When the door opened,
A murky force surged forth.
From simple to complex, from minute to immense, it flowed through the arcane connection between soul and flesh, instantly manifesting in the material world with overwhelming presence.
In a blink, the shadow beneath Seraphine's feet surged outward like an ink spill, engulfing the entire Laboratory.
Moments later, thousands of jagged Shadow Blades, each towering four to five meters tall, erupted from the sea of darkness coating the floor.
SWISH SWISH SWISH.
The Blades tore through the air in a frenzied storm of slicing and stabbing, producing an unrelenting cacophony of rending sounds.
Within seconds, the Laboratory's ceiling, walls, instruments, equipment, and storage units were all shredded into heaps of scrap metal, shattered debris, and fragments of glass.
"Hm. The Mental Power of this body is slightly... lacking. Perhaps I'll need to add gestures or verbal cues to make the Hypnosis more effective. No big deal, just a minor adjustment."
For Seraphine, a master of Hypnosis and Psychological Manipulation, controlling minds with a single word or a snap of her fingers was second nature.
Just then, a piercing alarm shrieked through the corridor.
DING LING LING LING LING!!!
It seemed an Alarm System had been damaged amid Seraphine's rather spontaneous act of destruction.
She paid it no mind.
And then,
BANG!!
The twisted, half-melted Lab Door flew open with a CRASH!
A Security Squad from the Losngel City underground base of the Frankenstein Corporation burst in, heavily armed, their weapons drawn.
The Squad Leader, a stocky middle-aged man, caught sight of Seraphine. His expression twisted in terror as he shouted, "Open fire!!"
Instantly, a dozen Submachine Guns roared to life, unleashing a barrage of bullets.
CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK!!
Seraphine merely shook her head slightly.
Before her, a swirling vortex about a meter wide shimmered into existence, silent and smooth.
The Dimensional Pocket opened.
It effortlessly swallowed the incoming bullet storm, collecting the rounds in a quiet vacuum of space.
Next,
The Black Shadow beneath her feet surged once more, lightning-fast, spreading out to the guards' positions.
Then, as if black thunder exploded beneath them,
A dense thicket of Shadow Spikes erupted violently from the ground.
SZZZZZZZZZZZT!!
"AAAHHH!!"
"Monster!!"
"Devil, DEVIL!!"
The Spikes tore upward, impaling every guard through limb and torso, pinning them screaming to the floor like ragdolls nailed in place.
The Captain, his chest, shoulders, abdomen, and neck pierced through, struggled to remain upright. His face twisted in agony as he glared at Seraphine, who now approached calmly and silently.
"Impossible... impossible!! Abram never had powers like this!!"
Seraphine passed him without a glance.
Without a word.
At that moment, the Shadow Spikes lodged in the guards' bodies detonated, splitting apart into dozens of finer, sharper Barbs.
Each one violently pierced through internal organs, nerves, and bones, bursting out from spines, ribs, and eye sockets.
AAAHHHH!! AAAHHHHH!!
The guards writhed in torment, howling in agony until their voices abruptly cut off.
Dead.
One by one.
SZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT.
The Shadow Spikes trembled once more.
They slashed and whirled, reducing the corpses to scattered limbs and pulverized bone.
Blood pooled, staining the floor in deep crimson.
It flowed like a river toward the blown-out entrance.
Amid the gore and ruin, Seraphine stood still, lost in thought.
"The mechanics of the Shadow Domain seem to be deeply entangled with the Spiritual Dimension, which means..."
"Both Sorren and Abram, their Hexagram Powers are also tied to the Spiritual Dimension."
She wrapped her arms around herself, murmuring, "This can't be a coincidence. There's something behind this. It's far too deliberate…"
The Flesh and Blood Mysticism Sect.
She activated Chaos Calculation.
Within thirty seconds, a faint yet distinct answer surfaced in her mind.
[Eliondra... Witchcraft Association... Secret Society]
"…I see."
Seraphine narrowed her eyes.
"Perhaps it's time I paid a visit to Eliondra."
In truth, within the vast interconnected lore of the Dragonblood franchise, a sprawling intellectual property encompassing video games, novels, manga, merchandise, live-action adaptations, and even stage plays,
There existed two relatively well-known, yet conflicting, theories about the origins of Eliondra's Witchcraft System.
The first theory,
Originated from an award-winning horror animated short film from the Old World. The film, steeped in Cthulhu-esque aesthetics, had once taken home a major prize at an international anime expo.
Though technically part of the Dragonblood universe, the animation was set primarily on the continent of Eliondra, with a narrative and tone far removed from the franchise's main storylines.
