Rynel moved in silence.

  Behind the altar, the narrow passage the priest led him into was deeper—and rougher—than it looked.

  The floor beneath his feet wasn’t natural stone.

  It was carved by force. The grain caught at his toes like dull knife marks.

  The air carried a foreign dampness, and a presence that lived inside the quiet.

  With every step,

  a drop fell from the ceiling.

  Tuk.

  Tuk.

  Even that sound couldn’t last. It died inside the corridor.

  Even the smallest footstep vanished, as if someone had clamped a hand over its mouth.

  Rynel glanced back.

  The door was already shut.

  The priest only walked forward, silent, eyes ahead.

  “···What’s down here?”

  The priest answered without hesitation. Precise. Mechanical.

  “A place where a sacred experiment is performed.”

  That single line flattened the corridor.

  It was brief, but the weight was different.

  ‘Experiment···? What kind of experiment.’

  The farther down they went, the wetter it became. The darker too.

  Mana residue drifted through the air like invisible dust.

  It wasn’t just a “presence.”

  It felt alive—like something with intent was watching his movement.

  Rynel stopped without meaning to.

  In that instant, mana stirred beneath his feet.

  He couldn’t see it, but it was there.

  Like leftover emotion. Damp. Clinging.

  The priest didn’t stop.

  Not a tremor in his gait—like someone who knew this place by heart.

  Rynel’s brow tightened.

  ‘The air is completely different from above··· This isn’t the temple’s true face.’

  Then the corridor ended.

  The narrow, twisting path cut off as if someone had severed it.

  The priest stopped first.

  “We’re here.”

  He pulled on the handle of a heavy iron door.

  Kiiik.

  Cold seeped through the rusted seam.

  Beyond it, a different depth opened—

  the temple’s undercore.

  The moment the door swung wide, cold struck Rynel’s face head-on.

  Two steps in, and it felt like the world above had been severed.

  As if he’d descended into another layer entirely.

  The walls weren’t stone.

  They were artificial—metal and crystal fused together.

  The ceiling was low. A dim magical lamp barely kept the space alive.

  Flicker.

  Flicker.

  The light wasn’t stable.

  Rynel narrowed his eyes.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Magic circles were carved into the floor at fixed intervals.

  Meticulous, razor-fine lines—as if drawn by a careful hand.

  At the center of each, dried blood had been left behind like stains.

  “···What is this place?”

  His voice dropped on its own.

  His eyes were already drawn to the middle of the chamber.

  A small worktable.

  Unsorted vials. Old research notebooks.

  Glass tubes scattered around—each holding preserved “something.”

  Not simple specimens.

  In the preserving fluid floated fragments—small and large—of living things.

  A claw bristling with spines.

  An insect’s eye.

  A wet carapace.

  A shattered scale.

  Rynel pointed at one tube.

  Inside was a malformed head-shape—scales and horn fused together.

  Hairline cracks webbed its surface, and a faintly glowing mana drifted within.

  “Is this··· alive?”

  “Not now. But it can be recycled.”

  “Recycled?”

  Rynel couldn’t continue for a moment.

  He slowly turned, taking in the room.

  Handwritten documents covering the walls.

  Incomplete magic circles.

  Biological specimens abandoned mid-dissection.

  A place meant to make something.

  Not creation—

  manipulation. Forcing order to bend and fit.

  Rynel drew in a breath.

  The air didn’t hold in his lungs.

  It was dull. Unstable.

  ‘This isn’t··· normal.’

  In the silence, he stopped moving.

  His gaze slid across surfaces, but his emotions hardened.

  His fingertips tingled.

  This wasn’t a familiar mana signature.

  It was more primal—laced with a deep, bodily rejection.

  Rynel slowly turned to the priest.

  “···What are you trying to do here.”

  His tone was firm.

  His emotion was pressed down.

  The priest tilted his head, smiling as if nothing had changed.

  “I told you. This is the experiment section.”

  “What experiment. And on what kind of subject.”

  “A perfect being.”

  The priest began to walk as he spoke.

  Behind him, carved circles and preserved fragments overlapped in Rynel’s view.

  “We combine the bodies of powerful creatures, and grant them a soul.”

  Rynel’s eyes cooled.

  “···Grant a soul.”

  The priest’s smile thinned, almost amused.

  “Children’s souls are pure. They bond well with mana.

  The problem is··· they don’t hold a stable form.”

  Rynel clenched his teeth.

  Every word caught like grit.

  “···So?”

  The priest stopped.

  Under his feet was a circle more complex than the rest—

  a dense ring of symbols, its red lines pulsing faintly.

  Like a living heart.

  “There’s mana inside you that a normal human can’t bear.

  And that mana··· wasn’t injected artificially. It’s part of you.”

  Rynel stepped back.

  The priest didn’t lose his smile.

  “What are you talking about.”

  “You didn’t know? There is demon-kind mana mixed into you.”

  It hit like a hammer.

  His skull rang.

  “···What.

  And what does that have to do with this.”

  The priest lifted a hand toward one wall.

  There, neatly arranged, were small structures—

  and above them, glass orbs containing incomplete shapes.

  “These soul-orbs are the result of dozens of trials.

  We infused children’s souls, but most collapsed not long after.

