"Are we going home soon?" I asked, my eyes bright, wide and filled with colour. The wondrous sights around me filled my mind and heart with ideas. Here, anything could serve as a muse for creativity. The store was warm, which was hard to bear, but the glint of the colourful metals within made it all worth it.

"Soon," my mother answered curtly, still facing the counter. It was a short answer. To the point. It made me think, and I wondered if my own question could have been more succinct. More efficient. More fitting.

"Your order, ma'am," came the voice of the Human with the bald, scarred head. He reached over the counter, giving mother a black box with grey etchings on the side, styled like a pair of curling waves.

"Thank you, Basil." Mother turned, walking out of the store, her tail stiff and controlled, sneaking out from underneath the back of her yukata. Her clothes were like my own, a dark blue adorned with grey symbols, marks resembling hammers and blades. They were marks of pride, a show of the dedication to our craft.

The colours of the world drifted lazily, bleeding into each other like the art of a watercolour painting. Grass and trees were both green and brown simultaneously, waving and swaying together in tandem. Beautiful. The moss and vines growing on houses as we passed seemed to shift as though part of the buildings themselves, growing longer and more inimitable, even as I watched. The wood of the water wheel as we neared our home blended with the vibrant, shifting blues of the river in constant motion. It was scenic. Perfect. Even better than I remembered.

I knew we needed a house like this. Working the forge was hard. Mother and Father needed to have the river nearby to cool off when the house got too hot for them to handle. The heat wasn't as hard for me to bear. I was different.

Then we arrived. We'd made it home.

I felt streams of wetness trickle down from my eyes as I was suddenly overcome with emotion. It wasn't a big house, or even a very nice house. It was just a regular house, but it was home. I grabbed my chest, digging my fingers into fabric and skin, as though I could rip the lump that was making it hard to breathe out my body. Why did I feel like this? I made it home safely with Mother, and then-

My thoughts broke off as my eyes were drawn to the chimneys. Our chimneys were bigger than the ones in the other houses. They helped keep the house from getting too warm, which it often did because of Mother and Father's important work. The windows were open too, letting steam pour out, floating high into the air. The smoke and steam danced together, intertwining like a pair of snakes in flight, forming a huge, swirling cloud.

The cloud didn't go away.

It got bigger and bigger, casting a shadow over me, Mother, the river and the village. It was too big now. It covered everything I could see, and everything I couldn't see, too. Everywhere I looked, the world had gone grey. Colourless.

I didn't want to be outside anymore. I started walking to the house, but Mother held my arm. Her fingers, fully scaled and lacking in skin, grabbed my frail, cursed wrist. Her hand was like a vice, far stronger than my own. Stronger than mine would ever be. I wanted to go home, but I didn't want to struggle against Mother. She never talked about her own home, her first home, but I never wanted to think about why.

The cloud descended, and my breathing became shallow and weak. I screamed in horror as the cloud covered my house, obscuring it from sight. The chimneys, the windows, the water wheel, the river, the village, the sun. It was all gone, lost forever beneath the cloud, never to be seen again. I wanted to go, but Mother stood firm. Unblinking, unmoving, as expressionless and proper as a statue.

The wispy cloud began to curl and billow. I watched as shapes appeared in the cloud, approaching Mother and I from all directions. Featureless silhouettes with black robes and masks strapped to their faces. I was scared, and that was wrong. Mother was calm and stoic. She was right. She was what I could be, if I really, really tried. She was what I should have been.

I saw a new shape in the cloud. It walked forward on powerful paws, the smoke twisting and contorting into a titanic shape. An enormous Direwolf with a bloody maw, growling hungrily. With every step, I heard a sickening crunching sound, one that made me want to run, even when I couldn't. The breaking of bones. Unmistakable. It walked closer and closer, and everyone watched. The figures stayed in the cloud, their eyes on me. Mother looked straight ahead, her eyes on the cloud. The Direwolf walked up to me, its eyes fixed on the kill.

I shouldn't be scared. I couldn't. Not with mother standing right beside me.

Even as it opened its mouth, I knew I shouldn't be scared. I could smell the blood. I could see tufts of orange fur between its teeth. I could feel the hatred and hunger rolling off its body in sheets as the cloud surrounded me. Choked me.

