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17th Fragment: -ENVY-

17th Fragment: -ENVY-

||| THE PATH OF ILLUSION: ARIADNE |||

[Meanwhile…]

[The Forest of the Bandit Lord, The Opal Sun Kingdom]

The black-tipped arrow cut through the air before burying itself into the well-worn straw boss.

“Darn!”

Dressed in a milky-white frock coat, the fair woman grunted after realizing her aim was slightly off the mark again. Troubled, she was, for she had spent weeks tinkering around with her black longbow, Nightfall - and yet, it still didn't solve anything. Lifting her head up, Aria peered through the pine tree canopy and noticed that the moon had well passed its zenith.

“Crap, it’s already this late?” she sighed heavily. The princess quickly slung the bow across her back and gathered her essentials for the trip back to the citadel - until she heard a loud rustling from the dense thicket in front of her.

A grin appeared across the princess’s face, followed by her saying, "I expected you to arrive sooner, Theo. Did you get lost somewhere?"

A slim young man walked out of the bushes, scrubbing the conifer leaves off his Aegean blue greatcoat and dark, curled hair. "My apologies for the delay, Your Radiance," the man named Theo remarked as he fixed his orange-tinted shield sunglasses. "There have been some minor disturbances near the East Gate. So, I was dispatched by the Inner Circle to mediate."

"Mediate, huh? Is that what they're calling it these days?" A humorless chuckle escaped Aria's lips. "Taking us royalties as fools - they are either brave or just plain stupid," the princess blatantly expressed her discontentment.

"Careful, Your Majesty," Theo muttered, "Even though you are the daughter of the Sun King himself, your position is what I would say, precarious, for your recent brazenness seems to rub many up the wrong way. "

"Surely you're not referring to my argument with the Inner Circle? To be fair, they’re the ones who asked the question and in return, I gave them what they wanted - the truth," Aria retorted.

"And does this 'truth' includes you being involved in a full-blown scream fest with the ministers? Yelling out threatening remarks to the Chief Consul himself?" the man asked with his arms crossed.

The princess shrugged nonchalantly to the question - much to her bodyguard's chagrin. "I admit, it did get a bit out of control, but at the very least, I've said my piece. Daedalus and his cronies should have seen it coming - with how thoughtlessly they used my family's noble name for their gains."

Theo could only respond to Aria's explanation with a heavy sigh. 'Hard-headed like her brother', he grumbled to himself. "Your brother's coronation will take place in less than a few months, and he'll surely put an end to the Inner Circle's madness. But until then, Your Radiance, I advise you to refrain from saying AND doing anything that could put you in a bad light."

"I think we can pretty much agree that it is already too late for that," a smile spread across the firm line of Aria's lips, but Theo could see the sadness and anger in her glistening tangerine eyes. It was the same gaze her brother had every time he was reminded of the suffering of his people.

"Anyhow, I heard of your recent endeavor in the Edge went well. There is only one thing that baffled me and your brother. The two brand new prisoners in the keep: why is there a large cut mark on one of their faces? " Theo asked.

"The Liberation saw her talking to you, and they ended up chasing her down an alleyway. After that, the situation got out of hand," Aria replied with her eyebrows raised.

"Out of hand, you say?" Theo tilted his head slightly to the left as the princess had used the same words over and over again in the last few weeks.

"Yeah. You can ask Diana about the details. She was there with me when…the situation got out of hand.”

Theo eyed the princess suspiciously, but then he replied, “Fine, but we have to make a stop at the West Gate first. You do realize what time it is, don't you?"

"Oh right, the Third Raid!" Aria grumbled, slightly angry at herself for forgetting such an important event.

"Thank God, you remembered. I was getting worried you might end up forgetting about your duty.”

“Worry, huh?” The princess giggled mischievously. “Did you really mean it? When you said you were worried about me?”

“…Never mind,” Theo exhaled. “Come, your brother is already waiting for us.”

||| THE END OF THE PATH OF ILLUSION |||

ɹɹ********************************************

[Meanwhile…]

[Inside The Disciples' Lair]

Guided by the torch-bearing woman, the trio quietly followed her down the tunnel until they reached a metal wall sullied with Bone Scripts and claw marks. Without saying anything, Elisabeth placed her right hand on the barrier and a loud, distorted beep echoed throughout the passageway.

