The next morning the alchemists moved slower than usual. Their steps dragged across the stone floor, and several pressed their palms against their temples as if something inside their skulls pushed outward. GR1M1 watched them from his corner. Their skin carried a dull sheen, and their eyes lacked the sharp focus they normally held. He wondered if the head alchemist had done something to them. The thought settled inside him with a strange lift. He did not understand why that reaction came, but it stayed. A quiet sense of balance. They had caused pain, and now something had circled back to them.

  One of the tables had been prepared with a new body. The creature lay face down, its limbs strapped with leather bands that left faint marks on the skin. GR1M1 recognized the tools arranged beside it. Metal rods. Bone fragments. A tray with a dark smear that reminded him of the pattern he had once seen drawn across his own back before they opened him. The memory rose without warning. Needles sliding into muscle. Cold hands spreading tissue. The parasite pressed into place. He watched the alchemists repeat the same steps on this new subject, and a question formed. Were they trying to build something similar to him? Would they actually succeed once again?! It seemed like the headmaster was pushing them to repeat the experiment again with flying colors to prove it was possible.

  They opened the creature’s forearms with steady cuts. The sound of the blade scraping bone reached GR1M1’s ears, bringing back memories of the traumatic events. They inserted pieces of another creature’s bones into the exposed structure. The fragments carried a rough texture, as if they had been carved in haste. Black residue clung to the edges. GR1M1 leaned forward slightly, to be more observant of the changes happening in front of him. He had seen that residue before. It had been on the table the day they worked on him. The pattern had matched the shape of his spine.

  The alchemists pushed thin needles into the new bone structure. The needles trembled with each adjustment. GR1M1 followed every movement. The procedure mirrored the one they had used on him, only this time they focused on the nerves of the hands. He wondered if this was the idea they may have discussed days earlier. A weapon inside the body. Something hidden until needed. Were they planning to build something like puppet weapons or something of the style. As they lately had more papers lying around with things they could experiment on to implement on bodies, GR1M1 had it difficult to understand how far they were willing to reach. At one point, it would be enough for them. They knew nothing of the toll it took in a living creature, to withstand such pressure and abuse, while they were powerless without an opportunity to even get out of this suffering.

  One of the alchemists activated a supposed glowing instrument. A faint hum filled the room. The creature’s fingers twitched by reflex somehow. The skin around the knuckles shifted. As if a small piece of bone pushed outward between the joints unevenly. The structure looked unstable, as if it could snap under its own weight, as the bone itself didn't know how much to grow outside the hand. The alchemists adjusted the needles again. Another pulse of light. The bone extended farther, then retracted. The movement repeated several times until the shape changed. The malformed structure sharpened into a short length of uneven blades like bone claws that would transform, to slide in and out of the knuckles. Each blade reached the length of about two fingers.

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  GR1M1 within all the knowledge he had acquired looking at the objects, studied the mechanism, how it reacted, was there a muscle flex he purposely needed to do for it to be that way? Would he need to flinch or stress his hand muscle area for it to be less painful? Would he be able to do it fast enough in a fight, like a normal reflex? He had too many questions despite not knowing if these people would ever put anything similar to that in his body, which looking at his experiences it was highly likely they would actually do it. If someone approached him while he was strapped to a table, a weapon like that could end them before they reacted. The thought came without effort. It stayed in his mind as a simple observation.

  The creature’s skin in the hand tore each time the blades emerged. The tissue failed to close around the openings, it was lacking its current ability to heal properly. Blood gathered around the knuckles. The alchemists exchanged quick glances. They whispered to each other while keeping their hands away from the blades. The repeated puncturing prevented the skin from sealing. The body could not keep up with the damage. Which at the end of the day would need to render it useless for outside experiments.

  As everyone seemed to have given up for now, one alchemist stepped inside the room with a syringe filled with dark red liquid. GR1M1 focused on the object. Something about it felt wrong, yet similar to somehow. The alchemist holding it hesitated. His grip shifted. His breathing changed, as if it was nervous of something going wrong. GR1M1 noticed the way he kept the syringe angled away from his own arm, as if he feared accidental contact. Another alchemist reached out, took the syringe from him, and told the others to move back. Were they expecting it to fail in any catastrophic way, maybe exploding, it seemed far too unclear from afar…

  The one who took it approached the creature. He pressed the needle into the arm near the point where a parasite would be in the bone structure, where the parasite would be consuming the flesh stuck in the bones. The injection went in slowly, in that split of a few seconds GR1M1 could see something moving in that syringe. The creature’s body stayed still. No twitch. No sound. The alchemist exhaled and signaled the others to come closer.

  The moment they stepped forward, the body ruptured, about to explode. A sharp crack filled the room. Then it happened, a big sound happened… Flesh tore apart. Skin vanished from half the torso. The blast threw pieces across the table. The alchemist who had injected the syringe staggered backward with blood covering his coat. The others rushed to him and dragged him toward the exit. As he had taken the explosion almost face to face with it.

  GR1M1 did not move, even out of surprise for the outcome. The explosion had stopped short of reaching him. He observed the scene with a steady gaze. If the blast had extended a little farther, it might have broken his restraints in the cylinder. It might have opened a path out of this place. The thought passed through him without urgency. The possibility of him escaping was almost out of place, he had never seen what was beyond the door where the alchemist entered, it was an useless wish to his desperate need to finally be free.

  After clearing up his consciousness, he turned his attention back to the remains on the table. Something shifted in the creature’s arm. The view of the exposed bone began to rebuild itself. Thin strands formed across the gap. The surrounding flesh moved in slow waves, pulling inward as if the body refused to collapse. GR1M1 watched the process with interest. The regeneration did not happen instantly. It worked in small increments, each movement deliberate. It seems this was their counter cure for the bone knives they were preparing in the previous examination. They were still discovering what to do, but it wasn't far off to be implemented on him.

  He considered the possibility that the alchemists had placed another parasite inside that body. Something alive. Something with its own instinct to survive. It might not think the way he did. It might not understand anything beyond the need to keep the body functioning. But it lived. It pushed against death with every slow movement of bone and flesh.

  GR1M1 kept his eyes on the arm. The creature’s body had been destroyed, yet the parasite continued its work. He wondered how many more they planned to make. He wondered if any of them would ever understand what they had created.

  “???????? ??? ???????... ?????? ???? ?? ???????? ?? ?????? ?? ??? ?? ?????????...”

  “Monsters are mirrors... showing only the darkness we refuse to see in ourselves...”

  They gave him a name forged in fire: Stormbreaker. They gave him two legions and a crown of spears. They gave him the South to break.

  Alric Vaelgard did not refuse.

  For three years he bore the Empire's wrath like a yoke, silent and unyielding, bound by chains older than his birth. As the court demanded, he answered.

  Then came Khal-Drathir, the final city, the final command. And in its ruin, he made the choice that would unravel him.

  Now the ghost he denied death walks beside him to Valekyr, where the throne waits and the Seneschals have already begun circling.

  In an empire built on ash and gilded lies, one act of defiance may cost him everything.

  But carrying the weight of what he has done may cost him more.

  A dark epic of obedience, ruin, and hope.

  What to expect:

  - An epic dark fantasy with poetic prose and biblical influences

  - Atmospheric worldbuilding and supernatural dread

  - Slow-burn character dynamics built on guilt, hatred, and moral tension

  - Political intrigue and courtly scheming

  - A weekly chapter posted every Thursday at 2:00 A.M. UTC+1

  How was it??