That word should not have sounded so gentle.
Forever.
Mola spoke it lightly, as if offering a snack or giving a casual greeting. But in the fourth corridor, that simple word changed shape. It filled the narrow space with suffocating weight. It seeped into the skin, pierced the bone, and settled deep in the heart of everyone who heard it.
It was as if the entire corridor stopped breathing.
The air felt more humid. The faint purple glow from the walls reflected across their skin, creating long shadows that looked like dark hands moving on their own.
Dean swallowed hard. The tiny gulp sounded loud in the sudden silence.
"Forever…?" he whispered, barely audible.
Reis stood beside him. His friend's usually relaxed face was pale now, his eyes fixed on the silhouettes of the cell inhabitants. The creatures sitting, bowing, or standing behind bent metal bars looked like silent witnesses of an endless punishment.
Reis finally spoke, deliberately lowering his voice as much as possible.
"She sees us… the way she sees them."
His gaze drifted to the humanoid creatures scattered along the corridor. Many still had human proportions, while others were distorted beyond recognition. Their hollow eyes reflected the purple glow of the cores in their chests.
"Part of her collection," Reis continued. "Part of this living prison."
"But we can retreat anytime," Dean insisted, forcing hope into his tone. "The guards said we're allowed to pull back."
Reis stared at him for a long moment, sharp and wordless. He didn't need to say the harsh thoughts crossing his mind.
"Retreat to where?" he said at last. "Back to Zago, who purposely sent us here to witness all this? Back to a system that doesn't even care whether we live or die?"
The words crept in like cold mist. Dean bit his lip and stayed silent.
They didn't get a chance to continue.
Because Mola was already approaching.
Her movement was so light it made no sound. Her steps glided, as if she was floating just above the grimy stone floor. Her face remained beautiful, calm, not at all like a monster who turned humans into collectible items. But the smile on her face… that was no human smile.
"Why are you all so quiet?" Mola asked, tilting her head slightly. "Are you moved by my greeting?"
No one answered. Even Ted, who was usually blunt and reactive, only swallowed.
Clive stood in front of them. Focused. His dark eyes measured every small detail of Mola's movements. He didn't just look at her face. He watched her shoulders, her fingers, her breath, the faint pulse of the purple core in her chest. He was assessing danger—strength, patterns, possible attacks.
Mola raised her hand gently, like calming a child.
"Relax," she said softly. "I will treat you just as kindly as I treat them."
Her hand moved, gesturing toward the stone cells. That simple motion made the trapped creatures look like displays. As if they were not humans tortured through a slow and agonizing mutation process, but decorations for the room.
Clive opened his mouth to speak.
But someone stepped in front of him.
Glenn.
He moved forward.
A steady step that didn't come from logic, but from the surge of new power burning within his body. The blue core he had absorbed was still unstable. Its energy rose and fell like wild tides. A faint blue light leaked from between his fingers as he gripped the handle of his sword.
Glenn's eyes blazed with an intensity he had never shown before.
"Who wants to become a part of the fourth corridor?" he said boldly. "We came here to wipe all of you out."
The words bounced off the stone walls and crashed into the tense air.
Ted and Dorde raised their eyebrows. Zorilla straightened. Dean and Reis stared at Glenn as if seeing a frightening new side of him.
This wasn't the Glenn they knew.
The old Glenn was cold, calculating, emotionless. The old Glenn would never speak recklessly without reading the situation first.
But the Glenn standing before them now…
His face was hard. His jaw clenched tight. The blue glow in his eyes flickered erratically like flames splashed with oil. Something wild lurked behind his stare. Not courage. Excessive pride. And a hint of madness.
Dilos, who stood behind Glenn, turned quickly. His eyes widened. He had witnessed Glenn absorb a core with a high risk of death. He had seen Glenn change up close. He knew something had shifted. Something huge.
But before anyone could stop Glenn, Mola reacted.
Her smile vanished.
Not faded. Vanished, as if she had removed a mask.
Her facial skin looked paler. The look in her eyes transformed completely. Where warmth had been moments ago, now there was nothing but cold. A cold so profound it made the stone wall behind them seem frozen.
The purple glow from the core in her chest pulsed slowly.
Then she laughed.
The sound was nothing like a human laugh. Too high. Too long. Like thin glass cracking in the air. The echo twisted around them, cutting into their ears, slipping into their skulls.
Dean clutched his ears, face twisted in pain. Reis stepped back. Dorde staggered and grabbed the wall to keep standing. Zorilla clenched his teeth until they scraped. Even Clive felt dizzy.
The laughter stopped abruptly, leaving a silence even more terrifying.
And when the laughter ceased, something in Mola's expression froze. Her new smile was not human. It was the smile of someone who had found a new toy.
