"Lord Ansel, may I enter?" a voice asked, followed by three soft knocks against the door.
Ansel sat motionless in the dimly lit room, hands clasped, eyes lost in a haze. Since Knox had taken him, this strange place had become his room, his cage, nestled in the middle of nowhere.
In the two weeks he'd been in the room, he'd met several people, each stranger than the last. A man in a black mask. A broad shouldered brute with eyes like twin voids. A woman in a doctor's coat. And the maid—the one now standing behind the door.
He didn't answer.
A faint sigh passed from the other side, followed by the creak of the door opening. She entered carrying a tray: cauliflower rice and shrimp sauce. The same dish he'd quietly craved each night for the past week, though he'd never spoken a word of it aloud.
"If you don't eat, you'll be too weak when Lord Visca returns," Ruge said, setting the tray down gently.
He looked up at her. The standard black and white maid uniform framed her pale features, dark hair, and equally dark eyes watching him steadily. She was regarded in the same way by the masked man... the one Diamantis had said was some sort of god. Which had to mean she was like Knox.
A perfected human.
Or so Diamantis had claimed.
Ansel still didn't understand what they truly were.
Were they humans reshaped into myutants, like the creature he'd seen in Raval? Or myutants refined until they resembled humans?
"Where did he go?" Ansel asked, eyes glancing at the tray.
"Lord Drakoulis is currently in intensive care. When he recovers, you'll understand everything," she replied calmly.
"What happened to him?" Ansel pressed.
"He—"
"You talk too much," Knox's voice cut in as he entered the room, cool and heavy. "Leave."
"At once, Lord Knox." She bowed and slipped out without another word.
Ansel watched her go, then turned back to Knox. "Isn't she like you? Why do you speak to her like that?"
Knox's gaze narrowed. "Like me? When you look at her... do you feel it? That sickness. Latched to her heart like a parasite. The result of Drakoulis's failure."
Ansel hesitated. He hadn't sensed any disease in her.
"I didn't," he said, "wait... does that mean she's like me? A cure?"
"No," Knox replied, "She's from an experimental batch. Transmuted without Drakoulis by only Visca. Incomplete. Functional... but flawed."
"How so?"
"There's a lot of history behind it," Knox said, beginning to pace around the room. "To create a perfected human like I, you need two forces, positive and negative. Visca embodies the positive, but everything he creates eventually breaks down. That's why Harkkavel exists."
"The controller," Ansel said. "But... didn't you kill him? Why is she still alive?"
"Because a piece of Drakoulis is here, inside this very building. She can't leave, or she'll dissolve into mush," Knox replied. "Now let me ask you something."
Ansel swallowed.
"Why do you think she's not as deformed as the one in Raval, even though she's made from the same unstable positive?"
Ansel paused, thinking back on everything—what Knox had said, what Diamantis revealed... everything they'd seen.
"It's because they aren't affected."
"Bingo!" Knox nearly jumped, his grin wide as he resumed pacing. "That's the difference between us and them, Ansel. The pollution. That divine event... it chose us. We were handpicked to become the next step, the rightful rulers of this world."
Ansel didn't respond. He only stared, the plate beside him growing colder by the minute.
"The pure ones... we can't even forcibly perfect them. That's how deeply flawed they are," Knox said, almost reverently. "And maybe that's a good thing. Stealing. Killing. Hatred. Jealousy. Envy. Anger. Pride. Greed. Sloth... Those flaws don't belong in our world. They won't belong."
Ansel looked at him more closely. This wasn't about ruling over humans... it was about erasing them.
"Once every affected becomes like you... that's the world you're aiming for?"
"A world without death. Without despair. A world that's whole. Sublime." Knox looked down at him. "Who wouldn't want that?"
"You're going to murder millions."
Knox slammed his hand into the wall. Concrete broke, a hole forming to the room beside them.
"They don't belong here anymore. They never did." His voice was low, simmering. "Don't you see, Ansel? We're finishing what the universe started."
"An extermination,"
Knox grinned—wide, almost proud.
"And you," he stepped closer, so close Ansel could feel the heat of his breath, "you'll stand at the forefront of it all. With the right training, you can become everything you were meant to be—"
"I'm not helping you do anything."
The smile vanished. Irritation crept in, but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced with a mask of calm.
"That wasn't the deal." Knox's voice was quieter now. "I saved your female colleague for this exact reason."
"I'm not helping you slaughter anyone."
Knox turned away, rubbing his temple.
"You're fighting for people who shouldn't even exist," he muttered, then glanced back to look at him. "You're fighting for the ones who kept us down for a century."
Ansel hesitated. The words caught in his throat, but only for a moment.
"I won't help you," he said. "That's not going to change."
Knox caught the pause—just for a second—and smiled, faintly.
"That's fine," he said, gesturing toward the door. "Finish your meal. There's something I want to show you."
