Nero walked through a long corridor deep within the fortress. He was in the right wing of the colossal structure. The passage was dimly lit, only illuminated by a few torches mounted on the walls. Of course, they could have used symbols instead, but drawing symbols came at an immense cost.

  There were two types of symbols: active and passive ones. An active symbol was one that, once activated, produced a single effect. These required nothing more than a small amount of magic to be drawn. Passive symbols, however, were far more complex. They were drawn only once and lasted until they were destroyed. Some could be reactivated repeatedly, while others had permanent effects.

  For instance, there were passive symbols on the outer walls that made them nearly indestructible by conventional means. But such symbols contained immense potential, and their cost was equally staggering. They not only required magical energy to be drawn but also drained the life force of the one who inscribed them.

  Ramor, who was walking behind Nero, had sacrificed over a hundred years of his life force to inscribe the symbols within the fortress. Even for a Polykenas, this was an enormous price to pay. While magic granted their kind extended lifespans, the life force demanded by symbols increased in proportion to the strength of their creator. This was why Ramor lived significantly longer than most.

  Wasting his, or any other Symbolic's life just for convenient lighting would have been sheer foolishness. Instead, Nero had ordered several human slaves to ensure the torches were always replaced before they burned out.

  Nero owned countless human slaves, all imprisoned in the dungeons beneath his fortress. One reason for this was, of course, to use them for experiments, but that was not the only reason. In truth, Nero had no real use for slaves. With an army of millions of Polykenas under his command, humans were nothing more than weak, fragile creatures, with no place in his grand design.

  But that didn't matter. Nero wanted them to be enslaved.

  A deep, burning hatred for humanity festered within him—an all-consuming loathing, not just for individuals, but for the entire species.

  And above all, he despised religious fanatics. That was why every single one of his captives was a devout follower of the Church. Among them, locked away in the depths of his dungeons, was none other than the Pope himself. There was something uniquely satisfying about seeing these once-proud, self-righteous men and women—people who had once believed the world belonged to them—stripped of their status, caged like animals, and reduced to performing the most menial household tasks. It was a twisted pleasure, watching their arrogance crumble into despair.

  Nero, followed by Ramor and Shire, strode purposefully down the corridor toward a heavy steel door at the far end. When they reached it, Nero knocked on the closed door.

  He had to wait almost five minutes before it finally swung open.

  Behind it stood a massive Polykenas. He was tall, even towering over Shire. However, in contrast to Shire, he was one of the white Polykenas.

  The massive muscles that gave Shire his dangerous appearance were noticeably absent in this one. Yet, despite his frail frame, the being exuded an unsettling aura. Like nearly all Polykenas, he was male—only the Queen was female.

  His face was obscured by a long mask in the shape of a raven's beak, a relic stolen from the plague doctors encountered during the subjugation and enslavement of humanity. Since then, he had never taken it off.

  Three long, curved horns protruded from his skull, and through the lenses of his mask, two large, yellowish eyes gleamed with an almost maddening intelligence.

  He wore a long black coat that concealed his form but was clearly too short for him. A magical aura emanated from his clothing, signifying the powerful symbols embroidered upon it.

  Upon recognizing Nero, the being's eyes widened further. He immediately bowed deeply."Forgive me, my Duce. I was in the middle of a delicate experiment. I did not intend to keep you waiting."

  Ramor snorted. "That is no excuse to make your Duce wait—"

  Nero raised his hand, cutting Ramor off. He regarded the Polykenas with a cold, impassive stare. This was Ester, the last of his five generals. Nero knew he was telling the truth.

  Ester was many things, but loyalty to Nero was ingrained in him as deeply as in any other Polykenas. Like all five of his generals, Ester's role was of immense importance.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  He was the youngest of them, yet in terms of power, he was on par with Shire and just below Xersies, but he possessed blood magic instead. Despite his formidable strength, he rarely used his powers in battle, preferring instead to focus on research.

  "Come in, my Duce," Ester said at once. Then, glancing at Ramor and Shire, he added, "Not you two. You are too fat," he pointed at Shire,

  "And you..." he looked at Ramor, "You are just annoying!"

  Shire growled angrily and took a step toward the wiry Polykenas, opening his mouth as if about to protest. Nero watched the exchange with detached amusement. He often let the five generals settle their disputes amongst themselves. Only when someone overstepped his limits would he intervene. Where exactly that limit lay was something Nero would determine in due time.