  Over time, the contact surface with mana tears apart.

  The body breaks down, and consciousness is erased.”

  He paused, then continued.

  “But once··· only once, a subject’s soul held a stable form for an extended period.

  The ‘medium’ used then was a small fragment containing your mana.”

  “···What?”

  “You’ll remember. A minor request when you first arrived here.

  A small box you carried without thinking.

  The ‘absorber’ inside gave us the decisive thread.”

  The priest produced a small vial.

  Inside floated a crystalline substance, like silver mist.

  “With that single fragment, one soul maintained its shape for the first time.

  In other words··· your mana is the key.”

  Rynel braced a hand against the wall and lowered his head.

  The fact that he’d become, without consent, someone’s survival condition—

  and someone else’s sacrifice—tightened around his throat.

  “···Those children. Are they connected to the ones who vanished from nearby villages.”

  The priest gave a short laugh.

  “Yes. They are.

  Their traces led here.”

  “···You bastard···.”

  His breathing roughened.

  The priest remained calm.

  “But if you cooperate,

  we can ensure your companions leave safely.”

  Rynel’s gaze shifted at once.

  “···Cooperate.”

  “All we ask is that you allow us to harvest your mana periodically

  and convert it into stable energy.”

  Rynel slowly raised his head.

  A tremor passed through him—then anger surged up behind it.

  “···That kind of experiment.

  No one could ever agree to it.”

  A brief silence.

  In that quiet, the anger he’d held down boiled over.

  “You squeeze children’s souls dry to make a hybrid···

  and you think you can call that life?”

  His voice was low.

  But the rage had an edge.

  The priest kept his pleasant smile.

  His hands moved softly as he sorted glass vials.

  “Life has never been defined.

  What we know isn’t the only correct form.

  If we’re to guide evolution without pain, some sacrifice is unavoidable.”

  “‘Some’?”

  Rynel stepped forward.

  His shadow stretched long across the worktable.

  The priest spoke quietly.

  “Then··· let’s begin.”

  As his fingers shifted, a low prayer slid out of the darkness.

  ‘El neka rin, pael luga···’

  From the corridor behind, figures in priestly garments emerged from shadow.

  They began chanting in unison.

  Light spilled from the priest’s fingertips, cutting the air.

  It connected to the floor circles and spread in an instant.

  Red lines.

  Blue rings.

  Black dots.

  It almost looked like harmony—

  but it wasn’t peace.

  Mana clashed. Suppressed. Corroded.

  Rynel was already inside the central circle.

  When he tried to move, the pattern climbed up along his feet.

  An unseen cord tightened around his body.

  “What is this···?”

  The priest nodded, satisfied.

  “We left only the heart’s flow and severed external response.

  Preparation to extract the essence of your mana.”

  Rynel narrowed his eyes.

  Heat flared deep inside his chest.

  ‘Forced transfer magic···?’

  And then—

  He closed his eyes for an instant, opened them,

  and a completely different space greeted him.

  The ceiling was even lower.

  The walls were covered in inorganic metal.

  It was dimmer than before, and the pressure was heavier.

  He knew it at once.

  This place didn’t have a normal exit.

  “A separation bay for extreme mana-reactive entities.

  A sealed space for isolating severely unstable subjects···.”

  Rynel inhaled.

  The air was thick. Iron and mana seeped into his lungs.

  Countless metallic grooves crisscrossed the floor.

  In the corners, heavy shackles and defensive devices were bolted into place.

  “···Where am I.”

  His voice left no echo.

  It was swallowed by the walls.

  Then the symbols on the wall began to blink, one by one.

  A signal.

  A prelude to activation.

  A vibration like a warning pulsed through the floor.

  Rynel dropped his center of gravity.

  The entire space was trembling.

  Metal rang with a mechanized thud—thud.

  A section of wall split open, revealing a massive stone coffin hidden inside.

  Something inside it moved.

  One. Two.

  Multiple “somethings” were alive.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  The darkness shook as shapes began to surface.

  First, a stag beetle-like horn—massive, branched.

  It scraped the wall as it pushed out.

  From the other side, another form tore through the dark.

  A shared silhouette.

  A bull’s torso.

  Crayfish pincers.

  A human male’s upper body.

  Pincers mounted at the shoulders.

  An overgrown trunk of muscle.

  Skin covered in dark red scales.

  Stitching marks and incomplete seams were exposed all over—

  like a living corpse sewn together.

  And the head.

  A lion’s face—except the mouth was split, the teeth layered in overlapping rows.

  The eyes were human-deep.

  And disturbingly clear.

  “···This is.”

  Rynel swallowed.

  One monster let out a low roar, and the others responded.

  The sound—speech, wailing, pain—was impossible to separate.

  As Rynel hesitated for a single beat,

  the front creature twisted and tore a steel ring free.

  Then others began breaking their restraints in a chain reaction.

  Metal and flesh and mana tangled together

  as the creatures closed in from multiple directions.

  ‘Unfinished evolutions.’

  The results of a brutal experiment.

  The ring tightened.

  And at the same time···

  Blue mana bloomed from Rynel’s eyes.

  It spread like a compressed wave, making even the air vibrate.

  “···I’m ending this experiment.

  All of it.”