According to this version,
In the era paralleling Ancient Greece, somewhere on the continent of Eliondra, there lived a destitute, nameless Astrologer.
While wandering through the wilderness, he stumbled upon a hidden cavern nestled in the foothills of the Alps. There, buried beneath dust and time, he discovered a strange, ancient tome, its origins unknown.
And from the moment he laid hands on that book, an inexplicable compulsion overtook him.
He had to perform the ritual detailed inside.
He needed to.
As if the very purpose of his life had been waiting for this moment.
Driven by obsession, the Astrologer, once a withered broken man, began traversing cities and towns, deceiving and begging, all in pursuit of the ritual's arcane components.
His goal: to conduct an ancient God-Summoning Rite as described in the book.
Ironically, the Astrologer had never believed in gods. The Olympians worshipped by the people of his homeland meant nothing to him.
Years of witnessing humanity's rot, ignorance, betrayal, death, had long shattered his faith in the world and in himself.
All that remained was bitterness… and an overwhelming thirst for answers.
What was the meaning of his existence?
Of this world?
Of the universe, so vast and overflowing with both wonder and terror?
And so,
He performed the ritual.
He reached out, not to a deity, but to the stars themselves.
And from beyond, something responded.
From a buried forgotten abyss in the universe, an entity, ancient and immense, turned its gaze toward him.
That gaze alone shattered his body and soul.
But the story did not end there.
His fractured soul, under the influence of that unknowable power, twisted and reshaped itself.
It became something... other.
A grotesque, malformed Soul-Spirit.
The first of its kind.
The earliest, most ancient Witch.
But in Seraphine's eyes,
This so-called "ancient witch" bore far more resemblance to a corrupted being, something tainted by an unknowable Evil God.
A Primordial Demon, born from cosmic ruin.
Its abilities, as described in the short film, were eerily similar to the demon from the 1998 film "Fallen", a villainous entity that could possess others.
But unlike the creature in Fallen, whose possession was limited by physical contact and time constraints…
This Primordial Demon operated on a terrifying scale.
It could possess others across kilometers, purely through a spiritual field, and existed entirely in a soul state.
Its corrupted, warped Soul-Form could remain in the material world indefinitely.
And despite being called a "witch," the entity in the film never once used what could be called proper Witchcraft.
It simply descended into uncontrollable madness.
Wherever it went, it brought nothing but brutality and slaughter.
In truth, it bore little resemblance to the archetype of a Witch.
Rather, the entity seemed to be the animator's personal allegory, an abstract expression of madness and chaos, crafted to critique the establishment and reflect countercultural disillusionment.
As for the second origin theory,
It came not from official media, but from a wildly popular piece of European Fan Fiction set within the Dragonblood universe.
That fan-author, dissatisfied with how weakly the western power systems were portrayed compared to Eastern Martial Arts, had painstakingly developed an entirely new Witchcraft Framework to balance the scales.
According to that version,
The original Witch did not emerge during the Middle Ages.
He descended.
This "Founder of Witchcraft" was no native lifeform of Earth.
What exactly the plot entailed, Seraphine didn't know. She'd never read the fanfic herself, only seen a few out-of-context quotes floating around on character battle forums.
Still, even without reading a word of it, Seraphine had managed to pick up a few scattered details.
For example,
Morningstar, Resplendent Moon, Shining Sun.
These were the Witch Rank Classifications within that fanmade system.
Beyond that, she knew nothing else.
Of course, these two were merely the better-known versions of the origin theories behind Witchcraft.
There were undoubtedly more obscure interpretations.
But Seraphine couldn't recall them. Simply because she had never encountered them.
After all, in her previous life, she was just another overworked office drone scraping by, not some diehard 2D media fanatic with time to spare for niche lore.
She gave a faint shake of her head.
Instinctively, Seraphine extended her Spiritual Power, scanning the area and collecting any residual information or data worth analyzing.
Meanwhile, her thoughts drifted to the Frankenstein Corporation.
In truth, long before Selene's modification.
Back when Seraphine first gained access to the Sacred Society's core technologies, what is now widely known as the Frankenstein Corporation's technological foundation, a question had already taken root in her mind.
How?
How had the Flesh Mysticism Sect, or the Frankenstein Corporation, come to possess technology so far beyond the scope of Earth's scientific paradigm?
Where did these advancements actually come from?
Driven by that question, Seraphine began deducing based on everything she had come to understand about the organization.
The most plausible answer emerged clearly:
The Abraham Machine.
That device was the likeliest source of all their Black Technology.
But then came the next question:
Where did the Abraham Machine originate?
In the original work, "Superpower Struggle", there was no satisfying explanation.
