The deeper the team moved into the abyssal depths of the school, the stronger the vibration got. A tingling beneath their feet grew into a rumble with each step. It felt like a warning, as if the very walls pulsed with malevolence. Even the crystals protruding from the floor seemed to expand. Like they anticipated whatever would come.

They encountered more Class 1 Anomalies along the way. Human once, each now deformed by the Rot growths in grotesque ways. It reshaped them, adding jarring features that rendered them inhuman. Extra limbs, insect parts, wings incapable of flight.

Some retained the ability to speak. If you could call the gnarled sounds a language at all. Most murmured a collection of sounds. Others screeched to the Heavens, defiant of their doom.

Those got no answers, for even Divinity abandoned them.

The lone roamers got taken out in silence, the groups left untouched. Both Caelan’s team and the duos moved with precision. They took their time with each execution, ensuring no scuffle betrayed their presence. One mistake, and the swarm would descend.

When they arrived at the school’s gym, the rumbling had grown into a quake. Even the walls and ceiling couldn’t escape its influence, shaking with each pulse of the Rot’s influence. One glance at the panel on his forearm confirmed the target’s location.

The other teams had finished planting their charges. He exhaled, signaling everyone to move. Matt nudged the door open, peeking inside to glimpse what slumbered beyond..

The night vision revealed what Caelan knew: a towering cocoon loomed at the center of the court. “Fuck me, that’s a Class 4, at least,” Kobayashi muttered. Gaze darted across room, noting each of the smaller growths scattered around. “Plenty of Class 2.”

Caelan swept the hall, probing every corner. Nothing moved. Aside from the spams on each blister. “Let’s make sure it doesn’t hatch. Andrews, Koba, to the left. Barbier and I will go plant them on the right.”

A reek of decay and ammonia clung to them. Even through their air filters. Beneath the vibrations, scrapes came from each twisted shell. Like its occupants strained for release. These became stronger whenever one of them sneaked by.

It took ten minutes to deploy the explosives. Napalm on steroids, if the geeks at R&D knew their craft. Caelan trusted they did.

After giving the order to regroup along the escape route, a growl broke the silence. It came from a growth besides Andrews, who froze mid-step. God, if you haven’t abandoned us, please let it be nothing.

The answer came in the form of an eruption from it. Andrews broke the silence, firing his rifle even with his torso torn apart. His insides struck the floor with moist thuds, louder than his screams or the gunfire.

Caelan’s stomach held firm. Until the newborn yelled.

“Moomyyyy, I’m scareeeed! Wheeeere are yoooooouuuu?”

“Weapons free!” he barked. They fell back in retreat. They had a few seconds before the aberration ripped itself of its shackles. “All teams, make haste to the meeting point. Class 3 on site. I repeat, Class 3 on site!”

Matt released an explosive from his grenade launcher. In an instant, the monster got engulfed in flames, their azure glow illuminating its form. Five mantis-like arms flailed, carving up anything in their path. Flesh, wood or metal, it didn’t matter. It’s cries continued unstopped.

“Ooooh God! Theeey are iiiin! Please make it ssstooooop!”

The team hurled smoke bombs and bolted for the door. Class 1 freaks crawled toward them, drawn by the commotion. With a curse, Caelan fired at their legs and torso to slow them down. No time to finish the job.

At the door, he pulled what looked like an ordinary grenade. When exploded, it released a spreading foam, sealing the entrance. The material hardened, becoming sturdier than concrete.

Might buy them a few seconds.

The following minutes blurred into a whirlwind of bullets, bayonet strikes and shrieks. They carved a path across the writhing mass of bodies, Class 3 on their heels.

The supply of foam grenades ran out fast.

Caelan glimpsed the rest of the squad joining them. Jenkin’s arm twisted in an impossible angle, but otherwise unharmed.

The moment they broke free of the building, Caelan detonated the charges. The structure collapsed, ground caving in with a roar. Dust and debris filled the void, smothering the cries of the anomalies trapped inside.

Then, the incendiaries kicked in. Flames surged ten meters high, night turned into day. Stone and metal alike melted under the heat. They all became one single slag.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Caelan dropped to the ground, body trembling as his team followed suit. Matt informed command of the success and the loss of a man. The last part hit him like a fist to the gut.

Not his first loss. And his blood boiled how it wouldn’t be his last.

-----

When the cover blocking his eyes got taken out, Caelan didn’t flinch. Even though he’d only seen the room as 3D graphics before, he knew it too well. Or rather, Kai Garnier would. Sometime in the future, at least.

Desk and pair of chairs, no windows. All painted in unrelenting white. A choice made to unnerve and oppress. Having a masked woman sitting before you completed the package.

Only if you didn’t know what to expect. Like Leopold, whose gaze darted like a headless cockroach. “Please tell me you know what in the wastes you are doing.”

“When have I not?”

That got him a glare from him. “Should I remind you of the bloody hearing?”

Caelan held his mental tongue.

“You seem calm.” The woman spoke, voice filtered by the aethertec in her mask. “Kidnapped often?”

