The stone corridors swallowed their footsteps as Crow led them deeper into the sector.
The light from the crystal globes followed them, shifting as though alive, throwing pale shadows across the walls.
Grimm trailed behind the other three, one hand brushing his ribs where bruises still throbbed.
His mind tried to process Crow's words, tried to file away every piece of information as if his life depended on it—because it probably did.
Crow's voice carried easily, calm and sharp like a knife sliding across glass.
"You four will now be catered to the Soul Integration Room. There, We will personally choose an essence for you."
The survivors exchanged quiet glances, but no one dared ask. Grimm kept his eyes down, but his ears were sharp.
"The first essence is the most important for a non-cultivator. Your body will adapt to it completely. It will shape your behavior, your attitude, your skills. In a sense, it will become your identity."
Grimm's chest tightened.
'Identity?'
Crow continued without pause.
"If the essence chosen for you does not match your soul, it will corrupt you and turn you into something disfigured or a monster."
The word lingered in the air like frost. Grimm imagined bones jutting out from flesh, jaws splitting open, human screams twisted into animal howls. His throat grew dry.
"But I have no use for monsters," Crow added flatly.
"You passed the test. So you have value."
The children said nothing. Even the strongest among them seemed unwilling to breathe too loud.
"Every essence can enhance the host's body, mind, or soul. Since this is your first, it will strengthen all three."
That caught Grimm's attention. His eyes narrowed faintly.
'Strengthened body, mind, and soul... like a foundation.'
It sounded almost hopeful, though Crow's tone left no room for comfort.
At last, the hallway widened. Before them stood a great set of iron doors engraved with curling symbols.
Faint light bled through the cracks.
Crow pushed them open, and the heavy groan of metal echoed down the stone passage.
"This," he said, stepping aside, "is the Soul Integration Room."
Grimm's skin prickled as he peered in. Whatever was beyond those doors, he knew... once he stepped inside, nothing would be the same again.
The iron doors swallowed them one by one. Grimm was the last to be pushed through a narrow archway, stone cold against his shoulders as it shut behind him.
The air changed instantly... still, heavy, carrying the scent of old dust and metal.
A single crystal light burned in the ceiling, pale and sharp, casting shadows that stretched unnaturally long.
Grimm's heart pounded faster when he noticed he wasn't alone.
A man stood there, or something pretending to be one. His mask was carved like a mantis' head, the mandibles long and hooked, painted black with streaks of green.
When he tilted his head, the crystal glow caught the surface, making the mask's hollow eyes glint.
"Ahh… little hatchling," the mantis voice rasped, soft but drawn out, every word too slow, like he enjoyed dragging it across Grimm's nerves.
"...Interesting, you've crawled your way out huh... Most… people freeze and snap, snap, snap–" he clicked his fingers in a rhythm, "before they can even breathe."
Grimm's stomach turned. His legs itched to run, but the heavy iron door behind him was sealed shut.
'Why is it always masks? Why can't I get someone normal for once? This guy feels like he crawled out of shithole.'
The mantis man stepped closer, his long fingers twitching as though they were searching for something to grab.
"You want to flee, don't you?" The man's voice thinned into a chuckle, high and insect-like.
"I can smell it. But you won't. Not yet. The room has already chosen you. And I—" he tapped his mandible mask twice with his knuckle, "—I only guide what is inevitable... Kekeke!"
Grimm's back pressed harder against the cold wall.
'He's right. I do want to run. But where? There's nowhere to go. Shit… calm down. Just breathe. He's trying to scare me. That's all. Just keep your head straight.'
The mantis tilted his head again, as though savoring Grimm's silence.
"Yes… keep that fear close. You will need it when the essence bites into you."
Grimm swallowed hard, his pulse roaring in his ears.
'Essence… right. That's what I came here for. No choice now. Just survive this. Whatever this freak does, survive it.'
The crystal light above seemed to flicker, as if agreeing with the thought.
The mantis gave him instructions to lay down into the table.
The table was colder than stone, smooth as glass, and the straps bit into Grimm's wrists and ankles the moment he lay down.
They tightened with a clank that echoed in the small room. He couldn't even wriggle his fingers.
'Lying down was a bad idea. I knew it. Damn it!'
The mantis masked man leaned over, his presence suffocating. From his coat, he pulled out a long stick with round glass lenses fixed to the end.
He adjusted them with twitching fingers and peered down at Grimm through the contraption.
"Mmm," he hummed, the sound muffled by the mask but sharp enough to cut through Grimm's chest.
"Mind domain… logic thread. Interesting. My first time seeing one up close. Not too rare, no… but always curious to prod."
Grimm's breath caught. 'He's dissecting me with his eyes. Like I'm not even a person. Just another bug on his slab.'
The mantis man set the lenses aside. His hand dipped beneath the table, and when it rose again, it carried something heavy.
A container—large as a man's torso, glass thick enough to hold a monster inside.
Grimm's heart skipped.
Inside, a centipede writhed. Its body was a grotesque rope of white segments, each joint lined with twitching red legs that scraped against the glass.
Its head slammed against the container wall, mandibles clacking, leaving faint streaks of moisture where it struck. The pattern of its body looked unnatural, as if painted in blood.
Grimm's entire body shivered.
'Out of all the bugs… why the hell did it have to be a centipede? I can't—just looking at it makes my skin crawl. No, worse. I feel it under my skin, how huge is that thing!?'
The mantis voice grew slick with delight.
"Pure thousand venom centipede. Hrrm… I had such a hard time obtaining this one. Do you see how it wriggles? Hungry. Furious. It doesn't belong with humans, no, no… most would rot if they touched it. But you—" he leaned closer, tapping the glass as if teasing the beast within, "—you might be compatible. Your mind threads with logic. And logic often tries to control poison. Also this centipede have same thread as yours... it's one of the few centipedes that has it."
He tilted his head, chuckling. "Never tested this theory, though. If you die… hm, well, I'll be scolded. Maybe punished. But mistakes… happen."
The centipede slammed itself against the container again.
The glass shuddered with a thunk. Grimm's teeth clenched, his body trembling against the restraints.
'I can't do this. I don't want this. He's insane—completely insane. If that thing touches me… No. Calm down. Don't let him see you break. Breathe. Just breathe. Survive this. Survive it, no matter what.'