Ansel watched him leave. He already knew what Knox would show him. Something he'd lived with his entire life. A truth that followed him like a shadow.
He reached for the spoon, his hand hovering.
He was so hungry, yet unable to eat.
What a dilemma.
Minutes passed. The sun lowered, shining amber light across the horizon, just enough to illuminate the world while letting the dark slip quietly in.
The carriage rocked front to back, its wheels clattering over stones and loose sand as it rumbled through the depths. Knox had suggested they fly on the back of a myutant. Ansel had quickly shut down the idea.
Now they sat in silence.
The windows were shut tight. Knox lounged across from him, one leg crossed over the other, idly adjusting the blue tie of a crisp new shirt.
Ansel had caught glimpses through the curtains, they were heading toward Khankar. But for what?
The carriage jolted to a stop.
The driver, a quiet man they'd found near a collapsed haven and hired for a few credits, looked back over his shoulder. "We're here, boss."
"Thank y—" Ansel started, but the words died in his mouth as the man's body slumped sideways and dropped from the carriage.
A thin string of blood slithered back from his neck into Knox's fingertip.
Ansel stared. "Why did you do that?"
Knox didn't flinch. "He's just as responsible for what I'm about to show you. They pretend ignorance to the horrors around them, not realizing they're part of the problem." He flexed his fingers. "He deserved death much earlier than I gave it."
Ansel exhaled slowly. Seeing someone die like that—so cleanly, so quietly—made his stomach twist, hands shudder. But he forced himself to stay composed.
He turned his eyes to Knox. "So what are we doing here? Why come all the way to Khankar right before dusk?"
Knox raised the curtain and pointed through the window. "See that sector over there?"
Ansel glanced out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing.
"That's called Arkat—or in layman's terms, a segregation zone," Knox said, hand clenching into a fist. "To the fine people of Khankar, anyone mutated is a sickness. We are a cancer, something that must be contained before we destroy the world."
Ansel looked again. Beyond the carriage window, a fenced-in camp was nestled within the haven, just by the very edge.
Hundreds, maybe thousands, sat in the dirt. Some wept, others looked hollow, already dying. Four guards stood watch at the perimeter, dressed in border patrol vests, their faces hidden behind gas masks, fingers resting lazily on the triggers of large caliber rifles.
"Do you see how they treat us?" Knox muttered. "Despite how much better we are?"
"Everyone is equal," Ansel said under his breath.
"No," Knox replied coldly. "Life has never been equal. Not between man and woman, not between ant and lion. Nature doesn't deal in fairness, and neither should we."
He gestured toward the camp.
"We could reduce that haven to ash in a matter of minutes. The mutations they fear, they spit on and curse. They're our strength. Why won't you see that?"
"Then why not help them?" Ansel asked. "If they're strong, if you care... why not save them? Why me?"
Knox paused, then answered softly, "Because we are the frontline. The ones who will usher in the new world. In time, they'll be saved too. All of our siblings, our family—reborn."
"I'm not part of your family."
Knox leaned forward, "You've thought about it, haven't you? Walking into a bar, a hotel, anywhere public. And everyone stares. Disgusted. Judging you... for a mutation as minor as the color of your hair."
Ansel stayed silent.
"And in that moment," Knox pressed, "didn't you want to kill them? Didn't a voice whisper, Iwanttokillthemall?"
"You don't know me."
Knox only smiled. "That's why we're here. Bonding. I want to understand you, Ansel. I want to know your pain. Your heart, to show you that we can—"
"Whatever you're trying to do, it won't work," Ansel cut in. "I'm not helping you. And if I have to. I'll kill myself before I become part of this."
Knox stilled, the performance peeling away from his face.
"Stubbornness will get you nowhere," he said, reclining again. The carriage creaked as it rocked backward. "I just hope you realize that... before it's too late."
"I won't," Ansel said firmly. "So save yourself the trouble and take me back."
Knox's face shifted, lips curling into a sneer. "So it all comes down to that place. That building. Those people." His voice twisted with disdain. "That woman."
"I already told you, if you hurt them—"
"Your threats mean nothing," Knox snapped. "Everyone in that building will die. That affected you call your leader. That girl you call a friend? I will kill them myself."
Ansel leaned forward, "Don't—"
"Oh, don't worry. You'll get front-row seats," Knox laughed, "You'll watch Winterglaides painted red, turned into a mausoleum. You'll see the light in their eyes go out... one by one."
"Don't... please."
"I just hope you let go of their memories before they crush you," Knox said, stepping out of the carriage. "Spare yourself the torment."
He turned back with a grin. "I hope I see him again. There's no way he died from that, I made sure of it." He shivered as he spoke. "I wonder what his reaction would be when I show him that little girl's head, or the brown-haired one. Oh, how I long to see his face."
Ansel froze.
"Will he scream?" Knox asked, voice barely above a whisper. "I hope he screams."