The monster roared as it lunged, the sound loud and droning, the sound of a buzzer pierced my ears, and I began to breathe again. I forced myself to focus, fixing my breathing as images and emotions vanished from my head. Deeply, carefully, calmly. I kept my eyes focused on the ceiling and the white light above, waiting patiently for the feelings to pass. My claws dug into the mattress, creating thick gouges in the side. Shivers ran through my body like a nest of wriggling worms, the bed beneath me drenched in sweat.

When I was certain the feelings had run their course, I sat up. With a feeling of shame that was soon buried alongside everything else, I threw off the damp blue blanket.

I climbed out of the bed, flecks of sleep still hanging on for dear life at the edges of my eyes. I stood at the sink, turning it on as water cascaded down into the bowl. The force of the water sent drops flying everywhere, landing on the floor, my clothes, and me. Cupping my hands together, I washed my face over and over, making sure no trace of fatigue remained. I kept my breaths deep and consistent. I'd gotten much better at doing it as of late. Mother would have been proud. The pang of melancholy I felt at the thought was swept away as quickly as water down the drain.

I stepped away, allowing myself a sigh before I got to my stretches. I'd learned that if I didn't stretch each morning, the daily exercises would leave me much sorer than if I hadn't. I'd tried a few different methods, and these seemed to be the most effective. I leaned forward, keeping my knees straight as I bent down to touch my toes. I took an inhale as I bent down, and an exhale as I came back up. I could reach them, but only barely. I'd seen Humans doing this exercise, but they didn't have the benefit of a hefty tail curling up behind their back to provide a little extra push forward. After a few near touches, I stood again.

I crouched, stretching my legs out as far as they would go to either side. Next came my arms. I straightened my left out, pushing it as far to the right as it would go, keeping it in place for a few seconds with my other arm. I mirrored the process with my right and finished my stretches. Methodical and complete.

My breathing hadn't changed since the start, which was a welcome change. In the beginning, the exercises had created small windows of weakness that had allowed shallow breathing and the feelings that accompanied them to slip through the cracks. That wasn't the case anymore. I'd learned, practiced and adapted to surpass it.

"ATTENTION, SUBJECTS. YOUR DOORS WILL BE OPENING SHORTLY. PROCEED TO THE CAFETERIA IN AN ORDERLY FASHION. ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE, CAUSE HARM TO OTHERS OR DAMAGE THE FACILITY WILL BE MET-"

"'-with a swift punishment. That is all,'" I intoned, speaking in tandem with the projected voice. It was the same message every day. I was nearly certain I could recite all of their announcements without needing a single hint.

My eyes followed the blue line as it traced down along the wall. I stepped forward, walking out the door before it had even finished opening. I'd gotten the timing for this down too. I could have walked out of the room and down to the cafeteria blindfolded. It was an accomplishment I was proud of. It proved that I was able to focus.

I stayed close to the wall, my posture slightly hunched. I kept my eyes forward and distant, feigning inattentiveness. When I arrived in the dome-like room, I kept my eyes tilted downwards. When I saw another subject, my eyes were on their torso and below. I didn't meet a single person's eyes. I'd learned not to rely on [Camouflage], either. It was better to remain seen so people didn't bump into me or step on my tail. I had no desire to fight others, either. I wasn't like Sigura, who was adept at hand-to-hand combat. I didn't have the build or strength for it, but I didn't need to fight either. I had my mind to keep me afloat.

Even if they didn't consciously recognise it, there were habits a subject could follow that made them less likely to attract attention. Habits that made survival here a breeze. Habits that I had learned to adapt and master.

I stopped at the outermost rings. I knew which type of food would appear in which trough. I was far from the region where the red meat had been served. The area where Sigura had been attacked by the Minotaur on the first day. When the columns of light appeared and the floor of the trough parted to push up food, I saw my breakfast. The trough before me was filled with fish. I didn't know the names ascribed to the different types, but I'd memorised the colours and patterns of the scales. I knew which fish were palatable, and which were vomit-inducing.

