"What is that? "Sophia's voice was soft, curious. The cold flicker of the red gem reflected in her eyes like fire caught in glass.
"This," Ann replied, holding it between her fingers with reverence, "is a gem Virella made for us, Sophia."
It pulsed faintly — not like a stone, but like a heartbeat. Dim. Rhythmic. Alive.
"And... what are you going to do with it, if you don't mind me asking?"
Ann smiled gently, but her eyes betrayed the seriousness beneath her calm tone. "Well, you see, my perfect trainee… this gem will be going inside a human body to test magical amplification. We've already gone through 37 subjects this month alone. All failures. All dead. "She paused, watching the stone glow faint red against her palm. "But every failure sharpens the blade of progress."
"How long has this research been going on, Miss Ann?" Sophia asked, her breath fogging faintly in the cold mountain air.
Ann's expression grew still. The silence pressed in for a moment.She looked at the gem again, its light painting her cheekbones crimson."Around three months now. We've been in winter trials for two. Since the last battle, the rate of volunteers — and forced candidates — has increased. Many people are studying science and biology now. We're advancing faster than I ever dreamed. And yet... we're still so blind."
Sophia nodded slowly."I suppose that's what makes it fun, ma'am. The unknown."
"Yes," Ann said, then turned sharply. "Follow me. You've never seen the lower labs, have you? The testing chamber. It's deep — far into the mountain."
They walked down spiral stone steps, the air growing colder, damper with each level. The walls began to sweat. Torches gave way to iron lanterns, then oil lamps nailed to the walls. Thick steel pipes lined the ceiling — some steaming softly, others dead and rusted. It smelled like blood and rust. A tunnel carved by desperation and progress.
Every few dozen steps, they passed thick iron doors flanked by two men in long black coats. Each soldier held a bolt-action rifle across his chest — fingers twitching, eyes alert.
Boots echoed. Helmets turned.
The guards didn't speak as they passed the first checkpoint — only nodded.
At the second checkpoint, two men blocked the path, crossing rifles in front of the door.
"Researcher pass," one barked sharply.
Ann reached calmly into her coat, retrieved a leather-bound card, and held it up. A blood-red stamp marked its center. The guard scanned it, then looked at Sophia. "And the girl?"
"My trainee," Ann replied. "She has no card yet."
The guard stared for a long moment. Then:"...Understood. You may enter."
The iron door opened with a mechanical grind.
The testing chamber was enormous. Carved from the belly of the mountain itself. Hundreds of oil lamps flickered along the edges, giving the cold stone a sickly golden hue. The ceiling was high and vaulted with support beams of riveted black steel. Smoke and breath hung in the air like mist.
At the center of the room was a raised surgical platform — a man strapped down with leather and iron bands. His skin was pale, veins bulging. His chest rose in shallow, wheezing gasps.
Around him, desks were scattered in uneven rows — dozens of researchers in wool coats scribbled on parchment, passed reports, and filed documents into crates. The smell of ink, sweat, and burnt metal clung to the room like rot.
When Ann entered, every researcher stood instantly. Papers dropped. Chairs scraped back.
"Is it time for the next test?" one called out.
Ann nodded, her voice calm and firm. "Yes. Let's begin."
Surgeons approached the strapped man with blades wrapped in white cloth. A tray was wheeled forward — glinting silver, steaming water, iron tongs.
Two held his arms. Another removed the straps across his chest.
"Scalpel," one whispered.
They began cutting. First, the skin — peeled away with practiced hands. Then the muscle — sliced, folded, clamped aside. The room echoed with the sound of metal on bone. They cracked open his ribcage like a chest of drawers, exposing the still-beating heart within.
Blood pooled down the iron table, dripping onto the stone below.
"Vitals dropping," a woman hissed. "He's fading—"
"Virella," Ann called sharply.
A gust of cold wind seemed to rush in from nowhere. The torches flickered.
Virella floated down like a ghost — her blonde curls glowing faintly in the lamplight, blue eyes radiant, hands already raised. Her magic danced between her fingers like fireflies in the dark.
A soft hum filled the air.
The man's body arched as her light touched his chest — veins glowing faint blue for a moment, then stabilizing.
"He's holding," she said softly. "Now. Insert the stone."
Ann stepped forward.
She placed the gem carefully into the surgeon's tongs. The faint red glow pulsed against the iron. It shimmered in Virella's magic.
The surgeons lowered it into the man's chest cavity, slowly guiding it toward the heart.
"Ready," a surgeon whispered.
Virella closed her eyes.
"Begin fusion."
The moment the stone touched the heart, the entire room trembled. Oil lamps flickered violently. The air thickened.
Red light surged through the man's veins — flooding outward in bursts beneath his skin. His arms tensed. His legs twitched.
Then his eyes opened wide — glowing scarlet. Blood leaked from the corners, running down his cheeks like tears.
His mouth opened in a silent scream.
Everyone backed away.
Smoke rose from the table. The scent of scorched flesh filled the air.
"Virella!" Ann called.
"It's working!" Virella shouted over the hum. "His body is accepting it—his mana stream is aligning—"
She clapped her hands together, magic pouring outward in a blinding burst.
Then silence.
The red veins faded. The glow vanished.
The man fell still.
"Check his pulse!" Ann ordered.
A doctor rushed forward, pressed two fingers to the man's neck.
Silence.
Then:
"...He's alive!" the doctor screamed. "Pulse is steady!"
Gasps. Cheers.
"YES!" someone shouted.
Two researchers embraced.
Another man leapt from his desk, spinning in place and grabbing his colleague's arms. "It worked—IT WORKED!"
One of the younger scientists ran to a shelf, grabbed a dusty bottle of wine, popped the cork, and raised it high. "TO THE FUTURE!"
A cork bounced off the stone wall.
Someone kissed their partner. Someone else wept openly.
Ann exhaled slowly, her hand still holding the edge of the surgical table. Her knuckles were white.
Sophia stood frozen, wide-eyed, heart pounding.
Virella floated to the side of the table and looked down at the man's unconscious face.
She whispered: "Subject Thirty-Eight... survived."