” Lukandor ordered them, going outside the cell and closing the door.

Both sides of the corridor looked identical, so Lukandor went left. Despite the stagnant air, the blue lights on the ceiling flickered as if wind blew through the unseen flames. Lukandor looked at the white door, each with a number.

He approached one of the doors and saw that a part could be lifted, revealing a hole to see inside the cell. A woman was huddled in the corner of the room, her brown hair hid her face, she was scratching her arms with so much force that it was digging into her flesh.

He looked inside a few more cells and saw the same scene, women bound to suffer his mother’s fate, but he couldn’t free them, not yet.

Following the only path, Lukandor turned right, and after a couple of meters of the same, turned right again. There were two different doors in that new corridor, the first one was at the center of the right wall, a metallic door with no handle and, to the side, a circle with an arrow pointing up inside it.

The other door was at the end of the corridor, it had a sign that depicted a person running up stairs. Lukandor walked towards it and saw that it led to stairs going a long way up, he also realized the corridors connected into a square, so those stairs were the only exit.

Is this underground? Lukandor thought.

That left the question on what was behind the metallic door, so Lukandor went to inspect it.

“Open this door,” Lukandor tried and, to his surprise, the Shadow of Ritz moved. Perhaps it was on the brighter end of the penumbra spectrum.

It reached for the encircled arrow, pushing it. The symbol lit up and a bright number appeared on a black glass above the door, negative one, then two and decreasing.

What the…

It stopped at negative five and the door opened, it was more of an empty metallic box than a room.

Lukandor cautiously got inside and noticed there was a set of numbers to the right of the door, from negative five to negative one. He pressed the negative one, the symbol lit up and he felt a slight pressure on his body as the box started moving up.

Is this a lifting device? Lukandor thought, What’s even moving it?

The numbers on the sign started going up at an impressive speed until it stopped at negative one and the doors opened. Lukandor stepped out and found himself in a corridor similar to the previous ones, but with large wooden double doors in front of him.

Lukandor went through the doors into a shorter corridor with an iron bar door in the middle and another double door at the other end, two men with the same gray uniform stood by the other side of the bars. He took a deep breath, straightened his back and focused, walking with confidence towards them. He wouldn’t be stopped.

The guards looked confused as Lukandor approached the door and stopped.

“What are you doing?” Lukandor asked. “Unlock the door.”

“Uh… who are you?” the short overweight man on the right asked.

“Are you blind?” Lukandor asked.

“Sorry?”

“And deaf, it seems,” Lukandor said, his voice was level, imposing. “Our uniforms are different for a reason. The only thing you need to know is that I’m your superior.”

The man looked at the Shadows of Weir and Ritz behind Lukandor, then to the other guard, asking for assistance.

“It’s just…” the one to the left started, “we didn’t see you enter, sir.”

“I used the stairs, you incompetents.”

“I—”

“I’ll give you three seconds to open this door or you’ll both be out of a job by tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes,” the man said, fumbling for his keys. He unlocked the door and Lukandor pushed it open along with the man on his way through.

“The previous warden wasn’t… delivering enough results” Lukandor said, turning towards them, “so I’ll be replacing him as commanded from above.”

Lukandor let his words be digested for a second, enough for them to keep up but not enough for questions to arise. “Do you gentlemen know the purpose of this prison?” Lukandor asked. “The real purpose.”

The two guards glanced at each other, unsure.

“I need to be aware of who knows, speak freely.”

“A breeding camp?” the overweight guard said.

So they know, Lukandor thought, staring into the man’s soul with disgust, the guard averted his eyes.

“Are you familiar with everyone who knows it?” Lukandor asked.

“Yes,” the man answered, looking uncomfortable.

“I believe you meant ‘yes, sir’.”

“Ah, yes, sir!”

“Good. What’s your name, officer?”

“Niwe, sir.”

“How many guards are back there, Niwe?”

“Uh…” the man struggled to remember, “counting with the boss, I think it’s six. Sir.”

“You think?”

“I—no, I mean yes, it’s six, sir.”

“Four, then, the previous warden and the guard named Tanis have been… dismissed from their services and are no longer among us,” Lukandor said.

“Dismissed…?”

Lukandor didn’t answer and turned to the other guard, asking, “And what’s your name?”

“Zeig, sir.”

“Go back there and bring them all,” Lukandor said, “tell them to wait here.”

“Yes, sir,” Zeig said, hurrying to follow the orders.

“Niwe,” Lukandor said, “do you know where I can have a private conversation with some of the employees?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lead the way.”

On the way towards the door, Lukandor regretted not turning Tanis' body to dust, the place was so full of Fog that he didn’t think of getting any pure potentia from a corpse, but it could become a problem if someone found his body. Hopefully, no one will enter that cell.

Outside the corridor there was a small waiting room with a few benches and a reception counter with a man behind it.

Niwe led Lukandor to a small room at the far end of a corridor. There were racks filled with what seemed to be general supplies like towels and cleaning items, there was also a small table on the corner with a couple of chairs.

“This is the old storage room, people don’t come here often anymore,” Niwe said.

“This will do,” Lukandor said. He moved the table to the center of the room and sat in one of the chairs with his back to the wall, facing the door.

“Take a seat, Niwe,” Lukandor said.

“Me? I…”

“Sit.”

“Yes…” Niwe said, anxious. He kept glancing at the Shadows behind Lukandor.

“I’ve had a talk with these two,” Lukandor said, “but I’d like to interview every guard to make sure I get a full grasp on how things have been running, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Niwe answered.

“Good. I’m going to start with some basic questions,” Lukandor said. “First, how long have you been working here?”

“You mean the lower floors?”

“Yes.”

“Three weeks, sir.”

“Were you aware of what they do there?”

“Not at first… Zeig was the one who told me about the lower floors, said they needed more people and the pay was better.”

“How much exactly do you know about it?”

“Not much, some of the prisoners are transferred from the regular cells to the lower floors and then are… impregnated, then someone comes to take the children.”

“I see… how do you feel about this job? Is there anything you’re uncomfortable with?”

“Not really, the money is good and I don’t have to do a lot more than what I already did.”

“Are you sure?” Lukandor asked, trying to make the man voice his complaints and show him a reason not to kill him. “Nothing at all? You don’t have to worry about reprimands, it’ll stay between us, I just want an honest view.”

“Well… can we maybe get a chair when guarding the door?” Niwe laughed awkwardly. “The previous chief wouldn’t let us sit.”

Disappointing, Lukandor thought. What’s wrong with these people?

With the same friendly, soulless smile, Lukandor said, “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

That was all Lukandor needed to know, he would also interrogate the others to make sure of who they were and what their part was in this barbarity, but if they knew about this prison's purpose and continued to work here, there was very little they could say that would change Lukandor’s mind. His decision had been made, he would kill them all.