As the group entered the room, the stench of rotting flesh and sterilizing chemicals filled the air, a nauseating combination that clung to their clothes and hair. Nova stood facing the reduced form of Nikola, his black cloak making him look like the Grim Reaper coming for his friend's soul. A chilling sensation raised goosebumps on Sam's arms.
"What is that?" Sam asked, slowly pointing a finger at the machine.
"I think the question is 'who is that?'" Ian corrected.
"Nikola…" The word barely escaped Nova's lips.
"What did that robot do?" Sam struggled to form the sentence.
"It contained him," Nova said, as flatly as ever.
Sam walked up to Nova. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's free him."
"We could," Nova whispered chillingly. He turned to face Sam, his eyes now with a glint. Standing between Sam and the machine, he added, "But he's already dead."
His emotionless words hit Sam with the force of a physical blow. A choked gasp escaped his lips, a broken sound of grief. He took a step back, his mind reeling from the revelation. The room spun and closed in around him.
"But the robot said he was alive," Bishie stated, his voice filled with a childlike innocence.
Nova shot a glare at Bishie, stomping toward him. His presence, now a shadow, loomed over the boy. "You'd really believe a robot over me?" he snarled.
Bishie flinched, recoiling from the sudden aggression. "I'm sorry, I thought—" his words were cut short by Nova's shout.
"The only thing you should be thinking about is reviving him!" Nova turned to Sam and Ian. Pointing at the machine, his voice relaxed a bit. "Ian, Sam, we're taking the brain and heart back to the library. Find a way to extract it."
Sam, his movements stiff and uncertain, nodded. "On it," he whispered meekly. He looked at Ian, a silent plea for help in his eyes. Ian nodded back, a silent promise of support.
Nova then took Bishie by the arm, his grip firm as he led him to the vent he had emerged from, a dark, narrow opening in the wall. "Bishie, was this vent dusty or clean?" he asked.
Still confused, Bishie answered. "Dirty, I guess."
"Was your mouth covered?"
"No."
Nova let out a humorless scoff. "Well, you'll be sick for a couple of days."
"What?" Bishie's eyes widened with fear.
"Dusty lungs."
From the machine, Ian yelled, his voice echoing from the distance, "Pneumoconiosis!"
Still focused on Bishie, Nova ignored Ian. "Yeah, nobody is going to use that term anyway, Bishie. If you start coughing out of nowhere, you need to let us know immediately."
"Nova! We need you!" Ian yelled.
Nova made his way over to the machine with Bishie following. "What is it?" Nova asked.
"We can break the glass or take out the bolts; either way, you'll have to catch the organs in a portal."
"Alright then, let's do that."
Sam and Ian exchanged a confused look. "What?" Nova questioned, meeting their gazes.
"Maram isn't here, so how will you mimic her ability?" Sam pointed out.
"Damn, you're right. Where are they anyway?" Nova looked down the hall over Ian's shoulder.
"I sent them off to scout. They'll be back soon," Sam said.
Ian looked back at the machine, feeling around it, and on the back, he found a small lever.
"Hey, guys, I found something," Ian called the others over. Nova examined it, pulling it without any hesitation.
"That's so strange," Nova said as he immediately pulled the lever.
"Hey! Something's pouring out!" Bishie yelled from the front. A putrid smell, a mixture of sweat, old blood, and lymph, erupted from the machine. The three mages heard Bishie start gagging and quickly covered their noses before going back to the front.
When they moved back to the front of the machine, Nikola's heart and brain were lying on the floor.
"Umm," Nova said, unsure of what to do. "Pick it up, Ian," he told him.
"No," Ian stated.
"Alright then, Sam, pick it up," Nova said.
"Why me?" Sam argued.
"BECAUSE I SAID SO! NOW HURRY UP, IT SITS LIKE SHIT!" Nova commanded.
Sam hurried to an old shelf and grabbed some discarded jars. He poured out the old contents and scooped the organs off the floor, which left a brownish smear stain in its place.
"My hands smell terrible now. I want to throw up." Sam held the jar away from his face as he carried it.
