Aaron swallowed, drawing curious glances from the three people who were actually present. I can't recall how much blood I have on my hands. He ground his teeth.

The weight of unnamed faces settled in his gut. It spilled out in words before he could stop himself. "Just because I have killed and hurt others doesn't mean I will enjoy it—"Aaron inhaled sharply after his outburst. Fuck.

Everyone—especially Grandfather—was looking around the room. Aaron took a steadying breath. The damage is done. Just press on and make them glance over this. "I believe Blinding Thunder and Control Body are spells I would learn more about."

Grandfather spoke up, more loudly than necessary. "A wise choice. I will have manuals of the most common spells of your potential disciplines made available for your squad to study."

Aaron avoided the suspicious eyes of the Master Rhetorician. The image's silence let a new wave of anger—not just annoyance, anger, the kind he'd seen when the Mindmage had buried his body over a whole day—crash over him. He let go of it.

Aaron offered a curt nod, voice firm with forced professionalism. "Magister, I believe you wanted to show me something."

He began walking as he inclined his head. "Thank you for your generous gift and advice. Well, we'll see each other soon."

He scrambled past Grandfather and Grandmaster, the quick steps of the slight Magister Charos following in his wake. Only when he had turned a corner did he start breathing again. I'm finally out of there. Holy shit.

He took the few heartbeats before the Magister followed around the corner to center himself. As he opened his eyes, he stared straight into the ghastly mouth of the image's projection. Aaron yelped and scrambled back—straight into the Magister. Both of them barely managed to catch themselves. Aaron steadied the confused man.

"What is the matter?" he asked anxiously. Yeah, he's sacrificing his career to gain the favor of someone who acts as if he's imagining people. But trust me, doctor—the people are really there.

He glared at the low-quality lighting projection of his mentor and subject. "I'm sorry, I… must have eaten something that disagreed with my stomach."

He cringed inside. Pathetic.

Then the Mindmage's laughter was again sounded without sound. 'That is the most pathetic attempt at subterfuge I have ever witnessed. Do gather yourself, student.'

Aaron took a deep breath and pointedly ignored the aberration as the Magister led him into the catacombs. Aaron noticed the furtive glances the man threw over his shoulder, and the Mindmage's snickering at every single one of them failed to help his mood.

'Are you trying to be annoying on purpose?'

'No, but this ritual costs a lot, so I want to use it to its full potential,' the man responded smugly in his head.

'Can't you drift off and spy on some girls in the showers or something?' Aaron shot back.

'Firstly, this ritual is bound to you, so I would need you to get close to said showering girls. Secondly, a proper Cognimancer never wants for any partner they desire.'

Aaron could only swallow as he heard the matter-of-fact statement.

The last flickers of the Mindmage's projection faded into static, leaving only the echo of his laughter. Shadows crept in around Aaron as the ancient walls closed in. Aaron tried to talk with it, but only got something that sounded like radio static. He looked at the man walking beside him—the Magister who was leading him towards a secret laboratory.

The floor sloped into rough stone—untouched by builders. The corridor turned wild and wrong. Aaron slowed. "Part of the old dungeon. Before the genius loci was tamed, this place would have teemed with monsters."

Aaron looked around. The darkness seemed to close in on him. And had that been a sound? Focus, this is just an old tunnel, he chided himself. "So does the Spirit still have power down here?"

The Magister turned to Aaron, letting the shadow dance ominously with the movements. "Pella used to be focused on the mesa. Nowadays, its domain is on the surface—ensuring health, prosperity, and safety. These catacombs were abandoned 3,000 years ago. The mesa was known as the White Volcano before the founders tamed it."

A shudder went down Aaron's spine. Am I being observed right now?

"Do all cities have a genius loci?"

"All that matter. Taming a dungeon core is hard work, especially if it is powerful. Some say that the mesa used to be a cone, and the founders used a relic weapon to destroy its upper parts."

Aaron recalled the gigantic plateau, almost an hour's walk across. Have the founders nuked the genius loci into submission? Nuclear terraforming was an idea on Earth, after all.

"Do relics like that still exist?" Aaron asked with trepidation. The habitat had been turned into a wasteland in his vision. What if I'm here to prevent a nuclear war?

"No faction I know of has access to Ghost-, Star-, or Brightfire nukes. All the founding flames of the original Poli were kindled from embers of the flames that purged the landing zones with Ghostfire."

Aaron pressed his lips together. This civilization colonized occupied land by nuking the natives. And they worship the memory of that event. He suppressed a shudder. Many nations in my time have worshiped mass murderers as heroic figures.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

He refocused on the issue at hand as they descended into a large cave. The light reached neither ceiling nor walls. Their footsteps were accompanied by the distant plinks of falling waterdrops.

The Magister coughed and shifted about while Aaron thought. "You will of course encounter enemies in the training dungeons. In fact, dungeon cores enhancing status points are how I seek to break the system's limits. You will see."

They were pacing a sheer wall. Charos pressed his hands against it, then retracted them. Aaron saw multiple small drops of blood welling up.

"Bloodbound gate. Only I can open it." Next, he pressed a small cube into an unassuming indent. Two-factor authentication. Glad to see the locals understand how actual security works.

They passed the gates into a dark corridor. Aaron looked back as the stone slabs ground shut. The gate sealed itself with the sound of a crypt door. For a moment, Aaron couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't a door—it was a verdict. The inside has the same kind of locking mechanism.

The Magister grabbed a torch, and walking down the corridor, ignited mirrored oil lamps. Guess secret research facilities don't get the fancy LEDs. This is much more appropriate. And unlike a torch, those lamps produce more light than smoke.

