Dreambreaker : The extra from 2393

Chapter 102: Brewing Enemy

In the dimly lit and austere prison corridor, a guard made his rounds.

On either side of the corridor stood rooms--cages technically. Solitary confinements for prisoners, not because they were of any threat, but simply to restrict them of freedom to move. Perhaps to give the bandi claustrophobic experiences for rest of their miserable lives.

Each cell held a number plate.

1817-B2--coming to a halt at this particular cell, the guard stopped.

Flashing a badge at the side runic circle, the cell opened.

Inside the cell was a Werewolf, caged with chains, locked to a steel chair. Michael —his name, the only thing which was left of him.

For the hineous crime of committing massacre at Genova, Michael, the werewolf, was excomunicado from Ruler's domain.

Despite being paralyzed from the neck down, he was still held captive, shackled by chains. His eyes appeared hollow and devoid of life as they stared at the cold concrete floor.

In a sudden moment, Michael lifted his gaze, his attention drawn to the prison guard. Inhaling deeply, he detected a familiar scent and, after a short pause, exclaimed, "Brother Lex... is that you?"

The prison guard flinched, his body jerking involuntarily. His emotions were carefully concealed, but as he removed what appeared to be a part of his face—a mask—an artifact, his true werewolf form was revealed. His reddish mane and larger physique distinguished him as Lex.

"It is you, Brother Lex!" Michael exclaimed, his voice filled with a flicker of happiness that breathed life into his previously hollow eyes.

Lex, in a stable but deeply saddening tone, asked, "What have they done to you, Michael? How did this come to be?" Though his voice remained composed, it masked a multitude of emotions, with sorrow prevailing over the others.

In response, the light in Michael's eyes flickered as he lowered his head once more. After a brief pause, he uttered, "I am paralyzed from the neck down. I have even lost Sylisiya. My life holds no worth anymore."

Lex placed his hands gently on Michael's shoulders, his emotions still concealed beneath his exterior.

In a tender tone, he inquired, "I have read the official reports but I want to hear it from you. Tell me, who did this to you?"

Michael sighed, struggling to recall the crucial fragments of that fateful day. He attempted to piece together how a seemingly routine mission, centered around abducting some human students from Arcanum Academy, had culminated in his ultimate downfall.

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"Probably some guy...maybe a student?", Michael offered.

Gradually, Michael began to divulge the entire sequence of events, vividly recounting the features of the person responsible for the tragedy that had befallen him.

This guy was not only accountable for Michael's suffering but also for the untimely demise of Sylisiya.

The image of the lifeless vampiress, her eyes filled with death, still etched itself deeply in Michael's memory.

After a few moments, Lex nodded, his voice lowering almost to a whisper, "So it was really 'the Unstory'." His gaze shifted to the floor, as if trying to assemble the scattered pieces of the tale.

'The Unstory'— that's what the union officers called this person, who was involved in the notorious Geniva Mansion incident. There were countless reports of a man who mercilessly killed numerous vampire-kins on that fateful day.

Even some students from Arcanum Blades Academy had given testimonials of seeing this mysterious person.

CCTV footage would blur into static noise wherever he went. And when the CCTV footage did reconnect, all it showed was a floor filled with dead bodies of vampire-kins and blood. Wherever he went, he left behind a trail of death. On that fateful day, he even took the life of a Vampiress.

However, due to the lack of solid evidence or any leads connecting him to anyone, the union officers simply dubbed him as the Unstory—a blank page in a story left unwritten. A blank page which simply should not exist, a void which makes no sense.

"Don't worry, brother. You've given me enough to piece things together. I'll find out who he is," Lex assured Michael.

But his demeanor suddenly shifted, his tone promising more to himself than to Michael, "No, I will find him, without a doubt. And when I do... I'll make him pay. I'll squash him like a bug!"—Lexicon growled, while clenching his fist.

"No, Lex, don't underestimate him."

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Those gray eyes," Michael muttered, as distant memory of two lifeless gray eyes entered his mind. "The gaze in those eyes doesn't belong to a normal person", he continued, his voice trailing off. "Those eyes belongs to someone who has stared death in the face countless times."

"Listen to me broth.. "

...

***

Nathan River's POV:

Noah Grey. Sixteen years old. He had dark hair that defaulted to beautiful curtain bangs without any effort on his part.

His lips were off-put, just alittle, neither smiling, nor upset. No emotions. But if you look at them closely for a few seconds he would surely ask, "Are you gay?"

"No."

"Well then, quit staring at my lips," he snapped, his attention shifting to the gateway where a swarm of trucks rolled in.

'Yes, I am not gay. Matter-of-factly, I even have a girlfriend. But I won't tell you that, knowing that you could use it to blackmail me. I am sure you will.'

Noah Grey, a type of person who would do anything and everything to get people under his control. Working with him, sorry working under him for two months already gave me an idea what kind of person he was. You can never quite decipher what the hell is going on in that mysterious mind of his.

