Bloody Odyssey

Days turned into weeks.

Dax made steady progress. His understanding of mana grew with each passing session, each failed attempt, each painful breakthrough. He learned to feel the energy that surrounded him — not just as a force, but as an essence. Something that flowed through everything, connected everything, was everything.

And as he learned, he came to appreciate the magicians, the mages of this world.

They have built their entire lives around this.

He thought of Micah's words. The way he had explained mana and aura, the two paths that diverged from the same root.

Mages cultivate the soul.

The core is the seat of the soul. The mage feeds it, strengthens it, expands it. They draw mana from the world and make it their own.

While for aura masters the body is the vessel. It holds the mana, protects it, channels its power. Through the body.

But there was a danger to both paths.

The body is prone to fall to heart demons. The soul is prone to fall to possession.

Dax had asked Micah about these dangers. He had wanted to know what could drive a body to become a heart demon, what could corrupt a soul to the point of possession.

And Micah had told him stories.

Stories of mages who had pushed too far. Who had tried to force their bodies to hold more power than they could bear. Who had been consumed by their own ambitions, their own desires, their own hunger.

The body has limits, Micah had said. When you push beyond those limits, something breaks. And what rises from the broken pieces is not the same person who fell.

They become something else. Something that wears their face and speaks with their voice, but is no longer them.

That is a heart demon.

And the soul… the soul is fragile. It can be invaded. Consumed. Replaced. When a mage opens themselves too wide, too fast, they invite things in. Things that are hungry. Things that are patient. Things that have been waiting for a vessel to call their own.

Dax had listened to every word with maddened curiosity.

What makes a body fall?

What makes a soul become possessed?

What are the signs?

How do you stop it?

He had asked so many questions that Micah had finally raised his hands in surrender.

"Master, I have told you everything I know. If you want more, you will have to find it yourself."

Dax had smiled.

"I intend to."

In the depths of his lab, Dax continued his experiments.

The Gargarion hung suspended in its bindings — its massive red form still, its single eye fixed on its captor. It had grown accustomed to this. To the cuts, the samples, the endless extraction of data.

But something had changed.

"You speak to me now," Dax said, his voice calm as he worked. "Before, you only screamed."

The Gargarion's eye blinked slowly. Its voice was deep, resonant, ancient.

"I have accepted my place."

Dax paused. He looked up at the creature, his red eyes narrowing with interest.

"You have?"

"I am the king of my race. We have a tradition. When we lose, we are loyal to whoever defeated us." The Gargarion's voice carried no enmity, no hatred. Only resignation. And beneath that, something else.

Curiosity.

Dax smiled. He continued his work, his blade tracing delicate lines across the creature's flesh.

"You have been watching me."

"I have."

"And what have you seen?"

The Gargarion was silent for a moment. Its eye drifted across the lab — past the glowing tubes, the humming machines, the countless specimens suspended in fluid.

"I have seen a man who does not know how to stop. A man who will tear apart the world to find what he seeks. A man who will never be satisfied."

Dax's smile widened.

"An accurate assessment."

"You spoke of war."

Dax paused. He looked up at the Gargarion, his expression shifting.

"I did."

"A war against the Blood River."

"Yes."

The Gargarion's eye glowed faintly. Its massive body shifted in its bindings, straining against the chains that held it.

"Will there be blood?"

Dax tilted his head.

"There will always be blood."

The Gargarion's voice dropped to something almost reverent.

"Let me help you."

Dax raised an eyebrow.

"You want to help me?"

"I have been in this place too long. I have felt my power fade, my purpose wither." The Gargarion's voice carried a weight that had not been there before. "Even if it is just once. Even if it is just to experience the feel of war. Let my thirst be quenched. I have been caged for too long, Dax. Let me taste the battlefield again."

Dax was silent for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

He reached forward, his hand pressing against the creature's massive chest.

"Not yet," he said softly. "Soon. But not yet."

The Gargarion's eye flickered.

"Your thirst will be quenched," Dax promised. "I will make sure of it."

He returned to his work.

The dissecting continued as the Gargarion retained its stillness like it never spoke.

