"Luten, how are you feeling?"

  "I don't know."

  "We've been through this before. You need to answer us. It's for your own good."

  "Yeah, yeah, of course. All for my own good. How long have I been stuck here? You won't tell me who you are, where I am."

  Days without sun had melted into one endless "now." I stared at my hands again, traced with needle scars, as the guard unstrapped the restraints. Interrogations, tests, beatings from robots and humans—it all blurred into one monotonous nightmare. My magic hadn't returned, but rage kept growing, driving me to train every free second. One day, I'd fight back.

  "Guess who?"

  While I was doing push-ups, someone's hands covered my eyes from behind. It was that girl, the one who looked like Selena. She'd started visiting me often, chatting about nothing in particular.

  "Sylvie, you're the only one who can sneak into my room without me noticing."

  When she came the second time, we talked, and it turned out she didn't have a name. I decided to call her Sylvie. Thought about naming her Selena, but that would've been wrong.

  "Ha! Got it right! But it's getting harder to stay unnoticed each time. It's like you're growing new sensors every day."

  "Where am I supposed to get strong without magic? Though they're fattening me up here like I'm prime beef for the slaughter. Better tell me why you came early—won't they miss you?"

  "I don't care, let them look. If they catch me, they'll just inject more of their crap."

  She paused for half a second, as if about to add something important, but all that came out was:

  "Maybe I'll find what I'm looking for here... Or who I need."

  She took a brief pause.

  "Anyway, everyone's busy over there. They're testing Test Group Three, all running around looking important. So I've got... well, about ten minutes."

  I went back to my push-ups, ignoring her lazy tone.

  "Ten minutes? Fantastic. Just enough time to wear myself out some more."

  "You're trying so hard, like you're planning to escape with your bare fists."

  "Who knows, maybe I will."

  "Then I need to be ready."

  Sylvie suddenly rolled onto her stomach and got into push-up position.

  "How many are you doing?"

  "Right now? Just hit twenty-five."

  "Okay, easy."

  She started doing push-ups. The first attempt was sloppy—elbows splayed, back arched. The second was slightly better. On the third, she got stuck at the bottom.

  "Shit... this is hard."

  I heard her curse quietly. Her breathing was ragged, but curiosity flickered in her eyes:

  "How... do you even... handle all this?"

  I wanted to joke it off, but suddenly realized she wasn't just asking about push-ups. She was looking at my scarred hands from all the injections.

  "You get used to it."

  Sylvie looked away, as if she didn't like my answer, and whispered barely audibly: "Shame you have to."

  "I thought you were just showing off."

  "I am. But it's also useful."

  "Sure, whatever."

  She sat up, crossing her legs and tossing her hair back. Only then did I notice...

  The robe.

  The fabric hung loose from her shoulders, revealing skin. Nothing scandalous, but enough to make my eyes catch and linger.

  I jerked my gaze away, but it was too late.

  "What?"

  She raised an eyebrow.

  "Nothing."

  "Something was definitely there."

  "Forget it."

  She smirked.

  "You're blushing."

  "No."

  "Yes!"

  She lunged forward suddenly, peering into my face.

  "Oh, you're totally red! Luten, are you actually embarrassed?"

  I gritted my teeth.

  "Sylvie, if you don't shut up right now..."

  She laughed brightly.

  "Ooh, scary! What, gonna hit me?"

  "I'll tell the guards about your visits."

  "I could take the robe off completely if you want. Make it worth your while."

  Sometimes I thought this girl was a walking paradox. She'd say things that made your ears burn, but with such an innocent, almost childlike smile on her face. I sighed and rubbed my nose bridge.

  "Are they seriously not checking your mental state?"

  She smiled contentedly.

  "Of course they check. They just haven't figured out I'm incorrigible yet."

  Sounds started coming from the corridor. Apparently, they'd noticed her missing again. This had become routine for both of us.

  "Alright, Luten, I'm off! Bye-bye!"

  "Good night."

  She left as invisibly as she'd appeared. I still couldn't figure out what kind of magic she used. Sylvie dodged all my questions about it, evading answers every way she could. I had theories, but they'd have to wait.

  When the sirens died down, Karl came into my room. He did this every evening when Sylvie escaped. They clearly saw her on the cameras. Karl always started with questions: had I seen her, what did we talk about? But I didn't want to get her in trouble, and even though I knew they knew, I lied.

  "Her again, huh?"

  Karl perched on the edge of the desk, arms crossed.

  "What did you talk about?"

  "Didn't see her."

  "Lu-u-uten..."

  He dragged out my name, as if savoring the taste of the lie.

  "We both know that's not true."

  I stayed silent. He sighed, tilting his head back.

  "Fine, let's say you want to protect her. That's sweet."

  He looked at me.

  "But you do understand she's just as much a puppet as you are?"

  I tensed.

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "I'm tired of repeating myself. Let's try this."