His nose was strong and sharp, a damnednear-perfect nose. It looked like the beak of an eagle—beautifully designed. But of course it was those dark eyes that drew you in.

Where had he gotten eyes that dark? They looked unnatural. Like someone wearing black contact lenses. And Noah would turn those black, unnatural dark eyes on you, and you wouldn't know whether you were looking into profound depths or maybe just into a very crazy place. "You know Nathan, I am beginning to question your sexuality."

"I am Sorry, I won't stare. "

"I hope so."

Noah was here to met a person, Leo.

Someone I recruited for him, Leo.

Age fourty-five, ex-army veteran of Jiju, Royal Highland Miles. (Motto: Nemo Me Impugn Lacessit—No One Assails Me with Impunity. Or the alternative version—Do Not Fuck with Us or We Will Hurt You.)

Shoulders you could break a cinder block on, disciplined, up every morning to run twenty kilometers in whatever weather Krenada had on offer.

Leo Dostoevsky, who had earned the Brave Amulet for basically having balls so big he had taken out three baron level demons with a knife while literally carrying a wounded comrade on his back.

He was a loyal central union army officer, until the day, when his daughter died. He begged central union to provide him silver rose petals to save his daughter, but since they only grew once every eight-hundred years, they refused.

Frustrated by the system, Leo left the army regime behind. He dived into the world of independent supply and arms dealing, mainly operating in the infamous Dyrne Alley. Unbound by loyalty to any particular faction or group, Leo was someone who could be swayed with the right amount of money.

Leo greeted me with an exuberant tone, although his smile fell just short of reaching his eyes. "Well, well, well, young man, what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance!"

"Before you get carried away, let me clarify—I'm not the one in charge here," I retorted, tilting my head sideways to indicate Noah.

"Oh? Sorry about that. So a young brat rich enough to buy all these, eh?", Dostoevsky remarked in a grating tone, as he looked down disdainfully upon Noah.

In stark contrast, Noah simply met his gaze with a detached expression, devoid of any evident human emotion, and uttered only the most necessary words. "Did they dispatch you with the bees?"

Dostoevsky's eyebrow shot up in surprise, caught off guard by the icy detachment in Noah's demeanor, which unmistakably conveyed a no-nonsense attitude.

"Sure, feel free to check the truck, and all the necessary equipment is right here," he responded, complying with Noah's request.

"Great, I'll be needing those," Noah muttered, his attention shifting towards the trucks as if they held more interest than Dostoevsky himself.

Noah redirected his gaze back to Dostoevsky and stated, "I'm willing to pay you triple the amount I originally offered if you agree to take on another job for me."

Dostoevsky's grin grew increasingly irritating as he replied, "So, Daddy's got deep pockets, huh? Tell you what, make it quadruple the payment, and we've got ourselves a deal."

"You've got yourself a deal," Noah confirmed.

"Deal!" Dostoevsky exclaimed, his smile shining brightly as he extended his hand for a handshake. However, Noah simply brushed past him, scoffing, "I don't shake hands with bastards who can't even save their own kin."

'Ouch, that was definitely a low blow,' I thought to myself, sensing tension building in Leo's veins. However, as always, Noah seemed unaffected by the impact of his words.

***

(Late at night,1 AM)

Noah's POV:

With forceps in hand, I delicately held the bee, observing it through a loupe perched on my eyes like a pair of glasses.

After swiftly severing its tail, I placed the wriggling insect onto the incubator and tossed the expended bee into the nearby trash bin, where it would meet its fate.

My attention then shifted to the left, where three glass cylinders brimmed with a teeming mass of a thousand or so bees.

Methodically, I extracted another batch of bees, handling them with utmost care. Placing them onto a contraption that induced them to bite onto a gloved hand, I procured small droplets of their precious venom.

"Ha"—I sighed, allowing the process to run its course as I observed the DNA Analyzer(PCR) Machine, Liquid Chromatography-Mass Spectrometry (LC-MS) machine, and the Flow Cytometer.

I purchased these prized devices two weeks ago from the enchanting marketplace of DyrnAlley, solely relying on my resourcefulness as I lacked the necessary license.

"Ha, these upcoming nights will be sleepless," I murmured, acknowledging the arduous journey ahead.

Although my expertise lay in the realm of software engineering, I wasn't entirely inept when it came to laboratory work.

My grandfather had imparted some laboratory technician skills upon me, and my biology knowledge was well above average. Being confined to my bed all day due to my physical limitations proved tiresome, so I occupied my time by studying like a diligent scholar.

Of course, Nano is the one guiding me through the intricacies of concocting the drug.

"Just a few more days, and then I'll finally meet her. It's quite nerve-wracking, now that I think about it," I let out.

The Great Mage Seraphina Darkthorn.

"Perhaps I should arrange for a private jet to exude that rich dude vibe when I met her," I pondered, ready to make a lasting impression.