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Eldritch Horror? No, I'm A Doctor
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The interrogation room was cold.
Not from the air conditioning, though that hummed softly in the corner. Cold from the frost that had begun to creep across the walls, spreading from where Colonel Steven Bright sat in his metal chair. His hands rested on the table in front of him, relaxed but ready. His eyepatch covered his left eye.
Across from him sat Brigadier General Varyn Helles.
Varyn was handsome in a way that made people uncomfortable once they thought about it. His face was too perfect, too symmetrical. Sharp jawline, smooth pale skin, not a blemish or scar to suggest he'd ever seen real combat. His eyes were crystal silver with faint violet rings that seemed to shift when he tilted his head. His black hair had an almost metallic sheen to it, styled so precisely it looked like he'd stepped out of a portrait rather than a military base.
He wore his uniform immaculately. Not a wrinkle, not a thread out of place. His posture was elegant, refined, more suited to a ballroom than a military installation. When he smiled, which he did often, it was gentle and disarming.
But Steven knew better.
Varyn Helles was an S-rank hunter, one of only ten in the entire Azareth Empire. His class was Duke of the Enslaved Mind, a specialization in mental domination and psychic manipulation. He could rewrite memories, plant suggestions, break someone's will with nothing more than eye contact and a few well-chosen words.
Against monsters, he was nearly useless. His abilities did almost zero physical damage. The Empire had ranked him at the lowest S rank general position because of this weakness.
But against humans? Against soldiers, officers, anyone with a mind to control?
He was a walking apocalypse.
"So, Steven," Varyn said, his voice soft and pleasant, "shall we begin?"
"I already filed my report," Steven replied, his tone flat.
"Everything's in the documentation. The gate broke. Monsters emerged. I dealt with them. End of story."
"Ah, yes. Your report." Varyn pulled a tablet from the table beside him and scrolled through it with one elegant finger.
"Very thorough. Very detailed. Except for one small section." He looked up, his silver eyes fixing on Steven's face.
"The part where you explain how you acquired a new skill powerful enough to freeze an entire city district in seconds."
"Classified," Steven said.
"Classified." Varyn's smile widened slightly. "By whose authority?"
"Mine."
"You don't have that authority, Colonel."
"Then I guess we're done here." Steven started to stand.
Frost spread across the table where his hands had been, creating patterns that looked almost like claws.
"Sit down, Steven." Varyn's voice didn't change in volume or tone, but something in it made the air feel heavier.
Steven remained standing. "You don't give me orders, Varyn. We're not in the same chain of command."
"No, but I do outrank you." Varyn leaned back in his chair, still smiling that gentle, disarming smile.
"And this isn't just curiosity. The Empire needs to understand what happened. If you've discovered a method to acquire new skills, that information is vital to national security."
"National security." Steven's jaw clenched.
"Is that what you're calling it now?"
"What else would I call it?"
"An opportunity to cover your own weakness."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Varyn's smile didn't falter, but something flickered in those silver eyes.
"Careful, Steven."
"Why?" Steven leaned forward, his hands on the table. Where his palms touched, ice formed immediately, spreading outward in geometric patterns.
"You going to use your mind tricks on me? Try to make me forget what you really are?"
"And what am I, in your professional opinion?"
"A coward with an inferiority complex and a manipulator who hides behind rank because he's too weak to fight his own battles."
Varyn's smile finally faded. His fingers drummed once on the tablet, a small gesture that might have seemed idle if not for the deliberate precision of it.
"You're still angry about Lieutenant Reeves," Varyn said quietly.
Steven's visible eye went cold. "Don't say her name."
"Why not? She was your soldier. You should be proud of how she died. Buying time for her commanding officer to escape. A noble sacrifice."
"You made her do it." Steven's voice was dangerously quiet now.
"You got into her head. Twisted her thoughts. Made her think throwing her life away was her own idea."
"I gave a tactical order during combat," Varyn replied, his voice still soft, still gentle.
"She chose to follow it. That's what soldiers do."
"She was twenty three years old."
"War doesn't care about age, Steven."
"You weren't even in danger." Steven's hands pressed harder against the table. The metal groaned under the cold, hairline cracks forming in the surface.
"You used mind control to make her sacrifice herself so you could retreat from a C rank gate. A fucking C rank gate, Varyn. Something any competent B rank could handle."