  He lazily traced his finger along the desk edge.

  "You're being kept here not just because we find you interesting. The thing is, we're studying the mechanism of restoring lost power."

  " So you can use it against people?"

  "Or so people can regain magic. It all depends on who applies this knowledge first."

  I snorted, feeling my lips twist into a crooked smirk.

  "And you're obviously the ones who'll use this knowledge for good."

  Karl leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  "Listen, Luten. I'm not going to feed you illusions about a perfect society and world. There's profit everywhere. With you... With us... One thing you can't accuse me of: we actively help society, when we could just kill everyone."

  He looked me straight in the eye.

  "Do you really think we're the worst option possible?"

  I didn't answer.

  That's exactly what he was counting on.

  "Alright, get ready. The doctors changed the serum formula, we'll try a different approach."

  Before any tests, they collected all my data and sometimes gave injections. They said these compounds should trigger power and magic restoration. After so many attempts, I'd stopped believing.

  Escorted by guards, I walked to a small room where they pointed to a medical chair, like at the dentist. They didn't strap me down this time, though they'd done it a couple times as punishment for resisting.

  "Don't move during the injection and after, for about two minutes."

  One of the doctors approached me, all in white with a mask, so I could only see his eyes. His gaze was deadly serious and sharp. Clearly not a man who joked around.

  "Why?"

  "You see, the concentration of C-130 compound is toxic to the organism if it stagnates too long in one place. We'll run your blood through a special apparatus so you don't die and the compound works properly. It's in your best interest."

  With the first drops of that shit, my chest felt crushed in molten vises. Lungs refused to work, as if filled with liquid lead. Smoke instead of air, pulse thundering in my ears. The world rippled like a broken screen. Then—a blow to the chest, and cold air burst into my lungs. The doctors' voices broke through the fog in my head. I'd survived. Again.

  "He's stable. Ready for testing."

  "Thanks, Michael."

  "Have your own team handle this next time."

  "My department's too dangerous, we're often short-handed, you understand."

  "Yeah, yeah."

  I barely made out this conversation while trying to recover. Guess my body was getting used to all these poisons they kept pumping into me. Before, I'd needed at least a couple hours or even a day.

  They led me out of that room, and ahead I saw the painfully familiar door. Made of cast iron or some other incredibly strong metal. Though it was automatic, it kept breaking from the constant chaos inside. Same thing happened this time.

  They threw me into this pit like a bag of garbage. My body hit cold concrete, palms slipping on the wet floor. The smell of metal and ozone immediately hit my nose—a mixture of blood and electrical discharges hanging in the air.

  "Good luck, and be careful."

  As soon as I heard that, a memory flashed of my first time here:

  No, I didn't die then. But recovery took forever. I waited even longer for our next meeting. When I realized they wouldn't just let me go, I started analyzing. Trying to understand how fights went, how I felt pain, what techniques helped me train better.

  Fortunately or unfortunately—I never met Breacher again. I learned his name later from guards' conversations, gathering information in pieces from Karl too. Turned out he was a hybrid. Some half-assed experiment crossing human with demon. They didn't tell me what he was capable of. From my memories, he was stronger than anyone they'd matched me against.

  After long months of recovery and training, I finally met him again. This time I was ready.

  We stood facing each other in the dark hangar, lit only by flickering lamps. His massive figure cast a long shadow, merging with the surrounding darkness. The red lights in his eye sockets pulsed, as if anticipating the fight.

  Breacher broke the silence first, lunging forward with unexpected speed. His fist cut through air, aiming for my head. I dodged at the last moment, feeling the wind from his strike brush my skin.

  Not giving him time to recover, I countered with a strike to his side, aiming for the gap between metal plates. My fist met resistance, but I felt Breacher stagger slightly.

  "Interesting."

  He growled, spinning and trying to grab my throat. I saw it like in slow motion. My eyes seemed to find every tiny hint in his body's movements on their own, as if someone inside me had activated an ancient mechanism I never knew existed. Everything looked like someone was showing me the future. Of course, I could only guess what he might do based on his muscle movements, gaze, and my own intuition.

  I clearly saw his right foot plant and push off. I instinctively started closing in to get into his blind spot when I noticed his left arm's swing was a feint. I could tell by his gaze, by how unnaturally his upper arm tensed.

  I sprang back while simultaneously kicking at his knee. Metal screeched, and Breacher dropped to one knee.

  "You've gotten faster, but it's not enough."

  His voice was pure contempt: rusty grinding of mechanisms mixed with human hatred.

  At that moment, Karl's voice came through the speakers:

  "Luten, we know what you're capable of. Use your magic."

  I ignored his words, focusing on my opponent.

  Breacher, hearing Karl, smirked:

  "Afraid to show your true power?"