Then Aaron heard something down the corridor. He tensed as he walked behind the Magister with his lighter stick. A mage carrying fire into the darkness. How thematic.

Suddenly, he heard a screech. It sounded disturbingly human. Aaron's blood froze. Does he… I am walking into a secret research facility with a guy who might be experimenting on people. What the hell am I doing?

The Magus shook his head apologetically. "The chimpanzees seem irritated today."

Aaron let out a sigh of relief—too early. There could still be another wing for human experiments. Or maybe I'm the experiment.

He gulped and touched the hilt of his knife. It felt rough and encouraging. They entered a hall filled with bamboo cages holding half a dozen unhealthy-looking monkeys, which cringed away from the light. I guess animal welfare isn't a thing here? Why do we always do this kind of cruel bullshit?

The Magister had suggested Aaron do some reading while he set up a demonstration. Aaron sat, but the silence didn't comfort him. Even before the screams began, he felt something was deeply wrong. Aaron's gaze followed the Magister disappearing into another side room, which looked like an alchemy laboratory. It even included various animals preserved in glass jars. At least those aren't humans.

Time fell away as Aaron became engrossed in his book on the Confusion cantrip. Apparently, it used a signal that the brain accepted as relevant enough to occupy one or more slots in short-term memory—but that actually held no content. Cantrips were crafted objects that a mage kept in the dreamgarden and could access at will. A physical representation was often helpful. The author recommended using a coin and flipping it at someone.

"Champion, the presentation is ready." The Magister's voice interrupted Aaron's learning. Aaron entered the room with the cages and noticed the magical formation that had been covered in cloth at the end of the room. It looked like a summoning circle made of electric circuits.

The chimpanzee sat in the middle, held by ropes securing its torso and limbs to three surrounding pillars. Aaron shuddered as he studied the creature's all-too-human face. The Magister smiled proudly. "I will now perform the final parts of the procedure."

He stepped forward with a table containing several infusion bags and amulets. Using a pail, he let the ape swallow four different substances. The last one came from a container that held several liters. The animal jolted in pain and curled around its stomach.

Noticing Aaron's sour face, Charos explained. "This is the bacterial injection. I am revamping the gut microbiome and adapting the beast's immune system so it works more like a symbiont than something intrinsic to the body."

Then he hung several infusion bags with large and brutal needles onto hooks over the monkey. He squirted some of the liquid out of each of the syringes before injecting the chimp. It gave a pitiful yowl at each stab.

Aaron's stomach had turned a while ago. And that fucker was whistling. Hurt animals like this, and people follow. That's how it starts. Sick. But… better this than using slaves.

The Magister brought out two chairs and a bottle of wine. Motioning for Aaron to get two glasses, he sat down in front of the circle. Aaron nearly crushed the elegant glasses as he walked by the cage full of whining chimpanzees. He only sipped once, out of politeness.

'Quetzy, I am sick.'

The dragon-squirrel's warmth began radiating into his torso. 'NeverSawThisAtHome?'

Aaron pressed his lips together. 'I knew those things were happening, but it was always so abstract. This feels so impersonal. I think the sterility of the cruelty is what's getting to me.'

Aaron felt Quetzy's awareness as he fell into a light meditation. He focused on a point before the animal. Just breathe in and out. 'Or is this wrong? Should I witness this? Am I disrespecting the sacrifice by not paying attention out of disgust? Just keep breathing and focus.'

He shuddered despite it all. I would have no problem killing the monkey—but watching how it suffers while sipping wine…

He looked over to the Magister, who was attentively taking notes, scientist through and through. After what felt like too much time, the monkey slumped, hanging limp by the ropes. Aaron noticed that its fur had begun to steam. Examining the animal more closely, he could make out trails of blood running from its orifices.

The Magister clicked his tongue. "This is an improvement on the metabolic overload problem, but I do not think it will survive very long."

He looked at Aaron's blank face and raised his glass. "Now, the truly interesting part begins. That formation contains a damaged dungeon core," the Magister said. The genius loci—or rather, the spiritual residue of what it once was—will attempt to infuse the animal. They do this in the wild, creating abominations. We replicate that here." He nodded with a smug smile. "I had to transplant a receiver core to do this."

He looked expectantly at Aaron, who made an agreeable noise to break the awkwardness. Slightly flustered, the man continued. "That wasn't easy, but the procedure is safely verified to work on humans."

Aaron's jaw tightened. So he does experiment on humans. Or are those just medical procedures? Fuck this. The Magister adjusted several glowing cages at the edge of the formation, circling it slowly. Then he walked back to Aaron's side. The chimpanzee had begun to cough up a red mist. Can I order him to stop?

Bright light traced the formation, running inward toward the monkey. Something other than the animal moaned in deep pain. The light brightened the entire room, and Aaron had to look away.

When he looked back, he saw the corpse of the ape in a pool of its own blood. Well, that was the most elaborate and unnecessary killing I have ever seen.

The chimpanzee twitched. Both mages could hear the animal's labored breathing quickening as the twitches sped up. A citrus smell wafted out from the formation—like a cleansing solution from home.

The corpse shifted. First a twitch—then, with a sickening lurch, it pushed itself to its knees. Its chest was soaked in blood. The skin tore around swollen muscle—like something had outgrown its shell.

Aaron shuddered.

Then the beast let out a gurgling roar and yanked with both hands and the full force of its legs forward. Aaron flinched back but remained standing. The Magister stumbled over the chair, crashing to the ground with a sharp, high-pitched yelp.

The chimpanzee yanked again. And again.

Then the first rope snapped.

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