The Overseer wasted no time once the High Priest had left the chamber. He turned sharply to four of the remaining mages, his voice clipped and cold.
"You four. Take the containment vessel to the High Priest's laboratory. Be extra careful if you value your lives."
"Yes, sir," they answered in unison.
They cast Levitate without hesitation. The heavy cylindrical tank rose smoothly from the blood-stained floor and floated between them as they hurried out of the ritual chamber.
The corridors they traversed were narrow and torch-lit, the stone walls slick with condensation and old blood. One of the mages broke the tense silence.
"What do you think the High Priest will be able to achieve with this summoned creature?"
The mage beside him snapped immediately.
"Stop talking nonsense. The Head Priest will obviously conduct research on it and share his great discoveries with all members."
The first mage lowered his head.
"Yeah… you're right. Sorry for saying something so stupid."
The third mage glanced ahead.
"Hey, up ahead. We're here."
The fourth mage let his Levitate spell drop for a moment, stepped forward, and heaved open the large metal door. Torches flared to life inside, revealing a chamber far larger than the ritual hall.
On the left, towering shelves groaned under the weight of ancient tomes and scrolls. The walls were covered in layered notes and diagrams, lines connecting them like the threads of some vast, obsessive puzzle. On the right stood alchemy tables cluttered with skulls, jars of preserved organs, cauldrons, and instruments of every size. At the far end sat a surprisingly neat desk. But the most striking feature lay at the very center of the room: a perfectly drawn miniature version of the summoning circle, chalked in precise white lines.
One of the mages shifted uncomfortably.
"Hey, don't just stand there staring. Let's drop this thing and leave this unnerving place."
They guided the vessel to the right side of the room, lowered it carefully onto the stone, and retreated as fast as they could. The heavy door slammed shut behind them. The torches guttered out one by one, plunging the laboratory into total darkness.
In that darkness something stirred.
Boros's fingers twitched inside the containment vessel. The depression that served as his mouth curved slightly.
*I really can't move now. It seems I should have put more thought into this. This liquid… it's some kind of solvent that's suspending my bodily functions.*
*Okay. There should be a way out of this situation. This is a fantasy RPG-like world.*
"Status," he said aloud.
Nothing.
"Open status."
Nothing.
"System. Display. Menu."
Still nothing.
*Nothing's working. I guess this isn't your average fantasy world.*
Silence settled over him again. He forced his thoughts to calm, turning his focus inward. He examined the mental image of his new form — hollow, incomplete, yet strangely malleable.
Then figures appeared in his mind, floating in clean white text against the darkness of his consciousness.
Name: Boros
Race: Hollow ??
Class: Biomancer
Title: Chosen of the Eternal Cycle
Title Skill: Ouroboric Transmutation
Skill: Creation of Life, Bio-Augmentation, Regeneration, Flesh Mutation, Plaguecraft, Cellular Manipulation…
Boros read the list in silence.
*What is this skill list? This class is perfectly suited to my preference.*
A slow, mental chuckle began to build inside him *Heh... heh heh…* sharp and unhinged, echoing through the hollow chambers of his mind like glass shattering in an empty hall.
**Well… I guess I have to thank IT for this arsenal.**
He focused on two skills in particular.
*Bio-Augmentation*
Allows the user to engineer the biological functions of living beings, allowing the amplification, integration, and refinement of organic traits.
*Cellular Manipulation*
Grants the user precise control over discharged cellular structure, enabling the infiltration, disruption, and partial control of external organisms through direct contact.
"Heh... heh heh... ahaha... KHAHAHA!"
*These two skills will be the key to my escape.*
The manic laughter finally faded, leaving only a cold echo ringing through the hollow chambers of Boros's mind.
*Let's have a look at the rest. Especially this title—*
His thoughts were cut short by a sharp metallic *click*.
A hidden door slid open in the wall beside the desk at the far end of the chamber. Every torch in the laboratory flared back to life at once, bathing the room in harsh orange light. The same purple-robed figure who had led the summoning stepped out of the secret passage.
Alistair von Vaneford walked straight to one of the shelves and placed a small vial of transparent liquid among the others. He peeled off his blood-soaked gloves with deliberate care, then incinerated them in a flicker of flame that left only fine gray ash drifting to the floor.
He paused.
Something felt off.
Alistair turned slowly, his gaze sweeping the room until it settled on the sealed containment vessel. He approached it without hurry, eyes narrowing as he peered through the glass at the motionless hollow figure suspended inside.
*He's looking right at me.*
Without a word, Alistair crossed to a tall wardrobe shelf, opened it, and pulled out a large iron cage. Inside, a small brown-and-white ferret-like creature paced restlessly. He carried the cage to the far wall, pulled a heavy lever, and a massive stone slab rose smoothly from the floor, forming a wide examination table.
He set the cage down, then moved behind the containment vessel. Two sealed ports on its back caught his attention. From the corner of the room he dragged two thick hoses connected to separate tanks and locked them into place. With a turn of a knob, the dark solvent inside the vessel began to drain away.
Boros felt the liquid recede. Strength flooded back into his form.
*Finally.*
He immediately pressed against the glass, biomass shifting and hardening as he tried to force his way out. The vessel held. He found a narrow drainage opening at the bottom and began squeezing a portion of himself through it.
The opening snapped shut like a trap.
A clean section of his extended biomass was severed and fell into the collection tray below.
Alistair watched the entire process with clinical interest. A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. He closed the first valve and opened the second. Fresh solvent rushed back into the vessel, once again suspending Boros's movements.
*Damn it.*
Alistair bent down, opened a small compartment at the base of the vessel, and pulled out the tray containing the severed piece. Using tweezers, he lifted the twitching fragment and dropped it into a glass flask, sealing it with a cork.
He carried the flask to the stone table where the caged creature waited. Opening the cage, he lifted the ferret-like animal and bound its legs tightly to the slab. Then he uncorked the flask, shook the piece of flesh experimentally, and cut off a smaller fragment with a scalpel. The rest went back into storage.
Holding the fragment with tweezers, he brought it close to the creature's snout.
The ferret sniffed once… then devoured the flesh voraciously.
For a few seconds nothing happened.
Then the animal froze, eyes wide and blank. A violent tremor ran through its body. It began to writhe and squeal, legs still bound, twisting and thrashing across the table until it tumbled off the edge and hit the floor with a dull thud. It lay motionless.
Alistair stared down at the dead creature.
"A Surong can't handle it, it seems."
He turned to leave, but after only two steps he paused.
The surong's body twitched.
Slowly, he glanced back over his shoulder toward the dead surong, eyes narrowing.