—-

The lab fell silent.

Dax's blade hovered over the Gargarion's exposed flesh, his red eyes fixed on the creature's single, massive eye. The air between them was thick with unspoken history.

"You know what you did the last time I let you go," Dax said quietly. "The last time I released you."

The Gargarion's eye flickered.

"You wrecked a planet clean. You destroyed its core. You said you wanted to taste it." Dax's voice carried no anger, no judgment. Only cold recollection. "You were so mad. You lacked restraints."

The Gargarion shifted in its bindings. Its voice rumbled like distant thunder.

"I wanted to taste its core."

Dax tilted his head.

"And now that you've finally tasted it… what happened?"

The Gargarion was silent for a moment. Then, a low sound escaped its throat — something that might have been a laugh.

"You had me there."

Dax's lips curved slightly. A rare moment of amusement.

"Funny guy."

He continued his work, his blade tracing delicate lines across the creature's flesh. The Gargarion did not flinch. It had grown accustomed to this — to the pain, to the extraction, to the endless cycle of being studied.

Dax straightened. He turned away without another word, his footsteps echoing through the lab as he walked toward the exit.

Behind him, the Gargarion was lowered back into its gene chamber. The glass sealed shut. The creature's eye followed Dax until the doors closed between them.

Dax walked through the corridors of his domain.

His steps were steady, unhurried. The silence of the lab gave way to the sounds of his isolation chamber — the hum of machinery, the soft glow of monitors, the scattered decks that covered every available surface.

He sat on his chair.

And he listened.

The drummings of different alien creatures echoed through the walls — a symphony of life, of captivity, of things that had been brought here and never allowed to leave. They were his. All of them his collection.

Kakarai.

The name surfaced in his mind like a memory he had almost forgotten.

Kakarai of the Blood River.

He remembered the man. The broken man who had been torn apart in Level 99. The man who could not die. The man who had let become something else entirely.

"Zero."

His voice was quiet. But it carried.

"Bring Kakarai to me."

In nothing less than a second, Kakarai appeared.

His body was still trembling from the torture he had endured in the Backrooms — the endless cycles of death and regeneration, the horrors that Level 99 had inflicted upon him. His eyes were white, clouded, unfocused.

But slowly, his body began to heal.

The trembling subsided. The cloudiness cleared. And soon, he regained consciousness.

The first thing he saw was the white-haired man.

Sitting casually at the table. Watching him with cold, red eyes.

Kakarai's mind raced. He remembered everything — the pain, the death, the endless suffering. And he remembered who had put him there.

"Vos des…"

His voice came out horrid, filled with tension. He smacked his head on the floor, his forehead pressing against the cold surface.

Vos des… vos des…

"Forgive me."

His voice was as deep and as demonic as ever. But beneath it, there was something else. Fear. Shame. The desperate need for approval.

Dax watched him.

"Unlimited potential." Dax observed him like an object.

Dax had grown since gaining mana and aura — since finally understanding the power system of this world. He could see Kakarai clearly now. A rank 4 mage. Technically, nothing special.

But performed extremely well in our last battle with the Blood River.

Dax's eyes narrowed.

Maybe I'll give it to his unlimited regeneration. Or would I say immortality? Since he can't die.

If it was alone, I believe he'll be decimated like a fool. Stuck in an endless cycle of death by his teacher.

He calculated silently. Kakarai's current power level should be around, maybe, seven. Perhaps higher.

But not enough. Not yet.

Dax's cold eyes continued to study the broken man before him.

Kakarai shivered.

"Why don't you share all the locations of the Blood River that you can remember?"

Dax's voice was calm. Unhurried.

"Everything you know about the Blood River. Its leaders. Its power structure. Its allies. Its weaknesses."

He leaned forward slightly.

"You're going to tell me about it. And you're going to leave nothing out."

Kakarai's head remained pressed against the floor.

Nothing out.

I will speak.

But if I speak, will he stop the pain? Maybe for a moment?

He swallowed.

"I will tell you everything, Master."

Dax smiled.

"Good."