The game never attempted to justify the Sacred Society's bizarre arsenal of supernatural technologies.
It only hinted that the group's enigmatic leader, Monroe Holmes, had recovered the Abraham Machine from deep beneath the ocean long ago.
Beyond that?
Nothing.
No origin.
No context.
Of course, "Superpower Struggle" was, at its core, just a video game.
It prioritized entertainment over coherence.
But in reality, or at least in any logically constructed system, a technology can't just appear out of nowhere. No matter how secret or forbidden, there must be breadcrumbs to follow. It cannot remain a complete and unexplained [Black Box].
And so, Seraphine's suspicions deepened.
Her thoughts sharpened.
By her current understanding, science could be defined as:
A systematic body of knowledge, intellectual activity, and practical methodology dedicated to observing, organizing, and explaining the structure and behavior of all phenomena, while producing predictions that can be tested.
In this context, predictability and falsifiability are two critical pillars of science.
Science is rooted in [Research], an active, systematic approach to collecting and analyzing information.
Its purpose: to discover, explain, and organize facts, events, behaviors, and theories.
Scientific research is always built on a foundation of prior knowledge, derived from observation, experimentation, and mathematical modeling.
In modern science, the general research process includes five core steps:
1. Formulate a question.
2. Propose a hypothesis.
3. Predict the results.
4. Conduct experiments.
5. Analyze the data.
Science is flexible.
But regardless of structure, one thing is absolute:
These steps require a free, open, and information-rich environment to exist.
Which means, no scientific breakthrough, no matter how advanced, can emerge without precedent, without exchange, without foundation.
In short: the evolution of all scientific technology must leave traces.
And yet, the Frankenstein Corporation's vast arsenal of ultra-advanced technologies shows none.
No precedents.
No intermediary developments.
No presentations at global tech expos. No published papers. No references in peer-reviewed journals.
Nothing.
These technologies simply appeared.
Fully-formed.
Flawless.
Functionally complete.
As if summoned into existence.
And that? That is scientifically impossible.
No revolutionary system, especially one at the bleeding edge, can manifest ex nihilo, without any lineage or scaffolding.
Such a scenario defies every principle of scientific progress.
Therefore, by logical deduction, there's only one viable conclusion:
These so-called Black Technologies must originate from outside the known scientific ecosystem.
From beyond the [Earth's Civilization's Scientific and Technological System].
A closed-loop system that does not explain the Frankenstein Corporation's innovations.
"In other words..."
Seraphine's lips curved into a smile. Her eyes gleamed with dark curiosity.
"Alien technology."
And if she could seize that alien knowledge, if she could decode and absorb what the Frankenstein Corporation had hidden away, then her martial arts system would undergo a detonation-level breakthrough.
"Perfect timing," she mused.
"I'll use this Abram body to investigate. After all, any damage to this spiritual projection won't affect my true body."
Her decision made, Seraphine turned on her heel and strode forward without hesitation.
BANG!
She casually slapped the mangled lab door aside.
It flew open, revealing a sleek, silver-grey metallic corridor stretching before her.
Just then,
THUMP THUMP THUMP...
Footsteps echoed from the far end, rhythmic and urgent.
Coming closer.
Seraphine tilted her head, amused.
"…Ah."
A soft chuckle escaped her lips as the shadow at her feet flared outward.
From it, two massive shadow blades erupted, thick, jagged, and razor-sharp. With a violent swing, they carved twin, snarling trenches along the metal floor, racing toward the corridor's end.
SZZZZZZZZZZT!!!
The ceiling and floor split under their passage, deep, asymmetrical scars cut clean through silver steel, as if torn by titanic hands.
And just then, the security team reached the corner.
They turned.
And they saw them.
Two immense shadow blades racing toward them like lightning bolts made of void.
Terror erupted in their eyes.
Panic overtook reason.
"No!"
"What is that?!"
"HELP ME!!!"
"LORD ABOVE!!!"
In an instant, the shadow blades sliced through the air, gouts of blood and severed limbs flew in every direction.
Who died, and how many perished, was unknown.
But that didn't matter.
THUMP ~ THUMP ~
Seraphine's swift footsteps echoed down the corridor, now drenched in blood and scattered with mangled corpses.
Suddenly, she came to a halt.
"Huh… the Base Guards were actually armed with a Minigun?"
Shadows stirred around her, lifting a heavy machine gun from among the fallen bodies and suspending it in front of her.
It was unmistakably a Minigun, known across battlefields as a merciless meat grinder.
CRACK CRACK CRACK!