  He lunged forward, his fist aimed at my chest. I dodged, feeling his strike pass by. During all this, I'd noticed a couple spots on his side not covered by as much muscle. I quickly shifted my weight and landed a pair of painful punches.

  "Luten, stop being stubborn. Use magic, we need magic."

  Karl's voice sounded insistent. But I was sick of his commentary, so I just flipped him the middle finger.

  Breacher attacked again, but this time I was ready. Dodging, I landed a powerful blow to the center of his chest. The metal shell cracked, and Breacher crashed to the ground.

  I heard grinding. He was still moving. The red lights flickered, went out, flared again. Only now—weak, discharged. His body no longer obeyed him.

  Breathing hard, I stood over my defeated opponent, feeling blood pulse in my temples.

  "You surprised me, Luten. But we need magic, not hand-to-hand combat."

  Karl's voice sounded cold and detached.

  "Hi, Luten!"

  That female voice... It can't be! My heart skipped a beat.

  "Sylvie?! What the hell are you doing here?!"

  She smirked, shoving her hands in her pockets. She stood a few steps away, rocking on her toes like she didn't know where to start. In her eyes—light amusement, in her hands—a pistol she lazily spun on her finger.

  She wore a gray lab jumpsuit, too thin to warm, too loose to restrict movement. The fabric was worn in places, with traces of someone else's blood on the sleeves. The cuffs were torn, as if she'd ripped off restraints too many times. Around her neck—a metal collar with a dimly glowing indicator.

  "These idiots let me out of the block. All for you."

  "Why? I won't be able to do anything to you. This is pointless!"

  "You really think they arranged this just for fun? They think I'll beat your magic out of you."

  I clenched my fists.

  "I don't have magic. You know that. And they know it too."

  "Yeah, well. But apparently they've got better imagination than you."

  She stepped closer. I didn't move.

  "I won't fight you."

  "I know."

  She leaned against the wall, tilting her head.

  "But they don't know that."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "That I don't give a damn about their plans."

  "You're saying..."

  She smirked.

  "I'm going to kill you."

  I took a step back, not taking my eyes off her.

  "Sylvie, you don't have to do this. You understand this is all—"

  Gunshot.

  Instinct threw me aside a split second before the bullet chipped concrete from the wall behind.

  Sylvie sighed, as if disappointed.

  "Well, at least you're doing something now."

  I clenched my fists, breath ragged.

  "Shit, you're serious? Just shoot me like that?"

  "Why complicate things? They want a show. They want your magic. I'm just ruining their performance."

  I saw her finger move a fraction before she pulled the trigger.

  Dodge to the side.

  Shot.

  Lunge forward.

  The bullet tore through air but missed me. Sylvie laughed, rolling on light steps.

  "Don't want to fight but not eager to die either? Interesting."

  "Shut up."

  The air flared and blurred, like distortion on a broken screen. I realized she wasn't where she'd been a second ago.

  The air still trembled when Karl's muffled voice came through the speakers.

  "Sylvie, enough."

  She stopped, the gun still pointed at me, but her fingers weren't pulling the trigger.

  "Where did you get that?"

  His tone was sharper and colder than usual. Without the familiar sarcasm, without detached interest. Why did he only react to the weapon now?

  "I told you, they let me out. And I took a souvenir. Wanted to check something."

  Karl paused. The air got thick.

  "Put the gun down, Sylvie. Right now."

  Sylvie smirked.

  "You suddenly worried? Interesting."

  "Don't make me ask twice."

  "Too bad. I do enjoy listening to you, Karl. You lie so beautifully."

  She stopped, looking at the camera, then slowly turned her gaze to me.

  "Are you scared, Luten?"

  I didn't answer.

  Karl kept shouting through the loudspeaker:

  "Sylvie, don't do this!"

  She rolled her shoulders as if warming up for something important, but suddenly her gaze slid over me, and for a moment I caught hesitation.

  "Sylvie, why? You could leave!"

  She gave me a reproachful look, as if I'd said something ridiculous.

  "Where to? Nobody's waiting for me outside or here. You're trapped too, just haven't realized it yet."

  I saw her hand tremble when her finger touched the trigger. Her face remained cold, but deep in her eyes flashed a barely noticeable shadow of doubt—less than an instant, but enough to understand: this wasn't easy for her.

  "Sylvie..."

  "Well, now it at least sounds convincing."

  The gun rose.

  All this time I'd been tracking small distortions around her, managing to understand she was about to use her power. I tried to react, but with her other hand she grabbed my shoulder.

  Gunshot. Breath cut short, legs weakened. I collapsed to my knees, vision swimming. Sylvie slowly approached, crouched in front of me, holding the gun in her lowered hand.

  "Sorry. This'll be quick."

  I tried to exhale, but air seemed stuck inside.

  The last thing I saw—her eyes. Black veins spread across the iris, like cracking stained glass.

  "Sleep, Luten."

  And silence covered me like a wave.