Genetics, Aging, or Stress?

ALEXIA

The scene shifted to a battlefield. But there weren't any warriors in sight.

Under the bloody light of a setting sun, corpses were piled high. In the middle of the carnage, a group of Men in the White Coats stood in a circle around a massive, black mass.

Olivier was nowhere to be found.

The rest of us trailed after Alpha as she approached the strange object.

"What is that...?" Rose muttered, her voice trembling.

The "black mass" was actually a giant arm. It was the limb of an Abomination—black, thick, and hideously bloated. Its long, sharp claws were caked in bits of raw, rotting flesh.

"The Left Arm of Diabolos," Alpha explained. "Even after being hacked off, the thing refused to die."

She wasn't kidding. The arm was still pulsing.

A Man in the White Coat stepped a little too close, and in a flash, those claws lunged out and skewered him. He was dead before he hit the ground. The Cult had the arm restrained with heavy chains and stakes, but I could feel an enormous amount of Magic Power leaking from the site.

"Using advanced Artifacts, the Cult successfully sealed the Left Arm. The seal wasn't perfect, though. Over time, the localized distortion created a Sanctuary. But that’s a story for another time. What the Cult really wanted was the incredible life force within the Diabolos Cells."

On the screen of the past, a Man in the White Coat began draining blood from the arm and carving off chunks of meat.

The most disturbing part? Both the blood and the flesh regenerated almost instantly.

"By studying the arm, the Cult developed a drug to enhance the human body. It had some nasty side effects, but unlike previous versions, men could actually use it."

Alpha reached into her pocket, pulled out a pill, and flicked it with her thumb.

It flew through the air in a perfect arc, skittering across the floor until it tapped against Nelson’s shoe. It was a Red Pill—the same kind I’d seen before.

"While this drug provides the Cult's rank-and-file with their strength, their true source of power is something else entirely. They spent centuries researching the biology of Diabolos to create the ultimate medicine."

The scenery blurred and transformed.

We were now in a sterile, white laboratory. A group of Men in the White Coats were huddled around a desk, waiting with bated breath for a grand finale.

A single drop of liquid fell into a small vial.

"They say that when it was finished, the liquid glowed with a crimson light, looking exactly like the blood of Diabolos itself."

It was beautiful, in a twisted way. The liquid radiated a vivid, brilliant red.

The men in the room erupted into cheers. Their leader leaned down and took a lick.

"Consuming that liquid grants the user immense power... and an immortal body. It seems our hypothesis was right on the money."

Alpha turned her gaze toward Nelson. He remained silent, hanging his head as if trying to crawl into his own shadow.

"Now then," Alpha said, pointing to one of the researchers at the edge of the memory. "Doesn't that Man in the White Coat over there look familiar?"

My eyes darted between the memory and the man standing next to us.

"...!"

It wasn't just a resemblance. The researcher and Acting Archbishop Nelson were identical. It was clearly the same person.

"So, what do you call this wonderful medicine?" Alpha asked.

"...The 'Droplets of Diabolos,'" Nelson muttered.

"Thanks. But these 'Droplets' weren't exactly perfect. They had two major flaws."

I’d already spotted one of them. The Nelson standing in the laboratory had a glorious, full head of hair. The Nelson standing here was... well, a cue ball.

"I see it. The Nelson from the past actually has hair," I chirped, unable to help myself. "I guess the 'immortality' didn't quite cover his scalp."

"That's not it," Alpha corrected.

"It was the stress! I lost my hair because of the stress!" Nelson barked.

"...Oh. My bad," I said. Yikes.

"Anyway," Alpha continued, "the first flaw is that the 'Droplets' have to be taken regularly, or the effects wear off. Right?"

"Once a year," Nelson admitted.

"Figures. And the second flaw is that the 'Droplets' can only be produced in tiny quantities."

"Correct again. Twelve drops per year."

"Twelve drops, huh? And if I recall correctly, there are exactly twelve members in the Knights of Rounds."

"Heh..." Nelson let out a low, dark chuckle.

"The Cult is led by twelve knights of Peerless power known as the Knights of Rounds," Alpha said. "Everyone in your organization vies for a seat, desperate for that power and eternal life. Isn't that the truth?"

Nelson’s laughter bubbled up from deep in his throat.

"The Cult is pouring everything into making the 'Droplets' perfect. The key is the sealed remains of Diabolos and the descendants who carry the Hero's Blood. Specifically, those who have inherited a concentrated dose of Olivier’s lineage. Someone like me."

"Precisely. I am the 11th Seat of the Knights of Rounds—Nelson 'The Avaricious'!"

He snapped his head up, his eyes glowing a predatory red.

I felt a sudden surge of overwhelming Magic Power and braced myself for a fight.

In that exact heartbeat, a Jet-black Blade punched straight through Nelson’s chest. The woman who had been holding him captive had decided to harvest his life without a second thought.

Nelson’s body went limp and hit the floor.

"Sorry, Alpha-sama. But Delta thought it would be better if I just hunted him now."

Her voice sounded way too casual for someone who had just shanked a high-ranking official.

"Delta..."

"Delta is a great hunter! The other day, I caught a wild boar in the mountains and—"

"Be quiet."

Oops. Delta quickly clamped her hands over her mouth and looked around.

"It's already too late," Alpha sighed. "Besides, you should take a closer look at your 'prey.'"

Nelson’s corpse began to fracture. The edges of his body crumbled away, vanishing into thin air.

That’s not how people die. It looked more like a mirror shattering.

"Here he comes."

Alpha’s warning and Delta’s instincts hit at the exact same time.

A massive greatsword swung through the air, aimed right for Delta’s neck. She hit the dirt just in time to dodge.

The shockwave from the swing was so intense the wind hit me like a physical blow. Delta, still low to the ground, pounced like a wild animal.

Her fangs met the edge of the greatsword with a metallic screech.

"A beast, I see..."

"Delta is the best hunter there is!"

Nelson muttered his observation, and Delta responded with a feral grin.

Delta’s canines were stained red, and Nelson’s cheek had been torn open. He didn't seem to care, though. He wiped the blood away, and the wound sealed itself up instantly.

Delta lengthened her Jet-black Blade, crouching low in a combat stance that looked more animal than human.

"Delta, wait."

At the sound of Alpha’s voice, Delta flinched.

"Your ears are showing."

"Ah...!"

Sure enough, Delta’s fluffy beast ears were poking out of the gaps in her slime suit. To make matters worse, the mask covering the bottom of her face had slipped.

She scrambled to cover up, but in her panic, she ended up exposing her white backside, her tail wagging frantically in the air.

"A Beastkin...?" Rose whispered.

"Wait, uh, Alpha-sama? I feel like my Magic Power is being sucked away," Delta noted.

"You're getting closer to the Center of the Sanctuary," Nelson answered for her.

"The Sanctuary is our domain. The closer you get to the heart of it, the more your power will wither away."

Nelson’s voice started to overlap with itself. His form flickered, splitting into two separate Nelsons before merging back into one.

"I wanted to lure you a bit deeper before springing the trap... but this spot will do. Let's try those introductions again, shall we?"

Nelson rested a greatsword—one nearly as tall as he was—across his shoulder and gave a mock bow.

"I am Nelson 'The Avaricious,' 11th Seat of the Knights of Rounds. I’ll make sure your bodies regret the day you bared your fangs at the Cult."

The face of the holy man was gone. In its place was the face of a bloodthirsty warrior.