The Chronicles of a Scalebound Sage

WM [58] The Spark of Rebellion

For the first time I am going to do a Content Warning. This chapter has acts of Torture and Sexual Assult.
If you are sensitive to these subject skip to the triple asterisks  (***).
This book is not smut and does not condone or glorify these actions but does contain adult themes.

Isin jolted awake, his own scream tearing him from his nightmare, his cheeks wet with fresh tears. Even three years after his mother’s death, the pain remained as raw as if it had happened yesterday. He rubbed his eyes, trying to steady himself, but the tears kept coming. In the darkness of his pod, he felt some small comfort; the routine of being confined until morning was something he could count on. Then he heard the latches click and the pod hiss. Slowly it opened, Isin believing it was time for him to wake up wiped his face. He couldn’t let his team see him like that; he had to remain the strong stoic leader.

Blinding white light flooded his vision as his pod door opened. He blinked away the sting in his eyes. Instead of the light chatter of the others waking he was the only one up. All around him was the unnerving silence of the all white and sterile room of Facility 98. His pod, one of the thousands for the Slave Race. They were all forced to retire here every night as it was too dangerous to work throughout the night.

He shivered, recognizing what it meant when he was awakened like this. His blood ran cold when he saw Nuriel, the Angel standing above his pod. She would meet him at night, for what she called experiments ever since she found out he was the son of Bazaath. Her predatory grin stretched wide across her face as her form shrank down from the towering ten feet to the far more human six.

Her skin transitioned from white marble to blemishless peach flesh. Her wings retracted into her body as the metal orbs levitated around him and scanned his body. She had a smile on her face as she examined his nude form. Isin knew there was no point in modesty; she had already seen every inch of him and left no part of his body unclaimed. He looked away as her clothing slipped to the ground, leaving her bare as well.

“Number 293,” Nuriel purred, her voice melodic, almost soothing if not for the revulsion it sparked within him. “Look at me,” she commanded, and his gaze reluctantly met hers. “Must I remind you that you are mine 293, mine to do with as I please, mine to break, mine to fix, mine alone.”

“Of course, master,” Isin said, his voice broken.

“Oh, how obedient. I do love that about you, 293,” Nuriel cooed, her tone mocking, almost playful. She climbed onto him, her weight pressing down as she straddled him, a twisted look of pleasure in her eyes. “You know, the Slave Race should be grateful to serve beings as perfect as us. Isn’t it an honor, really? You all get to be so close to your makers, your Gods. You would be nothing without us. Tell me, does it thrill you, being so useful? Or does your pathetic little mind fail to comprehend what I am telling you?”

Isin clenched his jaw, swallowing the words he longed to hurl back at her. He knew that any display of defiance would only amuse her, feed into her sick games. She leaned closer, her breath hot against his ear.

“Maybe one day, I’ll let you see just how small you really are, how insignificant. Yes, wouldn’t that be great, you can be mine, until the day you die.” Her laugh was disarmingly gentle for the cruelty she proposed. “Maybe I’ll even teach you a thing or two, let you play with the toys of the gods. It must feel so exotic for you to touch me. For me to let you feel what’s far beyond your kind’s reach. You should thank me for it.”

 Isin swallowed his hatred and nodded in submission. “Yes, master. I am grateful.”

“Oh, you flatterer,” she sneered, cupping his face in her hands then moving them down to his chest. “You think I don’t see that fire in your eyes? You’re only human, remember? You serve one function, and that is to obey. Broken toys need to be disassembled and fixed. Maybe I should take you apart again and see what makes you tick.” 

“I am yours, master. I mean no disrespect, I only want to please you,” Isin said.

Nuriel leaned over and kissed him passionately only to bite his tongue off once he reciprocated. She watched him with a smile on her face as he went pale. He struggled to get up, but she kept him pinned down as he started to choke on his own blood. She spit out his tongue and one of her orbs caught it with an aetherial tether. Others came in and collected the blood and reattached his tongue. All while she watched him with amusement.

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“You lie to me through your teeth with that tongue.” Nuriel moaned with pleasure. “But that’s why you’re so much fun to play with. You hate me, and can’t do anything about it. Lie little slave. Lie.”

