Azotreh awoke, not from a nightmare, but from what was supposedly the inside of her own soul. The sun hadn't yet risen, replaced instead by the golden light of the dawnlight moon. But her room was alive with glittering blue lights, their harsh brilliance filtering through her eyelids.
The source became clear immediately as Azotreh opened her eyes. A dark figure loomed over them, a single crimson eye glowing from beneath the false hood of the imposing figure.
"You have awakened, AZ-087."
A mechanical voice emerged from the bed beneath Azotreh, a detached artificial voice box of the administrator. The man, if he could even be called such a thing, wasn't even in the room with her, instead using the metal of the facility to create what he called an avatar of himself.
"You've changed, and without assistance. I need to know how..."
A second eye, connected to the wall by a straight pole of black iron, appeared from the darkness of the room. Rather than a pupil, the artificial iris held a strange rune Azotreh had never seen before.
The eye began to glow, and the collar of brands flared to life in a show of brilliant, harsh reds and oranges. They burned against Azotreh's skin, searing themselves once more into her flesh.
Before Azotreh could let out a sound, a third eye emerged from the wall, glowing a bright mix of purple and silver. Her body locked up and remained completely stationary despite her attempts to struggle. She couldn't even force her vocal cords to move and release a sound. Her eyes were stuck, staring straight into the projected eyes of the administrator.
"The brands halted a complete system integration, likely separating the core and mind functions somehow. Your intelligence, wisdom, and charisma are extremely deep for your rank, but the percent bonuses from skills weren't applied. I'll reference my notes about that."
The brands burned hotter with each passing moment. Her skin began to turn red around them, almost beginning to melt before the temperature of the room dropped sharply. Azotreh still couldn't even attempt to scream or escape. The forceful cooling of the room did little to assist in the burning pain still coursing through her body.
"The innate power of your hero bloodline activated, as did… curious. Where did this secondary innate ability come from? I don't know it."
The voice from beneath her bed sent vibrations through her body as the purple eye ceased glowing. It retracted into the wall, soon followed by the unknown eye. That left only the original false eye of the administrator.
"Your growth has been rapid, even with your impediments. I will supply you with additional materials to push your growth even faster. Training will begin after AZ-02."
A chill ran down Azotreh's spine at the reminder of the upcoming experiment. The one that might mean the end of her life.
She suddenly felt something chill and smooth drop into her lap; reaching down, she found a small vial filled with crimson fluid. Another crimbrew-recipe healing potion. She was a little surprised she hadn't built up a resistance to these after drinking so many.
Azotreh remained on her back for a silent moment as the brands began to cool, her hands still trembling after the pain that continued to echo through their body. But she eventually sat up, letting the potion fall into her lap. She pulled the cork from the flask with shaking fingers and downed it in one gulp.
The frayed nerves across her body soothed as the potion moved down their throat, though they stopped feeling the arcane power of the crimson fluid after it passed under the brands. The sensation, or lack thereof, when imbibing something containing arcane power was still off-putting. But she couldn't do anything about the intricate marks in her skin. Or could she?
Azotreh looked at the glass vial in their hand as a brilliant, horrible idea entered her mind. Some other experiments had tried to remove their collars with strength or tools, but none had the kind of collar Azotreh did.
She stood from her bed, bare feet padding against the cold steel of the room. The lights were still on, though they were dimming back to the semi-bright state they remained in while an experiment failed to sleep.
She moved as silently as she could, which was easy considering her bare feet. She hadn't done it much, but knew how to move like a mouse.
She entered the bathroom and smashed the vial against the sink. The arcane glass didn't so much as crack as their hands brought it down on the black marble-like surface. Yet she did so over and over again. If there was one obvious thing about the facility and all of its amenities, it was its toughness. The black iron was probably somewhere in the sapphire or amethyst-tier, maybe even gold-rank like the administrator. It would make sense.
She hit the glass against the marble over and over, watching as the vial slowly began to crack. At first it was a slight dent, but as she continued at it, the material began to show spiderweb cracks across its surface.
She didn't bother to even try to mute her sound. The facility was supposedly soundproofed to nearby experiments, and if by chance one of the guards heard her, it wasn't too out of the ordinary for an experiment to try to break something. They hopefully wouldn't check on her.
Finally, the flask shattered into tiny shards of glass. Most were too small for what Azotreh had in mind, or were too smooth. But one, with a jagged tip like that of an obsidian spearhead, caught Azotreh's eye.
She held the piece of arcane glass between her fingers, examining it as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her hand trembled on the glass, but she clenched their other fist and used her knowledge from days of holding onto that mana quartz like it was the only thing in their tiny world to steady their grip.
Azotreh glared at her reflection as she brought the reinforced glass to her throat. She didn't know if it would work, but it had worked within the realm with the purple sky.
As if sensing her intentions, one of the runes on the collar of brands suddenly lit up in a repeating pattern. Only one, and it glowed in a rather specific pattern. She couldn't understand the pattern, but assumed it was some kind of code. Maybe something that Nicholas knew but she didn't? The man was still youthful, but held a lot more knowledge than she could imagine.
She had no inkling as to what the code could mean, but if the collar wanted to give instructions, she would accept them. Not like she had a better option.
She once more had to take a short moment to stabilize herself. This was going to hurt, but there was no way around that. The only way she'd make any progress in discovering herself was if this collar was damaged.
She plunged the glass into the top of the rune, painting the clear surface of the enhanced material a deep crimson. Blood only trickled free; it still nearly caused her to pass out. Her blood, spilled so easily. But she had to persevere, or she had no hope of escape.