In the blink of an eye, the sleek black weapon disassembled itself, its components unraveling like the slender tentacles of an octopus. The parts circled Seraphine in midair.
She regarded the hovering pieces, raised a hand to her chin, and murmured:
"I just had an idea."
Her memories surged forward. Countless schematics, formulas, and parameters from the firearms industry converged into a comprehensive mental framework.
A firearm is merely an iron tube with a damaged rear seal.
Its destructive principle is simple: ignite the gunpowder to generate high temperature and pressure, launching the bullet at extreme speed.
As the bullet travels through the rifling, it is forced into high-speed spin, striking its target with kinetic force.
The essence of a firearm lies in energy conversion across materials and states.
A gun embodies the culmination of centuries of human military-industrial advancement, the refined product of Earth's long, bloody legacy of weaponized evolution.
In this moment, Seraphine found inspiration.
A new way to enhance the utility of her Shadow Ability.
"Abram can only simulate crude cold weapons using shadows."
"But with my understanding of firearms, I can attempt something more complex."
Her Spiritual Projection stirred.
Abram's confused and dulled soul instantly began channeling unknown power from the Spiritual Dimension, drawn through that mysterious door.
The Shadows beneath her surged outward, unleashing dozens of tendrils.
These near-ethereal appendages quickly took shape, forming receivers, barrels, stocks, and even individual bullets.
Piece by piece, these ink-black components began assembling on their own. Within seconds, they formed a semi-illusory Minigun.
"The chemical makeup of gunpowder can't be reproduced using shadow constructs, but…"
Seraphine eyed the shadowbound weapon, its black frame anchored by tendrils, and mused:
"…I can use Telekinesis to apply micro-compression and simulate the explosive energy of a gunpowder detonation."
Even though the Spiritual Projection currently hosting her Telekinesis was relatively weak, simulating small-scale airbursts required only extreme precision.
For Seraphine, whose Telekinetic control reached the subatomic scale, it was child's play.
In an instant, her Telekinesis spiraled into the shadow bullet's casing, infusing the round with kinetic force.
Then, the firearm discharged.
BANG!
A dark projectile, forged from living shadow, blasted from the muzzle.
It tore through the air before slamming into the metal wall ahead.
THUD!
A clean bullet mark instantly appeared on the surface.
Without warning, the vast Shadow beneath Seraphine's feet flooded across the floor and crept up the surrounding walls.
A moment later, over a hundred black Miniguns emerged from the shifting shadows. All of them aimed forward and unleashed a synchronized storm of fire.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!
A deafening, relentless barrage.
When the final echo faded, the wall ahead was left shredded and cratered, barely holding together.
"If I simulate muscles using shadow, and channel Dragonwave Force into the bullet's propulsion… the destructive output should spike exponentially."
She moved without hesitation.
Another hulking Minigun emerged from the wall's shadows, but this one was different.
The rear of the machine gun swelled, giving rise to thick cords of blackened muscle-like tissue, their sinewy fibers winding tightly around the ammunition housing. Each strand fused with the weapon, penetrating deep into its core.
The gun fired.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!
This time, the report was deeper, heavy like the sound of collapsing steel.
The point of impact began to corrode, melting and weakening like it had been soaked in concentrated acid.
CREEAAK...
With a groan of metal fatigue, the wall crumbled into rubble.
…
After navigating seven turns through the sterile corridor, Seraphine stepped into an expansive laboratory chamber.
The lab was dominated by a towering machine, thick with cables, whirring softly as it ran.
Several dozen metal pipes extended upward, connecting directly into white-paneled walls embedded with multiple glass chambers.
Seraphine's eyes swept over them.
Inside each glass compartment, almost like transparent coffins, lay grotesquely muscular, bald women. Their eyes were shut tight, breathing shallow.
"Genetic augmentation experiments?"
She guessed.
Suddenly, their bodies began to twitch.
Signs of imminent awakening.
Seeing this, the Shadow beneath Seraphine's feet erupted into dozens of long, drill-tipped tendrils. They launched forward like bullets toward every glass compartment.
CRACK CRACK CRACK SNAP!
A chorus of shattering glass and splintering bone erupted.
In the blink of an eye, the tendrils had brutally pierced through the compartments and rammed straight into the skulls of the test subjects.
Blood sprayed. Brains burst.
Within seconds, every glass chamber had been transformed into a display of headless corpses and gore.
Severed limbs, shattered glass, splattered blood, everywhere.
The laboratory now resembled a set torn from a horror film.
Yet Seraphine's expression didn't change.
Cold. Detached. Unflinching.
With her hands calmly clasped behind her back, she continued walking, entering yet another pitch-black metal corridor.