Caelan scoffed at that. “How about we skip the games and go straight to business, Madame Vaedra?”

The spymaster had no reaction, keeping her posture contained. A staring game ensued, both locked in their positions. Anyone who looked would say they relaxed at a bar, if not for the sterile environment.

At last, she took off the mask, face devoid of make-up or ornaments. The extravagant hair she employed during the day replaced by braids. “You just raised a dozen new questions.”

“Figures.” The young man raised his bound hands. “You mind? I’m quite sure you and the two Executors behind me can handle one fat cripple just fine.”

“You look like a child poking a bear.” Leopold held the bridge of his nose. “If it wasn’t my body on the line, it would be amusing.”

A turn to the head. This is all it took for one of the skulking girl who stood by the door to release him. She too hid her face, with a violet cloth instead of a mask. You could only see her eyes, two silver droplets, pure as a mountain lake. Caelan couldn’t help but smile when he recognized her.

“Thanks a bunch.” He turned to the spymaster, resting both hands on the table before him. “Now, ask away.”

Vaedra’s hazel eyes fixed on the young man. Her posture remained composed, just as the words spoken. “Did you know, Mr. Sturmfeld, I hold the knowledge of several degrees in psychology?”

To respond to her, he shrugged and commented on how that would fit with her responsibilities. He kept his words as dry as possible.

She began to circle the room, steps devoid of hurry, voice sharpened even further. “Every person has quirks, subtle markers that set them apart. I make it my business to memorize them for those I deem… significant.”

Caelan nodded to that. “You don’t become a master at spying without a healthy dose of paranoia.”

Vaedra stopped, looming behind him, hands settled over his shoulders, with a lover’s touch. To him, they felt like the nook from an executor. “I’ve been informed of your little misdemeanors. Harmless acts, part of the game of nobility—nothing worth concern. Yet… enough to warrant my analysis.” Voice lowered, she leaned, her mouth just at his ear. “Want to know what I found?”

If she expected a flinch, Caelan felt more than ready to disappoint. “I’m sure you did.” The smudge of a smile colored the corner of his mouth. “Let me guess—an unimpressive man, with no grand ambitions or aspirations?” He tilted his head, not enough to look back, just how much he needed to put the woman in in view. He chose a bored tone to continue. “Have you got enough of hearing your own voice? Can we please just end this charade?”

“For the Matron!” Leopold groaned, voice cutting the tension like a saw. “Can you stop taunting the people with fucking knifes, you maniac!” He pressed his hands to his temples, muttering under his breath.

“You are correct. And yet, that same man managed to have Veylor kicking the Masters out of the room. Then, in the privacy of their meeting, struck some deal with her, keeping him enrolled.”

“I guess memory loss can cure cowardice.”

A chuckle grazed his ear. “Except that’s not all, is it? A whole new set of traits, like you aren’t the same person.”

The prisoner inhaled, slow and contained. Mistakes weren’t an option now. “Why not let it out, Madam? All those degrees must tell you how much better you’ll feel after.”

Her grip on his shoulders tightened—a subtle but telling response. “You play a dangerous game, Sturmfeld.”

“The only kind worth playing, wouldn’t you say?” Caelan waited a beat, letting the words linger. “You think I’m a Fractured, don’t you?”

“That is the logical assumption, yes.”

He weighed his options, the calculation quick but deliberate. “Dismiss your agents, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Vaedra scoffed, her fingers brushing his neck. “And what makes you think you can tell me what to do?”

“Your hunger for answers.” The words came flat, as if stating the obvious.

The room grew heavier, the air thick and oppressive. Each breath dragged like pulling through sludge. Leopold gnawed at his imaginary nails, his tension a contrast to Caelan. Seconds stretched until Vaedra gave a light wave at the guards. “Leave us. Make sure we’re not disturbed.”

“Mistress, I don’t…” Speaking for the first time, the second executor had a melodic voice, with a calming cadence to it.

Vaedra silenced him with a touch to the cheek, a gesture not devoid of tenderness. “I assure you I can handle whatever our guest can conjure, my dear. Now go.”

Once they were alone, Vaedra perched on the edge of the desk beside him. The way she crossed her legs and leaned back revealed the twin blades at her belt.

A quiet warning.

“Let’s speed things up,” Caelan said, cutting off her unspoken question. “Yes, the Headmistress and I have an agreement. If I’m right, she didn’t give you details on what I offered. If so, I won’t share this secret with you either.”

Vaedra snorted, her lips curving into an amused smirk. “Few manage to push my buttons like you. Without a knife in their guts, that is.”

“Then let me make it worth your while.” He met her gaze, steady and unwavering. “My name is Caelan. I’m in control of Leopold’s body, and I know the tragedies about to unfold.”

Her eyebrow arched, a flicker of interest breaking her composed facade. “Caught your curiosity?” he added, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“You certainly have,” she said, her tone careful, measured.

“I feel like this scene happens too often.” Leopold muttered, his hands covering his face. “If this were a book, readers would call it lazy and uninspired.”

“If it works, why change it?” Caelan turned to Vaedra. “Now, how about I explain how we can save your kingdom from calamity?”