Satisfied, she moved her hips, her weight pressing down as she claimed him once more. She used him, but what could he do against such a being but obey? His body was hers to do with as she pleased, that was something she had beaten into him over the last three years. Pain or pleasure, those were his options and after years of pain, of having his body torn apart and studied just to be remade he had no fight left. It was just the same thing over and over.

Instead of focusing on her, he focused on one of the aetheric orbs. The piece of aether technology that allowed Angels to control the aether with unmatched precision. He had never held one, although he could see its geometry, he could see how she manipulated it with the flow of her aether. He could pick apart the interweaving divinity and separate her power into understandable formulae. 

He had to keep her mind occupied, he had to make sure she would focus only on herself and her pleasures so her divine insight would not catch his treachery. He drew the aether to his eyes, squinting as he took in the intricate patterns within the orb’s core. He pushed harder, his nose starting to bleed as the formulae etched themselves painfully into his mind. He screamed, a sound she mistook for pleasure, and continued her use of him, oblivious to the stolen knowledge searing its way into his thoughts.

When it was over, she stood, smiling down at him, her expression as callous as it was beautiful. “Prepare for tomorrow, 293. I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight. I am sending you into Extraction Site Alpha-12 tomorrow. Prepare and go and wake your team when you are ready. Try to come back in one piece. Or atleast try not to die, I can rebuild any piece that might go missing.”

Isin tried to focus, but his head ached with a deep thrum. He heard he had to go into the Alpha tomorrow, but that couldn’t be right. Was she trying to kill him? No one that had entered there had ever returned be they the Slave Race or Angels. He saw the moment she realized he had internalized what she had said and a crooked smile stretched across her beautiful face. Isin wanted nothing more than to punch her in that Cheshire's grin until she stopped breathing, but all he could do was bow his head as the pod closed around him.

***

So far, everytime it has felt the same. The first sensation was warmth, then breath, then darkness as his eyes rolled open. It was like a great jolt from nothing into something. His mind was foggy as he took in the scene around him. They were in a tent with the sound of movement outside. Something wasn’t quite right with his vision. Either he felt like he was seeing double, or not quite double since he had six eyes before, but definitely more than usual.

“Bjorn!” Failsafe screamed which nearly caused Bjorn to jump. “We did it! Thanks to your dream I figured out a lot more about aether. If we get the right materials I think, I think, we can make one of those aetheric orbs. Or something like it, I don’t think we can make one exactly, but a wand or something as a prototype is totally possible,” he muttered to himself for a while before refocusing. “Oh and we grew another head, we have been unconscious for about twelve hours.”

Bjorn blinked from confusion.“W-what? What about Joha, he tried to kill us, where is Tanisha?”

Bjorn nearly stood up when he felt something holding on to him. He looked down and saw that Tanisha was at his side holding on to him for dear life. She was asleep, but her emotions were in total disarray, tears streamed down her face and she sobbed even in her sleep. 

“Do you know what happened?” Bjorn asked.

“No, I was pulled into your past memories too,” Failsafe responded. “I don’t know what happened after you almost got us killed, but it would appear Joha or Rakta or whatever he is calling himself, is in a berserker state. It seems to be kind of like you when the maya almost corrupted us.”

“That’s why he attacked us?” Bjorn asked.

“I mean, maybe,” Failsafe said unsure. “He is the only demon we know, but it happened to you so why can’t it happen to him too? You both are Higher Plane beings so he wouldn’t be immune to the effects of maya just because his people are from the Infernal Planes. The fight with that druid guy was intense and he got hurt pretty bad in the beginning. Using mana when you are emotionally or mentally compromised can be dangerous. I can only imagine how much worse it can be when dealing with Higher Plane energies.”

“Damn-it, Joha, this was the worst possible time for you to go rogue. Tanisha is in a very fragile state with her identity, but she was on a good path,” Bjorn said as he looked over her sleeping form. “You don’t think she will revert, right?”