She slowly and carefully brought the glass shard down the rune, slicing open her skin and the brand at the same time. Blood continued to flow, warm against the chill air and burning hot against their skin. It quickly hardened against their flesh, drying faster than she thought normal. But she hadn't bled much without the assistance of a healer or the blessed quiet of unconsciousness.
She continued to carefully bring the blade further down her throat, leaving the open gash in its wake. She heard the sound of their door being dispelled, the blue light it released vanishing in the dim facility lighting.
The facility rumbled, and the lights flickered as Azotreh was just about to reach the bottom, causing her to jump in surprise. Before Eye of the Black Dragon could activate, her suddenly unsteady hands slipped, sending the shard of glass out of their hands.
Blood sprayed out of the final, much deeper wound she'd caused herself in her fright. For a moment, she felt their aura finally push free. She could vaguely feel the overlapping auras of the guards, all filled with the same cleansing chill. But more, she could feel the mana in the air. Not just the mana, but the other things. Concentrations of something that felt dark and metallic around the walls, a mix of something filled with undying momentum and endless life in the spilled blood.
The wonders of the world were, for a moment, laid bare before her eyes. Along with them, the screaming voice of Nicholas.
What were you thinking? Are you alright?
The voice echoed through her mind, clearly that of her spiritual co-habitant. She could feel him now, in the very center of her being. He'd never left; she just hadn't been able to feel him before.
She desperately looked for the shard of glass dropped in their fright, Eye of the Black Dragon allowing her to see in the dimness, though as lights came on, its effectiveness rapidly diminished. She found the shard in a pool of their own blood. She grabbed it again, but was forced to let it go as a powerful hand wrenched it from her grasp.
"Glass? Where the hell did you get glass?" A gruff voice asked as a guard lifted Azotreh from the ground. The guard was around 195 centimeters tall, easily lifting the much smaller Azotreh from the ground.
"There's more glass in the sink, boss." A second, distinctly younger voice said from where Azotreh had shattered the vial.
"Any idea where AZ-087 got it?" The first replied.
"It's nickel-rank glass, so it can't have been from anyone in her local circle."
The first guard didn't bother to ask Azotreh, instead turning to a woman in white robes. While the two men wore overly shiny white metal armor, the woman wore a proper cloth robe.
"The kid decided to tear one of the runes in her collar. She'll need healing."
The priestess raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"
Instead of responding with words, the guard just turned and held the prone Azotreh out to the woman. She ran two fingers along the cut in Azotreh's throat, her face still serene.
"One of the branded. Before or after the divine infusion?"
"Before the system integration. You know how Doc gets over you calling it a divine infusion."
The priestess's counter was cut short as the second guard, somewhere in his early twenties by appearance, held up the cork to the potion bottle.
"Found this in the room. Crimbrew standard healing potion, by the looks of it."
The priestess sighed before reaching out to take Azotreh by the same arm she was being held in by the guard. She still didn't struggle, since it wouldn't do them any good. Even if these guards were at the peak of tin-rank, they'd be much too strong for Azotreh to ever think about trying to escape their grip. Even if she managed to startle them, she wouldn't have made it far. She'd seen enough of the others make the attempt to know that.
"If it was taken in the last cycle, I'll have to take this one to the infirmary. Don't want to have to treat potion sickness too. She'll have her next test tomorrow." Her tone was flat as a plain and cold as the fresh, desolate snow.
Both guards winced as the priestess turned with Azotreh to the door. Before they took a step, Nicholas' voice came back into focus in Azotreh's mind. As if he'd suddenly moved to stand right beside them.
Quick, kid. Grab a few pieces of paper.
Azotreh did as instructed, reaching for the paper on their desk. The priestess was about to simply ignore them and leave when a panel in the wall opened once more, the crimson eye of the administrator emerging to stare at the priestess. She froze in her tracks.
"Hendrika. Gather the papers and the mana quartz on the desk into your spatial bag and leave it with her when she enters the infirmary."
The priestess, Hendrika, turned to look at the eye, then bowed her head and did as commanded. Azotreh was stunned by the subservience, as she'd never seen any of the priests follow orders of anyone in the facility. She was sure the priests would only follow the commands of the great divine, and maybe his direct subordinates.
The priestess grabbed the pieces of paper scattered on her desk and their mana quartz pen and shoved them into a small bag at her waist before leaving with Azotreh for the infirmary.
When they arrived, she dropped Azotreh unceremoniously onto one of the cots, which lit up with verdant energy. She also placed the papers beside Azotreh before leaving her there.
Nicholas made a sound in her head like releasing a breath of relief before issuing a few further commands.
Take one of those papers and tear off a corner. No larger than your thumb.
Azotreh measured the paper carefully and, using her steady hands, she ripped a part of the paper away. No one came to check on them, and it was likely no one would.
Good. Now stick that piece of paper into the wound you made.
Azotreh froze, staring at the paper in her hand.
Quickly, quickly. It'll stop it from closing quickly.
Nicholas's voice was more urgent now, and filled with an underlying echo of something else.
Azotreh only hesitated for a moment before bringing the paper up and gently sliding it into the still open wound. A piercing pain shot through Azotreh's neck as she inserted the paper, but she once again ignored it. Her steady hands slid the paper into the wound, letting the edges cut her still exposed flesh. The paper was immediately turned red with blood, and Azotreh folded what they could of the wet paper close to their skin.
It would take a bit to dry, but Azotreh had a bit of time. Long enough, she hoped, that no one would notice the paper in her flesh.