The warehouse was a cathedral of rust and decay.
Moonlight streamed through grimy, broken skylights, illuminating swirling motes of dust and casting long, skeletal shadows from forgotten machinery.
The air was cold, smelling of damp concrete and old iron. It was the perfect throne room for a villainess.
I stood in the centre of the vast, open floor, a solitary figure in the gloom. I had arrived early, a silent ghost asserting my ownership of the space.
One by one, they arrived, their footsteps echoing nervously.
Maya was first, her sketchbook clutched to her chest like a shield, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. Then came my pawns, huddled together for warmth and courage.
Leo, who now walked with a new, tentative confidence.
Jake, whose eyes darted around with a restless, almost giddy energy.
And Mark, his hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the floor, a mix of fear and anticipation on his face.
They stopped a respectful distance away, a silent, mismatched court waiting for their queen to speak. I gave them nothing. I let the silence stretch, letting the weight of the moment settle over them.
My 'Silent Threat' skill turned the cold air heavy, a pressure they could all feel.
Finally, when the tension was a palpable hum, I acted. I held out my empty hand. With a flicker of will, I accessed my inventory.
The air in front of my palm shimmered, and four small, dark bundles of cloth materialised with a soft, soundless pop.
A collective gasp went through the group.
Jake took an involuntary step back. Leo's eyes were wide with the same awe he'd had in the service corridor of the Beacon.
This was magic, plain and simple.
I tossed the first bundle to Leo. He fumbled with it, the cloth impossibly soft and dark in his hands.
I threw the next to Jake, then Mark. I kept one for myself and placed the last one on a nearby crate for Maya.
I raised my datapad, the screen's red glow painting my unseen face.
These are for you. Shadow-Weave Raiment. They will bond to you. Think of them, and they will appear. Think of them gone, and they will vanish. They are your new uniforms. Our new faces.
Leo stared down at the bundle in his hands as if it were a holy relic. Jake's face broke into a wide, disbelieving grin. Mark, ever the technician, was already examining the fabric, his brow furrowed in intense concentration, trying to comprehend the impossible technology.
Maya picked up her bundle, her expression one of deep fascination.
"You're giving us a livery," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. "You're making the legend real."
Put them on, my datapad commanded.
There was a moment of hesitation, the finality of the act hanging in the air. This was more than just a costume. It was an oath.
A baptism.
Leo was the first. He held the cloth to his chest and closed his eyes. The raiment seemed to melt, flowing over his clothes like liquid shadow before vanishing completely.
He looked down at himself, confused.
Now, call it, I typed. See what Maya saw.
Leo took a shaky breath. He closed his eyes again, concentrating. For a second, nothing happened. Then, shadows erupted from his skin.
Not cloth, but pure, dark energy coalesced around him, weaving itself into a full-body suit and a deep, hooded robe. The hem of the robe was frayed and indistinct, swirling like smoke around his ankles.
He was no longer Leo, the nervous kid.
He was Ghost, the ethereal infiltrator from the manhwa, his face a void within the cowl of his hood. He raised his hands, staring at the shadowy gloves that now covered them.
"Whoa," Jake breathed, his eyes shining. He didn't need any more encouragement.
He pressed the cloth to his chest, and it vanished.
"Okay… Havoc… come on, Havoc!" he grunted.
His transformation was more explosive. The shadows burst forth, forming a heavier, more brutalist version of the robe. The shoulders were broad, powerful, the fabric looking less like cloth and more like hardened plates of solidified night.
He looked in the reflection of a grimy puddle on the floor, flexing his arms. He was bigger, more intimidating. He was Havoc.
Mark was last. He handled his transformation with a quiet intensity. The shadows that formed his raiment were sleek, form-fitting. And just as I had designed, faint, silvery lines pulsed through the fabric, like circuits in a motherboard.
He looked down at himself, a slow, dawning smile spreading across his face. He was Oracle.
I held my own bundle and let it bond to me.
Then, I called upon the shadows. My own robe materialised, simple, elegant, its cowl deeper than any of theirs, plunging my identity into absolute, impenetrable darkness.
We stood there for a moment, four figures of living shadow, the very image of Maya's art brought to life.
Maya herself hadn't put hers on; she was sketching furiously, her pencil a blur on the page, capturing the birth of our new identities.
The loyalty scores on my Subjugation tab were soaring.
[Pawn 1: Mark]
Loyalty: 55/100
[Pawn 2: Jake]
Loyalty: 60/100
[Pawn 3: Leo]
Loyalty: 92/100
Their fear was almost gone, burned away by the sheer, exhilarating coolness of it all.
They weren't just my pawns anymore. They were my agents. My cadre.
And then, as if sensing this critical shift, the System interjected.
A new, private notification, one meant only for me, appeared in my vision.
[Pawn Loyalty approaching maximum threshold.]
[At 100/100 Loyalty, Host may initiate the 'Pact of Servitude.' This is a permanent, unbreakable bond. The pawn's will becomes subordinate to the Host's.]
[Benefit: A pawn under a Pact of Servitude can be granted System Skills by the Host.]
My breath caught. The implications were staggering. I could give them skills. I could give Leo a real skill for stealth, not just a cool name.
I could give Jake a skill for strength, making him a true heavy hitter.
I could give Mark a skill for technomancy, allowing him to interface directly with machines.
I could build a team of super-powered agents. My agents.
But the cost… a permanent, unbreakable bond. Their free will, forfeit.
It was a line I hadn't considered crossing. I had subjugated them with fear and power, but this was different. This was ownership.
It was also, I realised with a cold, clear certainty, absolutely necessary.