“I don’t know,” Failsafe admitted. “Look, with or without Joha we are still here for her so let's focus on what we can do. How hard could it be to keep a teenage cernunnos from turning into a psychopathic murder cannibal with daddy issues.”

“I think you might be underestimating how people think,” Bjorn said.

“Well I am not the best when it comes to that. I am not a people after all,” Failsafe said.

Bjorn remained silent for a long while, sifting through the horrific memories that had surfaced. Nuriel’s cruelty was almost beyond comprehension; she had twisted her power over the Slave Race into a grotesque display of dominance and lust. Her infatuation with Bazaath only seemed to fuel her torment of Isin. At first, the tortures were physical: dismemberment, mutilation, and then the reassembly of his body, leaving him to exist in a state of unending agony. Later, her torments took on other, more insidious forms, ways to reinforce her absolute control. The worst part was her expression, the way she wore a mask of motherly affection that only thinly veiled the monster within.

He struggled to understand why this particular memory felt so pivotal. But as he reflected, he realized that it wasn’t merely the suffering that marked its significance—it was the glimpse he’d caught of true aetheric control. It was in those moments, beaten but not broken, that he’d first seen into the depths of the Aetheric Orbs. Those orbs held the secrets of the angels, the raw mechanics of the aether. That knowledge had ignited something within him, the spark of rebellion, the birth of the Sunderer of the Angelic Throng. His war against the Angels had begun there, not with a weapon, but with a revelation. He had a feeling that whatever was supposed to happen at the Extraction Site didn’t go the way Nuriel expected.

“You mentioned creating a wand, can we do that?” Bjorn asked.

“Well, probably, we will need the material and, of course, if you are going to use it, maybe a bracelet would work better,” Failsafe admitted. “Oh and we will need to find out how wands are made currently. As soon as possible we have to find a Wandmaker.”

“So, what does the new head do?” Bjorn questioned.

“I am still analyzing it. Just don’t go and try to use its breath attack before I get done. With all the new data I got I will probably be able to figure out what Aetheric Breath does too.”

“From just that one peek at the aether flow inside of one of those orbs?” Bjorn asked, honestly amazed.

“Yeah, I am just as surprised as you,” Failsafe said. “Honestly your past self’s eyes were far better than any detection and analytical skill I have currently. The fact that he, or you, were able to see into it so clearly is astounding. The principles inside of that orb is the key to how aetheric magic works at the highest levels. It essentially gave me the answers to questions I didn’t even know I needed to ask. I just have to reverse engineer those answers to find out how to get there. Like answering a math problem in reverse.”

“How long before you have something tangible on any of the fronts?” Bjorn asked.

“Umm… a few hours for analyzing the other head, a week for anything else at the minimum.” Failsafe sounded somber as he continued. “Oh, and, uhh… sorry about what you saw. I mean, what you experienced… I don’t think anyone deserved what that angel was doing to you. I mean we already knew you were a slave and later on a king but that was—was… beyond what I’d imagined.”

“Thanks. The more of my past I see, the more I understand why things turned out like they did.” Bjorn said. “King of Chains… I see where that name came from at least.”

“So, on brighter news. You have a few levels to assign. I think we should focus on that now.”

Bjorn opened his level status and saw what he could assign.

Unassigned Cultivation Points Distribution

You have leveled up 3 time(s) before assigning your UCP.
You have 30 UCP

Please assign all UCP within 6 day(s) or UCP will be automatically assigned.
Assign [yes/no]

Bjorn was pleased with the three levels and decided right away where he was going to place his points. Vitality and Constitution. If the run in with Kara was anything to go by he was right to place points in those to stay in the fight. Underground most of his breath attacks were too dangerous or distracting for their allies. Now that he had Aetheric scales he could take a hit and keep attacking even without his magic.

Status Menu

Name: Bjorn Isin Scalebound
Species: Lernaean Hydra
Level: 41< 44
Vitality: 160 + 15 = 175 / 195
Restoration: 270 / 270
Constitution: 125 +15 = 140 / 140
Strength: 90 / 130
Dexterity: 80/ 100
Stamina: 90/ 115
Aether: 70 / 70
Aetheric Regeneration:  100 / 100  (+150 from bond)
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