The air around me was warm from the bodies pressed together seeking food, but I knew how to make myself as small and unlikely to be pushed aside as possible. As alien as the feeling was, it was almost comforting to know there were many in the same position as me. I felt a strange sense of camaraderie, even if it was likely none of them reciprocated it. One piece as part of the whole.

My hands shot into the trough with mechanical precision. My jaw tore through skin and scale with ease as the food reached my mouth. The once-cooked fish was reduced to a skeleton. I tossed the remains to the floor, reaching for another. Subjects only got three meals a day. Getting as much food as possible before the daily exercises made it far more likely you could make it through the day without dropping from exhaustion.

Eating nothing but fish would only make me sick. It wasn't healthy to eat a single type of food. Once I'd had my fill, I moved away from my spot at the trough, heading for one of the inner circles. If I wanted to be as healthy as I could and make it through this place, I'd have to balance out my diet. The trough I'd visited on the first day had the same food in it as before. I picked up a reddish-pink coloured plant with thick leaves sprouting from the top. It reminded me of a peach, albeit more strongly coloured.

I bit into it, savouring the juicy crunch of the fruit. It wasn't the tastiest thing I'd ever eaten, but it wasn't bad, not when compared to a lot of the other food served at the cafeteria. The food was filling, and that was what I needed most.

I wanted to go to Sigura again. I knew she'd be doing the same thing I was, stuffing herself with what little time we had in the cafeteria. It had become routine after our first day taught us a harsh lesson. After the Minotaur had been dragged away, we'd been sent straight to the exercise yard with the others. That first day had been torture.

"But they are no longer as bad as they were, hmm? The days here are not good, but they get easier to bear, do they not?"

I didn't need to look up from my work to know who was speaking. The only person who had consistently spoken to me here other than Sigura. We had a similar diet, so I suppose it made sense that we often met here, even if I did suspect he sought me out specifically.

"Good morning, Yrlack," I spoke, acting more courteous than I felt. A deep breath helped me swallow the feelings of bitterness as easily as the fruit that slid down my throat.

"I am sorry if I interrupted your musings, Yuri," he said, turning his head back towards the trough. His 'brain' seemed to pulse with the movement, drifting with that same dream-like fluidity. It looked... surreal.

My mind returned to the early morning, and the way I'd awoken. The dream. A sacred place within my memories, tainted by worry and doubt. Maybe someone here knew better breathing techniques so I could learn to get a good night's sleep. Those dreams were getting more and more frequent, standing in the way of a perfect daily routine.

"If there is something on your mind, you understand the best cure is to spread your concerns, yes?" the man asked.

I sighed. That wasn't going to help. The only 'cure' I had for these disruptive feelings was my Skill. It was the only thing that could help cope with the dreams and my emotions. Yrlack didn't seem unwise, but he couldn't possibly understand what I was going through.

But...

"I've been having dreams of home," I muttered. "Bad ones. I haven't been sleeping well."

I was ahead of schedule anyway. I didn't know what Yrlack was, but he was a creature with some sort of power over the mind. If anyone I knew had a real way to fix my problems, it might be him. As annoyed as Sigura could get with him, I could tell she trusted him. She hadn't ever tried to punch him or physically force him away, which was as good a sign of trust in a stranger as any, for her.

"Ah... home," he sighed wistfully, looking up towards the dark, empty ceiling. "Where is home for you, little one? The forests and swamps of Selvania, I presume? The spiritual homeland of the Varani?"

I shook my head. He was... half right. I'd been living in Addersbrook, on the borders of Selvania. But that wasn't home, even if I'd tried my hardest to make it that way.

"Beniha."

Yrlack turned to look towards me, a motion that caused his whole upper body to swivel in my direction. It was strange, but not unsurprising.

"I am unfamiliar," he told me.

"It's a village," I responded, more pointedly than I'd intended. "In Lucan."

Surprise spread across his features. He took a moment to process the information, taking another bite from the fruit.

"You are a long way from home then, are you not?"

Good job stating the obvious. I didn't need anyone to tell me that. I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. I forced myself to speak around it.

"... Yes. But... after seeing this place... I'll take whatever 'home' I can get."

