The puppet stood motionless, like a corpse frozen mid-thought, with clouded eyes locked onto Ampelius with eerie, vacant focus. For a moment, there was no movement. The body just swayed slightly, as if suspended by invisible strings. Ampelius didn’t hesitate. He raised the sidearm and fired two shots into its chest. Both rounds struck clean.

  The body recoiled with each impact, jerking backward like a marionette with its strings cut. Blood seeped from the bullet holes, before something changed. The red fluid thickened as it oozed, forming a mercury-like sheen that clung to the skin. Then it began to spread.

  In seconds, the liquid metal crept across the corpse’s torso, weaving over its limbs like a spider spinning armor. Its face was the last to vanish, an expression frozen in death, before it too was swallowed by the creeping alloy. The result was grotesque: a fully armored figure, head to toe, encased in a gray, Velcro-textured exosuit that pulsed faintly with residual heat.

  The eyes retained their shape beneath the mask, but they were uncanny impressions molded into the armor. They glowed faintly, casting a dim blue shimmer through the metal. And still, they stared at him.

  Ampelius froze as more bodies began to move.Behind the first, the corpses started to twitch, their limbs jerking, shoulders convulsing, bones cracking faintly beneath the noise. One by one, they mimicked the same transformation. Metal seeped from their wounds, spreading like a virus across their flesh, consuming them.

  Soon, they all stood.

  Identical in posture, identical in silence, their eyes faintly glowed through their Velcro-like masks, all fixed on Ampelius. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He had no idea what to do, until Casper finally broke the silence, his voice sliding smoothly into his mind.

  “These are your servants. Compliments of the Asventi. I serve as their central hub, binding them together. By voice or thought, you may command them at will.”

  Ampelius relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing as if a weight had been lifted. He stepped forward toward one of the armored figures, cautious but curious, his gaze tracing the strange texture of its suit. It looked alive somehow, flexible yet impossibly strong. Curiosity took hold as questions swirled through his mind.

  “What are they? Are they alive?”

  Casper answered, his tone cool and detached.

  “They are reanimated vessels, cadavers with intact neural structures, enhanced by Asventi nanotechnology. The liquid metal you see is a reactive alloy. It spreads from a central node implanted near the brainstem, assuming it's still intact. As long as the brain is undamaged, the host can be reanimated and controlled, just like a puppet.”

  “Controlled by you?”

  “By me through you. You may issue vocal commands, gestures, or allow direct neural transmission. They are loyal. Efficient. Disposable.”

  Ampelius tilted his head, staring into the lifeless mask. The faint blue glow pulsed once, then dimmed.

  “Do they feel pain?”

  Casper paused.

  “Not in the way you understand it. Let me simplify. These vessels require no food, water, sleep, or blood. As long as they remain connected to the nanotech, which I’ll refer to as the chip, they can function indefinitely.

  Think of a human body like a motor vehicle. It has a frame, an engine, and internal systems that regulate fuel and movement. But without a driver, it has no purpose. The driver, meaning the conscious self, gives the vehicle direction. The brain in this analogy is similar to the onboard computer. It manages background systems such as heartbeat, digestion, and reflexes. Together, the driver and the computer keep the vehicle running.

  When a person dies, the driver is gone. If the computer, meaning the brain, is still intact but there is no one left to steer, the chip takes over. It does not restore the original person. It replaces the driver. The chip overrides the nervous system and maintains the biological functions necessary to prevent decay. Depending on the condition of the brain and body, it can mimic the functions the brain can no longer manage.

  The result is a functional shell. It is animated by design, built to be loyal, durable, and expendable.”

  Ampelius looked intrigued, perhaps even impressed. He circled one of the armored figures, eyes scanning the strange, textured surface. Finally, he reached out and pressed a hand to the chestplate. The material was cold. It felt like metal but carried the rough, fibrous texture of Velcro. Strange, yet sturdy. Definitely alien.

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  He turned to face Casper, a question forming as the weight of possibility settled over him.

  “How tough is this stuff?”

  “Tough enough to shrug off nine-millimeter rounds,” Casper replied smoothly. “We’ll need to field-test higher calibers. And as a matter of fact…”

  A faint click echoed down the corridor that was followed by the stomp of boots.

  “…here comes a squad now,” Casper finished with an edge of amusement. “Test your new followers.”

  With a casual flick of his hand, Ampelius sent three of the seven puppets forward. The movement was smooth, instinctive, as if the thought alone had already launched them into action.

  Down the hall, he saw shifting beams of light dancing across the far wall. The incoming squad had flashlights mounted to their rifles, slicing through the dim haze and pulsing red lights like searchlights. But before the soldiers could round the corner, the puppets struck, unleashing a sudden burst of chaos.