Slowly the wall split open - the fluorescent lamps above their heads lit up as soon as they walked in, revealing a bleak little bunker fitted with old, unusable medical equipment and rows of grimy operating tables. In addition, two large furnaces sat side by side at the far corner of the room - both had been badly eroded by time.

"This place...Death lingered in this place, yet it strangely felt more...subdued," said Lucy, finally breaking the long silence.

"That's because there were no violent deaths here," Elisabeth stared blankly at one of the beds for a brief second before turning around to face the trio, "Every failed test subject was sent here to be euthanized and subsequently cremated."

"Cremated? Then, the ashes…? Did they…?" Lucy inquired, even though she already could tell she would regret asking that question.

"Yes, it is just as you thought. After they were done processing the corpses, they threw the ashes out into the desert," Elisabeth responded sombrely.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Yuck!" Rupert suddenly felt nauseous after recalling the sands he accidentally swallowed earlier.

"You said 'were' which means the Disciples no longer use this facility for those purposes," Sam presumed, and Elisabeth swiftly validated his guess with a single nod.

"Correct. All of this is the Old Complex - the one raided by the Order ten years ago, resulting in their initial demise. Through there," the woman pointed to the hatch next to the furnaces, "Is the new complex, constructed five years later. Unfortunately, for these past few days, I've been having some trouble trying to open that damn door."

The four strolled past the operating tables until they reached the aforementioned door, which was covered with a decent amount of red oxidized metal.

"Looks pretty sturdy," Rupert commented as he grabbed the handwheel. The elder Nightingale tried to turn it, but due to the rusted mechanism, the wheel refused to budge an inch. Frustrated with his futile attempt, Rupert eventually conceded defeat. "The door appears to be stuck," he grunted.

"Obviously," Sam chuckled before looking over to Lucy, "Perhaps, instead of brute force, all we need is a little touch of finesse."

"A little touch of finesse? Guess that's my cue now, huh?" The female Nightingale rolled her eyes before taking a closer look at the hatch door, murmuring and scratching the nape of her neck every now and then until she was done with her inspection. "Seems like your standard hatch door."

"Can you crack it?" Elisabeth asked.

"Sure, if I could remember the schematics."

Lucy held her right hand out, and a tiny orb of water materialized out of thin air, hovering peacefully over her palm. "Here goes nothing."

With a flick of her wrist, the sphere glided off and disappeared into the center of the handwheel. Like a puppeteer, Lucy moved her fingers with the utmost care, guiding the water drop through the gears and rails solely from her memory.

Shortly after, the four Accursed heard the sounds of creaking metals, followed by the handwheel rotating by itself until they heard a loud clang. "Voila!" Lucy said triumphantly, feeling proud of herself.

"Nicely done," Sam's simple word of praise made Lucy blush furiously under her mask. "Now, with that out of the way," the man shifted his attention toward Elisabeth, asking her, "There's something that has been bothering me, and I would like you to clarify it - if you don't mind?"

"And what would that be?" replied Elisabeth, her eyebrows snapped together.

"I'm not trying to accuse anyone of anything but the door we went through earlier - it uses a biometric security system which, I assumed, can only be opened by the Disciples. Now, unless you found a way to hack into their server, then you owe us an explanation," Sam crossed his arms together, waiting for a response.

Elisabeth's mouth set in a hard line after hearing the sudden question. Her eyes darted between the trio, who, in turn, was staring intently at her. "This is hardly the time to discuss such a thing."

"Oh, it actually is," Sam quickly retorted, "You see, our mission is only to search and bring you back to the Tower - not join your personal crusade against the Disciples."

"Watch your tongue, Edelweiss," Elisabeth snapped, much to everyone's surprise. "If you think this has nothing to do with you nor the Order, then you are gravely mistaken. We can't allow these people to roam freely again - knowing what they've done and will do."

"I know what they did, Liz - we all do. But even a fool can see that you are not in the right state of mind. The last thing I need is to work with someone who is emotionally compromised," Sam said bluntly.