Yrlack took a deep breath of his own, mimicking my own motions. He nodded solemnly.

"I understand. This place is a home for no man, woman or child. It is a trial to overcome, and a trial alone. There is no peace to be found within these walls, but I fear the 'us' that exist now will never see the open sky again."

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It was my turn to nod, my deep breath casting a ball of melancholy far into the reaches of my mind, away from the logical focus it threatened to corrupt.

"What was your home like?" I asked back. I wanted to focus on something else. If we were talking about his home instead, my breathing would come easier.

He took his time chewing on the fruit, slowly looking up towards the artificial lights of the ceiling. They were bright, but they couldn't compare to the sun. These lights carried no warmth. No personality or expression. I missed the sky.

"My home was not terribly unlike this place," he admitted, after a long pause. "I am no Chimera, but I too was born in a laboratory of steel and solitude. It was the laboratory of my father, you see. Our kind, the Tvarroth... 'Brainmane', in your tongue, do not reproduce in the same way other Humanoids do, in pairs. We form our young..."

He stopped speaking. For a moment, I believed he was overcome with emotion. One look at the strained expression on his face made me unsure. It seemed less like an emotional response, and more like confusion. As if he couldn't remember what his home was like. Or he couldn't find a way to express a thought. Like being unable to think of a word for-

"Asexually," I said, a moment before my thought process caught up with my mouth.

His expression cleared, and he nodded.

"Yes. 'Asexually'. It is a different process from your own. I was born in a vat, not a mother's womb or egg. I did not have children of my own, and my foolishness led to the capture of my father and I."

It wasn't surprising to hear that he'd been captured with someone else, but I felt a pang of pain hearing that. I wore worry on my face, even if my lungs buried the feeling within.

"Your father? Is he still here? I haven't seen anyone like-"

"I do not know," he interrupted, looking away. "But I hope he is long dead."

"I..."

My mind stuttered to a stop. The thought of my own parents dying was haunting. We had our differences, but I hadn't ever wanted them dead. I didn't even want to consider the possibility, even if I knew it was inevitable someday.

"I do not loathe my father," he assured me, likely reading my thoughts or expression. "But I would not wish this fate upon him, nor any creature. I would rather him dead and at peace than living in this farce of life."

I swallowed, unable to push down the lump in my throat. It was an obstacle, one that made my deep breathing and the solace it provided harder to reach.

"If I was stronger... maybe we wouldn't have been captured," I said quietly. If I spoke and shared my feelings, maybe the feeling would go away. That was what he'd said, wasn't it? I could feel my claws digging into my palms, hands clenching into fists.

"Regrets of the past are best left in the past. It is good to remember what has come and gone, but a poor decision to relive it," the pink furred man replied, his tone somber. "What is done has been done. All we can do is look to what happened, weep and steel ourselves for all that is to come."

"There were adventurers in my town," I said, my voice trembling. "There were people that could have helped us... on the day we got captured."

"Blame will not change the present, and can only serve to sully the future," he replied, looking down at me.

I shook my head, reaching into the trough for another fruit. It was better to dig my nails into the soft skin of the fruit than my own flesh. Even if it didn't provide the same outlet. The same sense of... relief? I wasn't sure how to put the feeling I got from the action into words.

"I'm not putting blame on them..." I sighed, my arms trembling. "But... if we'd stayed and talked to them, or listened to our team's warnings, or had done anything differently... none of this would have happened."

The Brainmane opened his mouth to speak. I didn't let him.

"I knew it was a bad idea, but I didn't say anything!" I spoke, more emotion leaking into my voice than I'd wanted. I tried to take a deep breath, but more words spilled out in place of a calmer exhale. "I wanted to be stronger, but we shouldn't have gone into the forest, not without our whole team. I should have said something! If I'd taken more action, if I'd... pushed back..."

My words trickled to a stop, running out of steam. The adrenaline of the moment was passing. I hadn't been thinking about what I'd been saying. There was no logic to it. Everything I'd said was instinctual. It had come from a place within me I barely noticed was there.