"I assessed the situation and determined that a tactical withdrawal was necessary."
"You were scared. You're always scared. That's why you became a mind controller in the first place. So you'd never have to actually fight."
Varyn's silver eyes flickered with something that might have been anger. His hand moved to smooth a nonexistent wrinkle in his uniform, a small gesture to regain composure.
"I spent three months in prison because of your investigation," Varyn said.
"Three months of my career put on hold while you pursued this vendetta. The tribunal found no wrongdoing. I was reinstated with full honors."
"The tribunal was full of people you'd probably already gotten your hooks into," Steven replied.
"I know what you are, Varyn. Everyone knows. They just can't prove it because you're too good at covering your tracks."
"Such paranoia. It must be exhausting."
"Not as exhausting as living with the knowledge that you're a fraud wearing a general's uniform."
Varyn stood slowly, his movements fluid and controlled. He walked around the table, his boots clicking softly on the floor. The temperature continued to drop. Their breath misted in the air now.
"Let's try this again," Varyn said, stopping beside Steven's chair.
"Tell me how you acquired your new skill."
"No."
"Steven." Varyn's voice took on a different quality. Softer, more layered, like multiple voices speaking in harmony.
"You're going to tell me. It's easier if you just cooperate."
Steven felt it immediately. The pressure at the edges of his mind. Like fingers pressing against a door, trying to find a way in. Varyn's skill activating, searching for a crack in his mental defenses.
"Get the fuck out of my head," Steven growled.
"Just tell me where you got the power," Varyn continued, his voice becoming more melodic, more compelling.
"It's a simple question. You went somewhere. You met someone. You received something. Just tell me what happened."
The pressure increased. Steven's skull felt like it was in a vice. But he'd been through worse. He'd felt the presence of actual eldritch beings, cosmic forces that made Varyn's mental tricks seem like a child pushing on a castle wall.
"I said no." Steven's visible eye opened, fixing on Varyn's face.
"And if you don't stop, I'm going to break your jaw."
Varyn's smile returned, but it was strained now. Beads of sweat formed on his perfect forehead.
"You're resisting. Interesting. Most people can't resist my Command skill. It's A-rank, you know. Very few have the mental fortitude to withstand it."
"I've had worse things in my head than you," Steven replied.
The frost on the walls began to spread faster. It crawled across the ceiling now, creating intricate crystalline patterns. The temperature plummeted further. Varyn's breath came in visible puffs.
"Tell me," Varyn said, his voice straining now with effort. The melodic quality intensified, becoming almost hypnotic.
"Tell me who helped you. Tell me where they are. Tell me how the process works."
Steven's hands clenched into fists on the table. The metal froze solid under his grip. Cracks spider webbed across the surface.
And then, for just a moment, his resistance wavered.
Not because of Varyn's skill. But because thinking about it, thinking about Nox and the clinic and what the doctor had done for him, brought up feelings of gratitude so strong they almost hurt. He owed Nox his life. His new power. His ability to protect his people.
He owed Nox everything.
And that debt meant keeping the clinic secret. Keeping Nox safe from people like Varyn.
But in that moment of emotional vulnerability, Varyn's skill found purchase. Just a crack. Just enough.
"There's a doctor," Steven said, the words pulled from him against his will. His voice was strained, fighting every syllable.
"A hunter doctor. Private clinic."
"Yes," Varyn encouraged, his silver eyes widening slightly. "What does this doctor do?"
"Transplants." Steven's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. "Monster parts. Can graft them onto humans. Skills transfer with the tissue."
"Where is this clinic?"
That, Steven managed to keep locked away. The location. Nox's name. Anything that could lead Varyn directly to the doctor. Those details were buried too deep, protected by sheer stubborn will and the overwhelming desire to protect someone who'd saved his life.
"Don't know," Steven forced out. "Was taken there. Didn't see the route."
It was a lie. But it was a lie Varyn couldn't quite break through.
Varyn's expression tightened with frustration. He pushed harder, his skill intensifying. The pressure in Steven's head became almost unbearable.
The frost in the room exploded outward.
Ice covered the walls completely now. It spread across the ceiling, the floor, the table. Frost formed on Varyn's uniform, on his perfect hair, on his face. His breath came in harsh gasps as the temperature dropped below freezing.
