As time passed and the anesthetic's effect faded, the experimental subject—newly modified by Dr. Stylish himself—suddenly opened his eyes wide. The blood vessels on his eyeballs bulged vividly, his fists clenched, and his muscles swelled violently. Veins protruded all over his body, but since all his joints had been replaced with metal, he couldn't move at all without activation.
"Roar—!"
Upon seeing the silver-white figure standing beside the operating table, the experimental subject bellowed furiously and struggled madly, his face twisting into madness and hysteria.
"It was you who performed the modification on him, Dr. Stylish, so why does he look like he hates me so much?" Selene asked in surprise, clearly not recognizing this man at all.
Not because of me—because of you, General! You really do have a short memory. This prisoner lost everything during the recent political purges because of the cleansing order you and Minister Honest issued. Of course he hates you! Dr. Stylish thought, but he didn't dare say it out loud. He could only stammer awkwardly. "Uh..."
"Alright, release his joint restraints," Selene ordered calmly.
"Y-yes, General... but please, go easy on him."
Knowing Selene's strength, Dr. Stylish wasn't at all worried for her safety. What worried him was that she might accidentally demolish his entire lab again. After all, she had history: capturing bandits and spies had almost led to her blowing up half the Capital; her battle at Yule Mountain Pass nearly leveled the entire southwestern range; and during the suppression of the southwestern rebels, she had wiped out entire tribes.
In short, the tales surrounding Selene had grown darker and more exaggerated with every telling. To most people, she was nothing less than a violent, battle-hungry monster wrapped in human form.
Click—
As Dr. Stylish released the locks on the metal limbs, a series of mechanical clacks filled the air. The next instant, the experimental subject erupted into motion, lunging forward with his metal-clad fist aimed straight at Selene's face.
The metal-sheathed muscles glistened under the lab lights, looking as though chunks of granite had been stacked beneath his skin.
"Roar—!" It seemed the modification had cost him the ability to speak.
Clang!
Selene raised a single finger, effortlessly stopping the strike. She felt the force transmitted through her fingertip—roughly six hundred kilograms.
A weak civil official turned into this after a single modification? Impressive. These metal prosthetics truly showed potential.
"Acceptable," she said evenly. "But your role here is over."
Vmm— A wave of violet-red Honkai energy surged from Selene's fingertip, enveloping the subject entirely. In an instant, the experimental body disintegrated into ash—leaving not even dust behind.
Watching the stunned Dr. Stylish, Selene rubbed her temples and said lightly, "Hmm. Dr. Stylish, I've seen enough of your results. Not bad—I see potential in your work."
"You flatter me, General," Dr. Stylish replied humbly.
Selene gave a faint nod. "There's no need for false modesty. You've got talent. I'll give you another task—develop prosthetics that can be mass-produced for the army. They should allow disabled soldiers to regain full combat function."
"I'll inform Minister Honest to increase the Science Bureau's funding. But remember—quality over quantity. I won't tolerate shoddy work. If any official interferes, report directly to me."
"Yes, General."
...
Back at her mansion, Selene sat down and began carefully reviewing the stack of documents Dr. Stylish had provided.
Knock, knock.
"Milady," came Sebas' deep, resonant voice from beyond the door.
Selene looked up. "Oh, Sebas. Come in."
"Milady, I've discovered something concerning one of the commercial guilds associated with our General's Residence."
"Oh?" Selene asked with mild curiosity. "For you to bring it up personally, it must be serious. What happened?"
"It's about the southern rebel forces."
Sebas' expression was grave. "While investigating the financial activities of our affiliated merchants, I found that many guilds from southern provinces have recently been establishing contact with us. And just a week ago, someone used our guild's name to access military intelligence at several southern garrisons."
The moment she heard the report, Selene's good mood vanished.
Her recent campaign to suppress the southwestern tribes had only just ended. Her influence and authority in the southwest—and in the southern provinces beyond—remained overwhelming. To exploit her reputation for someone's own ends... that was a clever move indeed.
And in the southern provinces, there was only one faction that constantly opposed the Empire and sought trouble—the Revolutionary Army.
Selene chuckled coldly. "It seems these so-called revolutionaries are growing restless. To think they'd try to use my name for their schemes."
"Send out a public statement," she ordered. "Declare that we have no commercial operations in the southern provinces. As for the rest—don't bother, Sebas. Just keep our merchant network stable."
"Milady, do you mean...?"
Selene's crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. "Someone came knocking, asking for a fight. How could I possibly refuse? Let's play with them for a bit."
Well now... usually I'm the one hunting others down. And today someone actually came seeking me out? she thought, lips curling into a faint smile.
...
A week later, deep in the mountain ranges of the Empire's southern province.
The forest lay still, shrouded in heavy silence—until two figures in black cloaks emerged from the outskirts, running frantically into the dense woods.
They glanced back repeatedly as they ran, eyes wide with fear, as if some terrifying Danger Beast was pursuing them.
Only when they burst through a forest path and saw a group of armed Revolutionary Army soldiers guarding the entrance ahead did they finally stop, gasping for air.
Before the guards could even question them, the two cloaked men quickly formed a strange hand sign and muttered an intricate passphrase.
Recognizing the code, the guards' expressions grew serious, and they immediately stepped aside to let them pass.
Inside the concealed camp beyond lay the Revolutionary Army's temporary base. Only then did the two finally relax.
They had made it out alive.
Pulling back their hoods, they revealed their faces and bodies beneath.
The sight was shocking—their skin was nothing like that of normal men. Everywhere not covered by their robes—arms, necks, even their faces—was covered in layers of dried blood and scabs.
Some wounds were still open and bleeding.
"At last... we're back," one of them breathed, his voice trembling with exhaustion. Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the dirt. Yet even lying in the dust, his expression showed only relief at having survived.
"Yeah... we made it out alive," the other murmured, slumping beside him.
But as the memories came flooding back, both men's faces twisted in horror and lingering dread.