According to his estimates, the underground portion of the building extended three floors beneath the surface. After descending to the second floor, Vas knew there were only two more levels to check before locating the crates Madeline had sent him for. He wasn't sure exactly which floor housed them, so he would have to inspect each one thoroughly.

Activating Visión del Velo once again, Vas scanned the floor. There were about fifteen people moving around, their faint figures illuminated by the strange sight. He needed to clear the floor to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. With a deep breath, he channeled his Anima into the rings, which promptly transformed into the deadly chakrams he favored. Keeping low, he crept towards the nearest group of five, the chakrams spinning menacingly on his index fingers.

With expert precision, he hurled the weapons. They sliced through the air in deadly arcs, striking two of the guards in their necks, decapitating them instantly. Voluntad sin Límites propelled the chakrams forward, making quick work of the remaining three, their bodies dropping silently to the floor. Moving like a shadow, Vas continued eliminating the rest of the enemies on the floor, the training ingrained into him from childhood keeping him sharp and efficient.

Vas felt no qualms about the bloodshed. It was unsettling, even to him, how little it affected him now. Maybe it was remnants of the past self he had integrated into his consciousness. Whatever the reason, he didn't dwell on it. He swept the floor once more before heading to the final descent.

The third floor greeted him with a disturbing shift in tone. The walls were bathed in a sinister red glow, pulsating softly from neon lights embedded in the ceiling. The air felt oppressive, charged with something dark and ominous. Checking the floor again with Visión del Velo, he counted eleven people, all of them inside different rooms. Three of the rooms contained three people each, while one room held only two.

As he approached the nearest room, an eerie feeling crept over him. He pushed open the door cautiously, and what greeted him was nothing short of horrifying. Inside, three individuals in dark uniforms stood around a table, their expressions cold and detached. Strapped to the table was a writhing figure—an unfortunate soul undergoing a gruesome transformation. Cybernetic implants were being forcibly grafted onto their flesh, but these weren't the usual enhancements Vas had encountered in this world. These looked...wrong. The machinery buzzed and whirred as it replaced body parts with crude, alien-like mechanisms that twitched unnaturally. The victim's screams pierced through the mechanical sounds, a wail of pure agony that echoed off the sterile walls.

Vas clenched his fists, nausea swirling in his stomach. He checked the next room and found more of the same. In each chamber, people were strapped down, limbs replaced with strange cybernetics that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Some of the victims had gone silent, their eyes vacant, hollow, as if the pain had already driven them beyond the point of return.

In the final room, he could hear the murmur of voices. He pressed himself against the wall, listening to the casual, clinical discussions of the men inside as if they were speaking about machines rather than human beings. The experiments were nothing less than monstrous—humans being turned into something else, something twisted and unrecognizable.

"So, have any of the subjects accepted the modifications?" a voice asked, laced with impatience.

"Not yet, unfortunately," came the reply. "Three are still undergoing the procedure. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Fine, what about the merchandise we stole?"

"No idea. The higher-ups requested it, and we're loading it as we speak. It should be out of here soon."

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Vas, listening intently from the shadows, decided it was time to act. He silently activated one of his Hilos del Destino, weaving a thread of fate meant to disorient the two men long enough to stop them from sounding an alarm. He saw it working almost immediately. They began clutching their heads, wincing in pain as if something was drilling into their skulls.

Seizing the moment, Vas kicked open the door and launched his chakrams with deadly precision. The blades cut through the air, severing the men's heads with swift, clean strikes. The bodies crumpled to the floor, silent and still.

Vas stepped inside the room. It had been occupied by the two men whose voices he had heard moments earlier. A large desk dominated the center, above which a holographic screen flickered with disturbing images and data. The files on the screen detailed the grotesque experiments—attempts to forcibly morph human beings by implanting cybernetic modifications and amputating limbs. It was beyond inhuman.

He quickly scanned the files and copied everything. Vas, like most people, wore a slim bracelet that functioned as a phone, messenger, and data storage device. Though he had avoided using it for fear of being tracked or intercepted, this was too important to leave behind. After securely storing the files, he turned his attention to the remaining rooms.

One by one, Vas took out the experimenters, each kill swift and quiet. The horror of what they were doing only fueled his resolve. Once the entire floor had been cleared, he began searching for the next way down. His heart pounded in his chest as he prepared himself for whatever lay below. This was where Madeline's objective awaited him, but the deeper he went, the darker things seemed to get.

The lower floor was a vast open space bathed in eerie ultraviolet light, filled with crates bearing Madeline's insignia. At the far end, a massive door stood wide open, and beyond it, Vas spotted a large truck being loaded. Four figures moved with purpose: one stood guard, while two others hoisted crates into the vehicle. The fourth sat idly in the driver's seat, waiting to depart. Vas quickly assessed the situation—only two or three crates had been loaded so far.

"The important stuff has been loaded," a gruff voice echoed from somewhere near the truck. "Let's get the rest. We'll make a fortune selling it off."

That was Vas' cue to strike.

With practiced precision, he activated Hilo del Destino, binding the driver in a web of psychic agony. The man clutched his head in pain, immobilized. Taking advantage of the chaos, Vas threw his chakrams at the loaders. One of them barely had time to scream before his head was severed cleanly. But before the second chakram could meet its mark, the guard lunged forward, catching it mid-air with a lightning-quick reflex.

"Run!" a metallic, distorted voice barked.

The surviving loader sprinted towards the front of the truck. He shook the driver violently, trying to snap him out of his daze, but it was futile. In desperation, the loader slammed his fist against a button, triggering the truck's back door to slam shut. Then he hastily shoved the incapacitated driver aside, slid into the seat, and revved the engine.

"You seem… interesting," the metallic voice rasped again, its tone unnervingly calm. "But it's too late now. With them heading through the underground highway, they'll be long gone before you can catch up."

Vas' heart sank. He hadn't known about an underground highway, and now the "important stuff" was slipping away. The realization hit him hard, but there was no time to dwell on it.

"The good stuff's already out of reach," the metallic voice continued, growing more sinister. "And once I've dealt with you, we'll come back for the rest."

Suddenly, the man guarding the crates began to transform. His skin tore away, revealing the gleaming metal beneath—a grotesque fusion of man and machine. His legs elongated into razor-sharp, bird-like appendages, and his forearms sprouted mantis-like blades. Only his chest remained vaguely human, but even that was riddled with implants. His eyes glowed an unnatural red, devoid of any humanity, and as his lower face split apart, razor-sharp metal teeth glistened in the ultraviolet light.

The sight was horrifying—more machine than man, a twisted perversion of life. Vas felt a chill crawl down his spine, but he steeled himself for the coming fight.

The machine-man hurled the chakram back at Vas with a flick of his wrist, the weapon spinning rapidly through the air. "I think you'll need this," the metallic voice rasped, dripping with taunting menace.

Vas sidestepped just in time, narrowly avoiding the returning chakram. The weapon whipped past him, embedding itself into the wall with a sharp clang. Without hesitation, Vas summoned both chakrams back to his hands using Voluntad sin Límites. His mind flared with concentration as the chakrams hovered, poised for his next move.