"Alright, let's find the rest of the team, then we can finally revive Nikola," Nova said as he walked over to the door. The busted door creaked on its hinges as it swung open. He saw Ruby, Maram, and Will towards the end of the hall already walking back. When the groups reunited, the smell emanating from the jar raised a question from Maram,
"Uh, why do you have that?"
"In short, it's Nikola, but we don't have time for discussion; we have to get to the library now." The urgency was palpable in Nova's voice.
Ruby's head tilted. "Why are you so stressed all of a sudden? We already checked this area out. There's nothing to worry about."
"I just remembered something from a while back." Nova's voice trembled with every word. "Guess who's coming to investigate?"
The realization hit them all like a truck, and their faces drained of color, replaced by fear.
"S.O.G.," Ian muttered, his voice finally showing emotion, a hint of fear.
Bishie noticed Ian's fear, and it caught him off guard. He always seemed so unbothered and stoic. "What's S.O.G.?"
"It means Specialized Operatives of Grimsnow, and if they find out Nikola is dead, we're so screwed. _You_ are screwed, Bishie!" Nova told him as he hurriedly opened a portal. The mages quickly unequipped their weapons from their gear belts and, in a single fluid motion, threw them into the portal. Sam also tossed the jar in after them.
"We have to get back as soon as possible!" Nova pulled a map from the portal, his movements frantic. "We have to go back the way Will and I came from; it's a slightly faster way than just going down the corridor path."
As the mages huddled over the map, Bishie looked at the vents again, his hands raised in a tentative suggestion. The mages, their eyes frantic and wide, all shouted, "WHAT!?" Bishie, ignoring them, pointed at the vents, his hand still raised. Nova threw the maps into the portal, a sudden decision lighting up his face. "We're taking the vents."
He closed the portal. "Hurry!" he yelled, sprinting back into the room, dragging Bishie by the hand. Everyone followed, their steps quick and desperate; if they wasted any more time, who knows who would show up.
When Nova found the vent, he sat Bishie in front of it. "Cover your face holes!"
"Wha…" Before Bishie could even confirm he heard Nova, he kicked him into the vent. The mages watched Bishie tumble down the narrow shaft, sickening thuds echoing through the sect. "Thank the greats these are at an angle, or I'm pretty sure he'd be dead," Nova muttered. The mages looked at Nova with unease, but it didn't matter—they were running out of time. Before he jumped into the vent, Nova covered his mouth and nose with his cloak, and the others followed suit.
The vent was a surprisingly spacious metal tube of absolute darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the mages' cloaks and the occasional flicker from rooms they passed. The air, thick with a fine, gritty dust, was suffocating. Sam's coughs were muffled by his cloak, but Bishie's were sharp, rattling sounds that echoed in the confined space, a reminder of their reckless escape.
Nova, moving with a focused, almost animalistic speed, toppled over Bishie and led the charge. He crawled on his hands and knees, his body a tight coil of muscle, pushing forward relentlessly. He had no map, no light, only a desperate need to get back to the library. The others followed in a tense, single-file line, their breathing loud and ragged.
Suddenly, Nova froze. A rhythmic sound was coming from the vents below them—the telltale metallic click of operative boots on the floor. The sound was getting closer. Nova held up a fist, a silent command for everyone to stop and be quiet. The mages held their breath, their hearts pounding in their ears. They could hear two muffled voices. "Finally, the breakers are back on."
"It's just Gala," Nova announced to the group.
The group resumed their crawl, now with a diminished sense of urgency.
After what felt like an eternity, Nova stopped again. He was sniffing the air. A new scent—old paper, beeswax, and a faint hint of cedar—was mingling with the dust. He kicked at a vent cover, and with a metallic groan, it gave way. One by one, they tumbled out of the narrow shaft and landed in a soft, grimy pile. They were in the library, the air thick with the scent of aged books. Towering shelves filled with ancient tomes stretched to the ceiling, casting long shadows in the dim light.
They were a mess—covered in grime, their clothes stained with dust, their faces smudged with dirt. Nova, after a quick check on Bishie and the others, pulled out the jar from a newly formed portal. The fear was still in his eyes.