"You are a strong person to admit such things, Yuri, but you are inexperienced in the ways of this world," he said. I looked up at him. His features were blurred slightly from the tears in my eyes. I was reminded of the first day, gazing into the toilet bowl and not recognising the person I was looking at.

"You have a sharp mind, but you rely on it far too heavily. Ideals, thoughts and plans are only half the battle. Without action to accompany them, they are meaningless. You obsess over logic, even when it does nothing but harm you. It is a double-edged sword, one which offers protection and safety, yet begs you to kill your own chances of being happy to attain them. As long as you rely on nothing but that blade, you will not grow."

Kill...?

"That Skill of yours is a crutch. It will keep you safe, I am sure, but it will not make you happy. This 'action' you wish to take... Should you continue to rely on your Skill, you will never reach it. It will prioritise your survival, and your survival alone. It is your instinct, as much as you like to believe it to be cold logic. Emotion will make you feel pain, but that pain will serve as the wisest teacher you could ever hope to find. It will make you decisive. Proactive. Mature. From that pain, you will grow."

That was where he lost me. This Skill wasn't a crutch. It was the only thing keeping me afloat. Without it, I was certain I'd crack, even worse than I did before he spoke. If something like that could slip through a mere crack, what would happen if the wall broke entirely? The thought terrified me.

Being 'proactive' brought memories to mind. I wanted to be able to speak, but I knew where that could get me. Openly expressing curiosity and a desire to act brought consequences, both seen and unseen. It was easy for other people to see that desire and call upon it when it suited them.

I remembered the first time I learned the damage proactivity could cause. My mind was cast back to a moment with my father in the forge. He made the cleanest blades I had ever seen, and I, foolish as I was, revealed my curiosity. I was eager to learn the craft. I'd thought the work he crafted was the like that [Heroes] would wield going into battle. It made me excited to think that one day I could be one of those [Heroes], using such a perfect, beautiful weapon to save the people I loved.

He told me that if I wanted a perfect weapon, I needed to make it myself. He talked me around to the idea. An adventurer that could craft and maintain their own equipment. It would save money and resources on the road, and I could develop greater and greater weapons as I learned techniques along my travels. It was a dream he used to his advantage. He shoved me into the craft, cramming as much smithing knowledge as he could into me. I made blade after blade, much like he did, feeling pride like never before.

But none of the blades were meant for me.

I was thankful for Sigura. If not for the team inviting me as a member, I might have agreed to father's proposal and joined the Blacksmithing Guild. I hadn't realised what that would have meant at the time. That I would have been signing myself up for a life I didn't want. A life locked in a forge instead of experiencing the adventure I longed for. Father had told me I could have used the Guild as a stepping stone, to get a recommendation as an adventurer.

But what if that recommendation never came? I would have been stranded.

I brushed my hand against the juice-stained metal of the trough. I could remember it all so, so clearly. They'd praised my 'work ethic'. They wanted me to follow in the family business, but it wasn't what I'd wanted. They'd said I was 'flighty', that I'd 'grow out of it' when I realised what the right thing to do was. At times, it felt like I didn't even know my parents. How could I truly know them, when I was so different? When I was born in a way that had created an insurmountable gap between me and them?

Everyone began to leave the cafeteria as the buzzers sounded overhead, throwing the waste from their food to the ground, covering the floor in garbage. I let go, dropping the half eaten fruit, the juices within mixing with the blood from my pierced palms.

Yrlack's hand was on my shoulder, but he said nothing, for there was nothing to say.

I felt tears run down my cheeks.

I hadn't been paying attention to my breathing.

______________________________________________________________________

I was running out of breath.

The world spun around me, colours blending into one another through warped vision. Greys, reds and oranges, all merging into one. I remembered that night, when I was overcome with a similar sense of nausea and disorientation. Back then, I had no idea what was happening. Now, this feeling had become second nature.

I stopped running, bracing my hands against my knees, searching for any meagre sense of stability I could grasp. The world still swam in my vision without order or reason, but I was able to catch my breath. I focused on my breathing, waiting out the feeling with closed eyes.

Once I regained my breath and my focus, I could see again. The metal floor beneath me was hard and steady, no longer moving like a Wyrm was writhing beneath the steel. The red lines marked on the floor glowed with a soft light, a light that looked less fuzzy as my sight steadied. My breaths were heavy, but they weren't as laboured as they had been.