She raised her hand, her finger pointing straight at Glenn.
"I've decided," she said. "You will be my personal servant."
Glenn stiffened, but not out of fear. His blue eyes glowed even brighter.
His arrogance peaked.
Mola made a delicate gesture in the air. The movement was fast yet structured, like she was writing something in the air with the tip of her finger. Purple light flowed from the core in her chest, down her arm, spilling from her fingertip and forming lines of light that lingered briefly before shattering like glass fragments in the air.
And the effect was immediate.
The cells along the corridor trembled.
The creatures inside began to move.
At first slowly. Then their bodies convulsed violently. Their shoulders jerked, bones cracking one after another. The sound of breaking bones echoed clearly, like dry branches snapping underfoot.
Their mouths opened but produced no sound. Their empty eyes glowed. The purple cores in their chests burned brighter. Energy surged, making veins on their skin glow like pulsing violet roots.
The transformation began.
Skin stretched. Bones grew. Facial structures twisted. Muscles swelled or shriveled. Every second was a slow-moving nightmare.
There was no fast or magical transformation. Everything happened painfully, horribly real.
Until finally, after seconds of grotesque spasms, the creatures rose in their new forms.
Monkeys.Boars.Bats.Rats.Snakes.Green-eyed wolves.Raptors with crooked beaks.And countless other monsters.
All of them half-human, half-beast. Their eyes were empty. The purple cores in their chests pulsed as proof that they no longer possessed their own will.
Now they all stared at Clive and his group.
Mola slowly lowered her hand, then smiled faintly.
"My family," she said softly. "They are ready to welcome you."
Clive acted without hesitation.
"Everyone, fall back!" he shouted. "To the fourth corridor gate! Now!"
His group immediately responded.
Glenn did not.
He kept staring at Mola with a challenging gaze. The blue light in his body flared more wildly, as if burning him from the inside.
Clive spared Glenn a glance. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. But there was no time to understand it.
Mola raised her hand again.
"Capture them," she said calmly. "Especially him. I want him intact."
Her finger pointed directly at Glenn.
And in that instant…
Dozens of humanoid monsters moved.
Not fast. Not frantic.
But with certainty.
The steps of creatures that didn't need to run to catch their prey. Because they knew the corridor was their cage.
And they knew Clive's group had nowhere to go.
And they knew Clive's group had no way out.
The fourth corridor greeted them with an even denser scent of iron, as if the stone walls were dripping with invisible blood. There were no words to start with. No commands. Only the rhythm of heavy breaths and footsteps that automatically shifted into a defensive pattern.
The battle began even before they realized it.
Something crawled swiftly across the ceiling, like a shadow torn apart and stitched back together in seconds. Dilos raised his sword and slashed sharply without warning, cutting down a black creature that fell like a pulsating sack of flesh. The creature writhed, shrieking, before being stabbed together by Zorilla and Ted.
Clive surged forward, his body moving before his mind caught up. Every slash was clean, every step precise, and every motion felt like instinct enhanced by something watching from behind his consciousness.
Behind him, Glenn was starting to look unsteady.
At first, it was just a dragging step. Then breathing that wouldn't sync. Then the faint cracking sound of ribs that weren't fully healed, even with the help of the core. His eyes dimmed, then lit again with a flicker that wasn't entirely his.
As if there were two Glenns in one body.
One Glenn who was severely injured.And another awakened by a power that didn't belong to humans.
Clive caught a glimpse of something else. Thin black lines were spreading under Glenn's skin, like fine veins pulsing and trying to burrow deeper, demanding space. Glenn resisted, biting his lip until blood dripped, but his gaze flickered out of focus from time to time, like he was drowning between two voices pulling at him.
The defensive formation formed without any verbal command.
Ted and Zorilla supported Glenn in the middle. Dean and Reis guarded the rear. Dorde held the left flank, Dilos took the right as the primary blocker, and Clive remained at the front clearing the path. They moved like a single body, every gap sealed instantly, every step eliminating a potential opening for an attack.
But from the darkness above the stone pillars, a pair of eyes watched.
Mola.
She sat at the edge of the upper wall, her legs swinging lazily like a young queen observing a performance. Her gaze was sharp yet innocent, reflecting the light like the surface of clear ice. Her lips curved slightly. Not a smile… more like satisfaction.
She enjoyed watching them grow tired.
She studied them.
And she hadn't come down. Hadn't attacked. Hadn't made a sound.
And that was what made Clive's pulse beat faster.
You see? whispered the voice inside his head, half murmured, half teasing. She's choosing which one of you she'll kill first.
Clive tightened his grip around his sword hilt. He didn't respond to the voice, but he felt its presence like a cold ring closing around his throat.
The corridor grew narrower. Darker.