Chapter 380
The mages, along with Gurnak, watched as the mist fulfilled its intended purpose. They paid little attention to the side effects, as these were a necessary consequence aligned with their ultimate goal. The more irritable the ratmen became, the easier they would be to control.
Satisfied with the mist’s success, the mages turned their focus elsewhere, already plotting how to use it on other ratmen under their dominion. Gurnak, however, remained behind, observing the ratmen with growing unease. He noticed their newfound bravery as they launched reckless attacks against the hybrid.
Initially, he had been eager to see the end result of their experiments. Yet things took a dark and unexpected turn when the ratmen began feeding on the hybrid demon’s corpse. Gurnak could have intervened early on, but he had underestimated the significance of their actions.
Now, as he observed their grotesque transformations, he realized the mist had sown seeds of corruption, and the hybrid flesh had nurtured those seeds into a monstrous reality. He had overlooked their desperation, hunger, and capacity for self-destruction.
The signs of their societal collapse were unmistakable. The ratmen, once skittish but resourceful, had devolved into reckless, cruel beings. Their twisted machines, powered by hybrid flesh, were horrific constructs—groaning, hissing abominations that seemed almost alive. Infighting, paranoia, and grotesque mutations were no longer mere setbacks but hallmarks of a crumbling order.
The more Gurnak observed, the more he doubted whether the mages still controlled the situation. The ratmen had ceased to be tools; they were becoming something far more dangerous. He had seen them graft hybrid flesh onto their bodies in crude attempts to mimic the hybrids’ resilience. Their patchwork forms—sinew, scales, and fur grotesquely stitched together—were horrifying. He had witnessed their flesh-engines devour faltering ratmen, their screams drowned out by the rhythmic thudding of pulsating hybrid hearts powering the machines.
Gurnak knew he had to act. The underground had become a twisted pit of nightmares, and if he remained silent, things would spiral further out of control. Yet fear of repercussions weighed heavily on him. Among the empire’s elite, he couldn’t imagine anyone reacting favorably to the news he was about to relay. What should have been a success story, elevating his status as a Tower Master, now threatened to strip him of that title—or worse.
After pacing with his hands behind his back, Gurnak made a decision. Reluctantly, he called Vellok. The choice pained him; he disliked Vellok, a fellow Tower Master who always made him feel inadequate. Yet Gurnak had no other option.
The call connected, revealing Vellok’s youthful face framed by clear glasses. On his desk, a map lay open, marked with several strategic locations.