  Before Shire could speak, Ester cut him off, his eyes filled with boredom. "Fine, come in as well. But don't touch anything! Especially you, Shire—you always break something with your clumsy paws."

  Shire closed his mouth again and said nothing, simply walking inside the Room. Ramor, on the other hand, was seething. As he entered the room, he launched into a tirade against Ester, berating him for his uncouth behaviour and lack of respect for his elders.

  Ester ignored him entirely, long accustomed to Ramor's endless lectures.

  The room was large and easily spacious enough to accommodate all of them. A strong scent of blood filled the air, stinging Nero's nose as he stepped inside. But after fifty years of committing genocide against entire species, he was long since accustomed to the smell.

  Blood was splattered across the entire chamber. The space was divided into four distinct sections:

  The first was an area with a massive counter covered in countless piles of various materials, differing in color and shape. Alongside them lay stacks of inscribed notes, parchments, and thick books. This was where Ester documented all his experimental findings.

  The second section was filled with shelves containing an assortment of herbs, minerals, and other alchemical ingredients. Scattered notes and parchments were strewn everywhere. Nero had no idea how Ester managed to navigate this chaos.

  The third area housed an array of cages containing all manner of creatures—even humans and Polykenas. While the Polykenas were in noticeably better condition than the others, Nero knew they were not here by choice. They were the weak and useless members of the species—expendable. Most astonishing was the absolute silence that pervaded the chamber. No screams, no sobs, not even the faintest cough. This was, of course, due to the multitude of symbols engraved on the cages, suppressing all sound.

  And lastly, in the center of the room, was the "surgical area." A blood-soaked bed lay there, occupied by a bound human, drenched in crimson from head to toe. Incisions covered her body, with numerous tubes pumping multicolored fluids into her veins. The subject was a woman in her early twenties, barely clinging to life. Next to the bed was a counter cluttered with notes and surgical instruments. She had likely once been beautiful, but that mattered little to Ester, who had mercilessly experimented on her.

  By now, she was no longer human. She had mutated into something entirely different. Horns protruded from her skull, and her eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow hue. One of her hands had begun to atrophy, two fingers shriveling into useless stumps, while another had transformed into a claw. She looked like a grotesque hybrid of human and Polykenas.

  If one traced the source of the blood coursing through the tubes, they would find it came from the captive Polykenas. Ester held no regard for human life—nor for his own species. He cut, dissected, and experimented on anyone and anything in the pursuit of knowledge. Among the Polykenas, there was no concept of kinship—only the recognition of strength. It was Xersies alone who had kept them from annihilating each other ages ago.

  "How are your experiments progressing, Ester?" Nero asked, genuinely curious.

  Ester had been obsessed for decades with the idea of creating Polykenas through means other than Chaos Energy. With the completion of the fortress, they had finally found an efficient method to create millions of Polykenas in a short period of time. However, it remained a costly and arduous process—one that required the complete destruction of an entire planet. And, of course, such an act demanded an unimaginable toll in lives.

  On weaker planets, where the inhabitants were disorganized and fragmented, the loss might be as little as a few tens or hundreds of thousands. But if the planet's people managed to unite quickly, forming a vast, coordinated army, the cost could rise exponentially. In such cases, it wasn't uncommon for Nero to lose millions of his own Polykenas in a single campaign.

  The numbers were staggering, but this was the reality of war—wars not just between nations, but between entire species and planets.

  That was why Nero allowed Ester to continue his research. If Ester could find a way to create Polykenas through other means—perhaps even through reproduction, like humans—then Nero's army could grow and strengthen at an alarming rate. Ester sighed. "Unfortunately, I have made little progress."

  Nero glanced at the half-transformed woman and raised an eyebrow. "This looks promising to me."

  Ester nodded. "I also thought so at first. But the blood acts as a poison, slowly killing the subject. Moreover, while superficial mutations occur, the essence remains human. They gain none of the traits that make our species strong. Not even a magical heart forms."

  Nero did not let his disappointment show. Instead, he grinned, "Don't be sad. I have good news! Pause your research for now. We will find a new planet to conquer."

  At these words, Ester's sorrow vanished, replaced by gleaming, eager eyes. Like every Polykenas, he craved chaos and destruction as an addict craved his next fix.