Once I'd caught my breath, I looked back up. There were still other prisoners on the track, making it through the daily run, just one step of the mandatory exercise we were put through daily. They were moving slower than I had been. Not because I was more fit than they were, but because I was being forced to keep up with an unreasonable pace.

Sigura stood next to me, her arms crossed, hopping on the spot from one foot to the other. One arm was still wrapped up like that of a Mummy, but she was able to move it now. I wasn't sure if she should be doing that, since it wasn't fully healed, but she was never the type to let others define what she could and couldn't do. It was something I liked about her, even if it often caused more problems than it fixed.

"We still have another two laps to go, Yur. C'mon, we're wasting time."

"Can... can we go a little slower...?" I huffed weakly between breaths.

Sigura's expression was pained, and she glanced around at the other prisoners.

"Fine. You came this far at a good pace, so we can take it easy for a bit."

I nodded, grateful for the reprieve. Just as I was about to respond, she started moving again, a sight that made my heart drop down into my stomach. She spun around, her hair swishing with the motion. I followed after her, jogging now. It annoyed me that she was moving again so soon, but it was better than the sprinting we'd been doing just before this.

I was more fit now than I had been before coming to the facility. It was one of the silver linings of having little to do besides eating, exercising and thinking. I was stronger and faster than I had been, even if I wasn't strong or fast enough to make a difference. I wasn't sure I would ever be, anymore. Not while we were trapped here. I could only hope that I'd be able to make use of the strength I'd built up some day.

"Did we... did we really have to go that fast, Sigura?" I asked, my breath finally starting to catch up with me. I could keep this pace up. As long as she didn't speed up again.

"You won't get any faster if you don't push yourself, Yur. If I don't press you on it, you won't bother."

She reminded me of a coach, one that had been at the small local school I'd attended as a child. They had pushed us all, too, whether it was in physical fitness, basic magic training or aptitude tests. They had gotten us to give their lessons our all, even if we had struggled. Especially when we struggled.

I opened my mouth to disagree, and broke my breathing pattern. I realised I had no way to refute that. She wasn't wrong, exactly, but-

"I don't think it matters," I responded. "If we're stuck in this facility, being fit or not doesn't mean anything."

I could see her roll her eyes out of the corner of my vision.

"It'll make you feel better. When we get the fuck out of here, we'll need to be able to run, won't we? They're not just gonna let us walk out of here like we're on a Sunday stroll."

I grimaced, looking away. I didn't see any way we could escape. If we had the ability to leave, our time would be better spent hiding until their [Scouts] gave up searching. If they had a facility as well staffed as this, then they had people with magic that could easily keep up with us. We didn't know what the land beyond this facility was like, either. The region around us could be riddled with traps, unforgivable terrain or monsters just waiting to catch us, for all we knew.

"And if we... we get turned into one of those monsters? The Chimeras?"

I felt a pit build in my stomach for even broaching the question. It was one that was never far from my mind, even while I was breathing properly. It always found a way to resurface, worming its way through the smallest crack in my mental defenses.

"You worry too much, Yur. We have to look at the best case scenario," she said, turning to look towards me as she jogged. "We've gotta plan for the future here."

What future? More running? Being tested like lab rats?

"I'm too beautiful to die in a shithole like this, and you're too smart. You're a brainbox, Yur. I'm sure you'll think of something, or we'll get some chance to make a move. We won't be stuck here forever, so don't be so damn gloomy."

How many like us have these people captured? Hundreds? Thousands? More? They would have prepared for anything. If there was a way to escape, we would have heard more about the inner workings of a facility. As it was, information on the organisation was limited to horror stories and grotesque monster sightings. Whenever they appeared in the news, no matter how noteworthy the story, there was never any concrete information that could be used against them. We had nothing to work with. That alone spoke volumes about their track record.

Before I realised it, we'd gone two more full laps around the metallic hall. I stopped at the far edge of the track alongside Sigura, taking the time to stretch and catch my breath properly. I was glad it was over. I wanted to do nothing more than lay down and do something else, like eat or sleep, but I'd learned from past mistakes. If I rested now, the aches and pains of exercise would come back to haunt me. I had to stretch and make the most of the workout. This too was a form of efficiency.