"That's enough," Steven said, and his voice carried a weight that made Varyn take a step back.
"Get out of my head. Now."
Varyn released his skill. The pressure vanished instantly. He stumbled backward, his elegant composure finally breaking. Frost covered half his face, creating a white mask over his pale skin. His uniform was frozen solid, the fabric stiff and crackling with ice.
"A hunter doctor," Varyn repeated, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Who can transplant monster parts and transfer skills. That's all you're giving me?"
"That's all you're getting," Steven replied. "Now get the fuck out "
"This is an interrogation room, not your office."
"Then I'm leaving." Steven stood, his chair scraping against the frozen floor.
"Unless you plan to arrest me for defending the city?"
Varyn straightened his frozen uniform as best he could. Ice crackled and fell from the fabric. His silver eyes were cold now, any pretense of gentleness gone.
"This isn't over, Steven."
"It never is with you."
Steven walked to the door. Frost followed his footsteps, leaving frozen prints on the floor. He paused at the threshold, looking back at the general who was now brushing ice from his hair.
"Stay away from that doctor," Steven said quietly. "I'm warning you."
"Or what?"
"Or you'll find out what this new skill can really do."
Steven left, closing the door behind him. The sound of his boots echoed down the hallway, growing fainter.
Varyn stood alone in the frozen interrogation room. His breath misted in the frigid air. He looked down at his hands, at the frost covering his fingers, and for a moment, his perfect composure cracked completely. His face twisted into an expression of pure frustration and rage.
Then he smoothed his features, forced the gentle smile back onto his face, and pulled out his phone.
"Emily," he said into the device. "Come to interrogation room seven."
There was a pause. Then a soldier appeared from the shadows in the corner of the room. She'd been there the whole time, invisible, waiting.
Emily was a B rank hunter, infiltration class. Her ability to blend into shadows made her nearly undetectable. She was one of Varyn's personal operatives, someone he'd carefully cultivated over years of subtle manipulation.
"Yes, Brigadier General?" Emily's voice was neutral, professional.
"I need you to retrieve something for me," Varyn said, brushing more ice from his uniform.
"From the frozen Fire Titan in the industrial district. I want the corpse. Specifically, I want the part with the highest concentration of fire. The heart, if it's intact."
Emily's expression didn't change, but there was a slight hesitation. "Sir, that corpse is currently under military quarantine. Retrieval would require authorization from Central Command."
"I'm giving you authorization."
"With respect, sir, I meant authorization from someone ranked above both of us."
Varyn turned to look at her. His silver eyes caught the light, the violet rings seeming to swirl. "Are you questioning my orders, Emily?"
The pressure returned. Not directed at Steven this time, but at her. Emily felt it immediately, that familiar weight pressing down on her thoughts, making it hard to think clearly.
She trembled slightly, her hands clenching at her sides. "No, sir. I'll get it done."
"Good." Varyn's smile returned.
"I want it delivered to my private office within twenty-four hours. Quietly. Tell no one."
"Yes, sir." Emily saluted, then melted back into the shadows, disappearing from sight.
Varyn waited until he was sure she was gone. Then he walked to the frozen table and ran one elegant finger across the ice. His reflection stared back at him from the crystalline surface, distorted and fractured.
"A hunter doctor who can modify human bodies," he murmured to himself.
"Who can transplant monster parts and transfer their skills." His smile widened, genuine this time, though there was nothing gentle about it.
"Let's see what you can do, Doctor."
He pulled out his phone again and began typing, sending encrypted messages to various contacts. Investigators. Information brokers. People who owed him favors or were already under his influence.
If there was a clinic in this city that could perform such procedures, he would find it.
And when he did, he would have exactly what he needed. A way to overcome his greatest weakness. A way to finally prove himself as more than just the pretty manipulator who couldn't fight.
A way to become truly powerful.
Varyn left the interrogation room, his frozen uniform gradually thawing as he walked through the warmer hallways. Officers saluted as he passed. He returned each gesture with his gentle smile, his soft voice offering pleasantries.
None of them knew what he was thinking. What he was planning.
That was how he preferred it.
Always smile. Always be gentle. Always make them think you're harmless.
And then, when they least expect it, show them exactly how dangerous a mind can be.