Elisabeth struck the man's face in the blink of an eye, causing the latter to crash into the floor with a heavy thud.

Lucy immediately lunged forward to break off the argument, but Sam raised his hand, stopping the female Nightingale dead on her track. She was initially reluctant to follow his order - that was until she saw the large crack on the man's white mask.

"Alright, that confirms that you really are emotionally compromised," Sam spouted as he rose to his feet with a crumbling mask and a killer headache. "So, are you ready to tell us the truth now?" the man chided before throwing his broken mask to the ground, "Or are we just gonna stand around beating each other to a pulp?"

Elisabeth raised her right hand as if she was about to deliver another blow to the man. But after taking a long, deep breath, she lowered her arm. "Fine. You want the truth?" she said calmly, "No, I'm not affiliated with the Disciples. Not anymore."

"Not anymore? So, you were one of them? As what? A scientist?" asked Rupert.

"Oh no, no, no - I'm something entirely different. Something much worse." Elisabeth spun around and gently leaned against one of the operating tables. "The Disciples believe that our powers are meant to be shared with the world but in a more unpleasant way. As you may have known, they kidnapped war orphans from around the globe - both the Reprieved and the Accursed with the intent of harvesting their genetic materials. They were trying to search for what they dubbed as the superior genes."

"And these genes - what are they exactly?" muttered Lucy.

"It is a…theory of theirs, to put it simply. They claimed that the Accursed's unnatural abilities are dependent on their genetic makeup. You see where I'm going with this?"

"Let me get this straight - are you saying that all of their actions stemmed from a mere assumption?" Lucy sighed, "Isn't that kinda...drastic? For starters, they are a group of scientists; they preferred to spend their time underground, tending to their equipment rather than hunting and kidnapping children from around the globe."

Elisabeth gave her friend a solemn nod. "You are correct. An idea alone is not enough to goad them into committing such cruelty. No, they needed a conductor - a charismatic leader to guide them down the dark path. That leader, I'm afraid-," she inhaled, "was not among those executed ten years ago."

"What?!" Lucy blurted out, unable to contain her bewilderment. "That's impossible. There were no survivors that day - Markus himself made sure of it."

"He did," Elisabeth replied, "But he and the previous Eight misunderstood one thing. This leader was not a researcher - he never was. No one knows who he was or where he resides - not even the senior members of the Disciples."

"So, he's a ghost? That's a bit...perturbing," Lucy exhaled.

"You got to admit, though - for someone who doesn't want to be found, he's doing a pretty good job," said Rupert exuberantly.

"Ghost aside," Sam interjected before showing Elisabeth an object he pulled out from his pocket, "One of the Disciples was carrying this with him. Said it was a drug that temporarily grants its drinker the Accursed ability."

A grimace appeared on Elisabeth's face as her eyes settled on the small bottle. "It's not just a drug; it's a vile concoction brewed from a thousand deaths. Each sip gives you the power of the gods but at the cost of your humanity."

"That sounds dreadful. I'm surprised the Disciples are still making that stuff after knowing the grim side effect," Lucy retorted.

"The side effect is the least of their concerns," Elisabeth replied, shaking her head, "The fact that the drug has been mass-produced means they're not too far off from reviving their gene integration project."

Sam's eyes lit up as he was hit by a sudden realization, "I see - an artificial insertion of the superior genes. So, that's why they abducted the Reprieved as well. As guinea pigs."

"The Disciples are trying to turn them into the Accursed? That's insane!" Lucy cried out, "If they could do that, then the frequency of the Distorted's attack would surely skyrocket! They can't be that stupid, right?"

Elisabeth let out a sad chuckle, "Oh, they know. Unfortunately, they are blinded by their jealousy towards the Accursed, and that same jealousy is what drives them to cast aside their compassion and morality."

"Well, it's a good thing that Markus and his gang put a stop to their experiment," said the eldest Nightingale.

"Did they? What if...the Disciples succeeded in achieving their goal?" Sam glanced at Elisabeth suspiciously and said, "Earlier you told us that you are something much worse. It's you, isn't it? The proof they have been searching for - the culmination of their great work. A Reprieved...who is turned into an Accursed."