...
In hidden corners of the Corridor, dozens of micro-surveillance cameras came alive. Their lenses swiveled in unison to lock onto Seraphine, recording silently.
Within milliseconds, image data was digitized and streamed through metallic conduits.
The wires led deep underground, channeling the signal into relay devices.
Data was processed and relayed downward to a destination one hundred meters below.
That destination was a sealed metal chamber.
Inside, a monitor bathed the dark room in dim light, displaying Seraphine walking through the Corridor.
Advanced optical tuning systems adjusted brightness in real time.
In front of the screen sat a stern white man, eyes fixed on the footage.
This was Anthony Kenn, Head of Security for the Frankenstein Corporation's Losngel City Branch.
Suddenly, a deep voice echoed in the chamber.
"Anthony."
Floating before him was a glowing 3D projection of a man.
Anthony stood and bowed respectfully. "Mr. Flander."
The projection depicted another white man—majestic and cold-eyed.
This was the supreme commander of all security forces under the Frankenstein Corporation.
Sky Star – Domingo Flander.
Flander's voice was commanding:
"You've seen it. Abram has undergone some transformation. The Boss and I suspect Seraphine is involved."
"I can no longer reach her. Your task is simple: assemble a team, locate Abram, and bring him in."
Anthony's brows twitched. "But… Abram is a high-tier superpower user."
"Irrelevant," Flander cut in. "Abram isn't trained for combat. Deploy high-intensity shadowless lamps to neutralize his abilities, and he can be taken down."
Flander narrowed his eyes.
"Also… where is Sawyer?"
Anthony replied, "Mr. Sawyer left the base not long ago. His mood wasn't good."
Flander: "Understood. I'll assign him to assist you. With him involved, Abram won't get away."
Anthony hesitated. "Mr. Sawyer and Abram are blood brothers. Will he be willing to take part?"
Flander's tone grew colder.
"You misunderstand, Anthony. If not for the organization, both would've rotted in the slums. He dares not—and will not—refuse."
Anthony bowed slightly.
"Understood, Mr. Flander."
...
Seraphine stood before a massive glass panel.
Through the reinforced glass, she gazed into a semi-circular garden.
It resembled a landscape exhibit from a museum.
Everything inside was silver.
Under high-intensity lamps, the terrain crawled with silver-blue organic tissue, writhing like something alive.
Farther out, moss-like plants crept up the rock walls.
They pulsed with bioluminescent hues of ghostly blue and pale silver.
Long, serpentine vines in shades of steel-gray dangled from the ceiling.
From that metallic soil, strange silver "trees" sprouted.
Thick, metallic leaves fanned out from these trunks like slabs of forged metal.
Everything was shrouded in a swirling, blue-grey mist.
"Definitely not of Earth…"
Seraphine stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"I'm convinced this organization is tied to extraterrestrials."
She didn't hesitate.
With a flick of will, her Mental Power pierced through the glass, reaching into the fog.
Her eyes sharpened.
"…Mercury vapor."
"This garden simulates a mercury-based biosphere."
She flipped through her Mental Power archive—scanning the narrative of "Dragonblood".
"Could this be connected to the Mercury Race? The invaders from the second arc?"
Just then, rustling stirred the alien foliage.
Seraphine looked up.
The dense growth trembled, then parted.
From the depths of the silver garden, a creature crawled into view.
And it was hideous.
Like something stitched together from two different human bodies.
It looked like a burly, oversized man with his head flung back and body grotesquely melted, sunken into the abdomen of a smaller, elderly man hunched behind him.
The brute's head, with gnashing teeth, emerged from the gaping maw on the back of the old man's skull.
The old man's face and torso had bloated beyond recognition.
Two thick arms—belonging to the burly man—pierced outward through the armpits, digging into the soil.
The brute's legs had twisted forward unnaturally until they burst into a dozen malformed little hands.
Each tiny hand gripped a silver branch, fingers writhing with spasmodic strength.
Monstrous. Deformed. Abominable.
A thing that broke the definition of ugliness.
Outside the glass, Seraphine narrowed her eyes.
"…Disgusting."
If she had to describe it, it resembled a nightmare hybrid from "The Thing".
Her disgust flared.
"Die."
With a thought, her Telekinesis surged forward, wrapping around the creature with surgical precision.
CRACK CRACK CRACK!!!
A symphony of snapping joints and rupturing flesh followed.
Within seconds, the howling abomination had been crushed, twisted into a mangled sculpture of meat and bone.
Seraphine turned and walked away.
As she moved, her thoughts returned to "Dragonblood", and to the ominous threat posed by the Mercury Race.