"Hey, Yur."

I looked up towards Sigura, not stopping my stretches.

"Watch this," she said.

She closed her eyes, arms falling loosely to her side. She was breathing deeply now, focusing. I wasn't sure what she wanted me to look at, not until I saw her body turning fuzzy and indistinct. I watched with wide eyes as an orange-yellow glow formed around her body. The edges flickered like a wild flame, but it continued to expand from her body. The coating of light was orange, with flickering yellow circles drifting along its surface. She looked sharper than ever. Distinct. Looking at it filled me with a sense of warmth, and something more. Something stronger.

Determination.

"Fucking cool, isn't it?" she said, flexing an arm. The coating of light followed her movement, acting as an extension of her body. "I got Yrlack to teach me how to do it. That sucker told me I should only use it in self-defense, but there's no fucking way I'm doing that."

I could see sweat drip down her face, and it wasn't just from the exercise. She closed her eyes again, focusing on her own breathing. She expanded the 'coating' outwards, pushing it further and further before it 'broke'. The glow shattered into wisps of orange light, fluttering into the air as it broke and disappeared.

"I'm still getting used to it," she said, letting out a long breath. "He called it '[Mantle]'. It looks badass, but it makes me stronger, too. Yrlack says it makes shit more durable, but I can hit harder too."

Her smile spread wider until she was grinning from ear to ear, fangs bared.

"I can't wait until I see that shitty cow again. I'll fucking break his face after what he did."

The memory of the first day took its toll. My features darkened, and I focused on breathing deep. I was... not angry, exactly, but indignant. That Minotaur had picked a fight with us, and I wanted to see it resolved. It was more for Sigura's sake than mine, but... I wanted to be there when he got what was coming to him.

"But..." Sigura began. I looked back towards her, and her expression was more somber now. "I haven't seen him around. I've kept my eyes peeled for the fucker, but I haven't seen him anywhere. Not at the cafeteria, not here, not anywhere."

"Maybe there's more than one cafeteria in the facility," I responded weakly. "He might have been moved somewhere else."

"Doubt it," Sigura shrugged, putting her hands on her hips. "Why would they bother moving him from one place to another? He picked a fight with me for no reason, not because he had some grudge or some shit. If they wanted to split us up, it wouldn't make a difference. He'd just find someone else to fuck with somewhere else."

I could see where her train of thought was going. I felt my shoulders slump, staying silent.

"They probably offed him," she finally said, irritation drowning her voice. Her eyes and face scrunched up, doing all they could to prevent her from lashing out. "Fucking pricks. If anyone was going to off that bastard, it should have been me. They had no fucking right to do that."

I nodded. They had no right to do any of this. That wouldn't matter to them. They had the power and resources to capture people like this. This facility wouldn't be in the open, either. Nobody was coming to save those captured here or monitor the group's ethics. They were free to do whatever they wanted, here. I glanced towards the entrance, spotting two of the bulky, heavily armed Dolls. Both were armed with long glaives, their eyes focused single-mindedly on the prisoners still running. Emotionless sentinels that would never lose their focus or composure, no matter what happened. As much as I hated them, I felt a pang of envy. Life would be so much simpler if I could think and act like they could.

They were entirely focused on their missions. Their objectives. They spoke only when they needed to, and thought even less. Did the Dolls ever see the outside? Did they care? Did they know what it felt like, to look up at the sky? To look up and wonder what else was out there in the world?

"Hey..." Sigura said. I looked back towards her, and saw worry in her eyes. "We'll get out of here, alright? This place can't hold us forever."

It could if it wanted to, I thought.

"I'll teach you [Mantle], got it? We'll both get stronger. I'll get Yrlack to teach us more of these 'Luster Art' things even if I have to beat them out of him. Even if we can't use our magic, we can still grow, Yur. We'll get the fuck out of here, one way or another."

One way or another, huh? I could agree with that much. One way or another.

Either we'd escape, or we'd leave here in a coffin.