  Gunfire erupted, sharp and frantic. The distinct crack of rifles rang through the corridor, followed by the panicked rattle of automatic fire. Someone had switched to full auto, spraying wildly in a desperate, undisciplined attempt to hit something—anything.

  The muzzle flashes lit the walls in stuttering bursts. Ampelius stood still, watching from the shadows as his creations clashed with trained soldiers. There was no emotion on his face, only quiet interest as he observed their performance.

  Some of the soldiers began screaming in Latin, words Ampelius didn’t understand, but he didn’t need to. Their voices were laced with panic, raw and desperate. It was clear their bullets weren’t stopping the monsters bearing down on them, monsters they didn’t realize were once their own comrades.

  Ampelius stepped forward, deciding to check on the outcome now that the surviving soldiers were in retreat. He gave a single mental command, and the puppets stopped in unison, motionless. They did not pursue.

  Rounding the corner, he found all three still standing in formation, their armor gleaming faintly beneath the pulsing red lights and the scattered beams from the fallen soldiers’ flashlights. There were no signs of injury, no dents, no cracks, no leaking fluids. As far as he could tell, not a single round had even scratched them.

  He stepped beside one, running his hand across its chestplate. Not a single entry point. The armor had held completely.

  “Well,” he muttered with a faint smirk, “we can add five-five-six to the list of ineffective rounds.”

  "Noted" Casper replied.

  Ampelius counted four Roman soldiers lying dead across the corridor floor. Their uniforms were unfamiliar, very sleek, dark, and reinforced with light armor plating. They wore matte black visors over their eyes, with faint green indicators still pulsing near the temples. These weren’t standard infantry. Their gear was advanced, precise, tactical. Special operations, he guessed. But from what unit?

  He had never seen this group in the facility before. Not during his detainment. Not during observation. That realization brought a chill to his thoughts. A containment force?

  The idea unsettled him. If these men were assigned here in secret, it meant the Empire had anticipated something like this. Worse, it meant they had a protocol for it. He crouched beside one of the bodies, eyeing the insignia etched into the man's shoulder plate. No name. No rank. Just a red stripe slashed diagonally through a black Roman eagle.

  Who were they? And that raised another question. His eyes drifted toward the nearest puppet, now standing still beside the fallen. Who was the first? How did this even start?

  Casper answered before the silence could grow too long. His voice slipped back into Ampelius’ mind, calm and precise.

  "Me. I prepped the escape and injected a chip into the neck of a lone soldier who wandered off to relieve himself. He was alone, vulnerable. That was the opening. From there, it was a chain reaction."

  Casper paused, letting the next words settle.

  "The explosions you heard on the surface were not random. I coordinated multiple sabotage strikes, fuel reserves, communication uplinks, key transit junctions. All critical infrastructure. Enough chaos to pull every high-priority unit away from this facility. That was the plan. To make this place look unimportant. Overlooked."

  There was a faint, almost amused edge to Casper’s voice.

  "And it worked. They concentrated their resources into this single, sprawling facility that was tucked beside a mountain that, I might add, wasn’t even a Zavon springboard. But honestly, they really set themselves up for this. Someone made the choice to centralize everything here."

  Ampelius smirked, stepping over one of the fallen soldiers.

  “They must have thought it’d be easier to defend. Though whoever approved this location clearly didn’t think it through. A base next to a mountain? Not exactly tactical genius.”

  “This base predates the Zavon incursion by decades,” Casper replied, tone neutral again.

  “Originally, it served as a prison for political dissidents, for example, quiet disappearances, unofficial sentences and more. But as you've discovered, it's more than that. It became a black site. A place where experiments could proceed unchecked. Biotech trials, psychological manipulation, weapons testing. However, after the Zavon invasion, Rome reinforced it and expanded its purpose. They made it a multi-role stronghold.”

  Ampelius glanced around, taking in the evidence of that transformation, the fortified walls, sealed corridors, advanced surveillance systems now flickering in failure.

  “They believed this place could withstand anything,” Casper continued. “Even the Zavons. And perhaps they were right... until now.”

  He paused before adding the final note.

  “When the Zavons attacked, they targeted major cities first. Civilian centers. The heart of Roman power. But before that, they struck strategically, such as key military hubs, stockpiles of weapons and rare materials. They crippled Rome’s logistics in three swift attacks.”

  “Three bases? I remember hearing about one, briefly.” Ampelius asked.

  Casper confirmed. “Yes, there was three. That was all they had the strength for in their opening move. All of them were deep inside the Empire’s core territories. This one wasn’t touched. The Zavons didn’t consider it a threat.”

  Ampelius gave a low chuckle. “A mistake, clearly.”