Hero? More like a villain-Chapter 52 - 49: Proceed

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. With a strangled gag, she bent over and vomited onto the floor, the acid burning her throat as tears streamed down her face.

The man dragging her snarled in disgust. "Ah, shit! Disgusting brat!!" His voice was like gravel, rough and merciless.

Before Iris could even wipe her mouth, his boot connected with her stomach, sending her sprawling backward into the cold, hard wall. Pain exploded through her body as the air was knocked from her lungs. She gasped, curling into herself, her vision blurring from the agony.

’It hurts...’ Iris sobbed silently, trying to stifle her cries. But the man wasn’t done. He grabbed her by the arm again, yanking her to her feet like she weighed nothing.

"Get up!" he barked, dragging her forward once more, indifferent to her pain.

From the shadows of a dark void, unseen by either of them, Death watched with narrowed eyes, ’Why are you willing to endure all of this, Master?’ Death’s voice was a whisper in the void, heavy with frustration. ’I hate this.’

The man’s cruel laughter echoed down the hallway. "Just hope you don’t fail the experiment, kid," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Or you’ll end up just like those other brats. Hahahaha!"

Iris squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out his words, but they burrowed deep into her mind like poison. ’Mum... Dad... where are you?’ Her thoughts spiraled into panic, her heart aching as fresh tears welled up.

Eventually, they reached another door—this one smaller, darker. The man shoved it open with a creak and threw Iris inside.

"Stay here and wait," he growled, his voice cold and final. Without another glance, he slammed the door shut behind her, the sound of the lock clicking into place reverberating in the pitch-black room.

’’...Outside the Room...’’

"Guard the door. Make sure no one goes in or out," the man barked, his voice echoing down the dim corridor.

"Yes, sir!" the two guards responded in unison, snapping to attention. They stood rigidly on either side of the door, rifles slung across their chests. Their grey military uniforms were crisp and unblemished, the insignia of the ’Saints Organization’ emblazoned across their shoulders in bold, black lettering. Their expressions were cold, devoid of any sympathy for whoever was trapped inside.

Inside the room, Iris curled into herself, her small body trembling as sobs racked her body.

"I want to sleep... I want to wake up and find out this is all just a bad dream," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible. Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking into the cold floor beneath her. "I wanna go home... Mum, Dad, I miss you..."

Her heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, but her grief was suddenly interrupted by the sound of heavy boots approaching from the other side of the door. Muffled voices exchanged brief, sharp words, and then the lock clicked.

The door creaked open, and light flooded the room, blinding Iris for a moment. She squinted through her tears, trying to make out the figure that stepped inside.

A man in a red military uniform entered, the fabric pristine and tailored to perfection. Unlike the other guards, his aura carried authority, and his most dominant feature was the piercing intensity of his dark brown eyes. His gaze swept the room, briefly resting on Iris before flicking to the two guards flanking him.

"Get the girl. It’s about to start," he commanded, his tone flat, devoid of emotion.

Without hesitation, the two escorts moved toward Iris, their grips firm and unyielding as they seized her by the arms.

"No! Stop! Let me go! I didn’t do anything!" Iris screamed, her voice raw with desperation. She kicked and squirmed, but their hold was ironclad. Her strength was nothing compared to theirs—or so she thought.

In the void space, Death watched silently, her eyes narrowing with every passing second. Her arms were crossed, her expression twisted in frustration and anger.

’I have to calm down. I can’t help her...’ Death seethed, her form flickering with restrained rage. ’I want my old master back. If I step in now, she’ll stay with this weak, pathetic version of her forever... and I hate it.’

But even as she told herself to stand down, the sight of Iris being dragged like a helpless doll gnawed at her. The faintest shimmer of regret flickered in Death’s eyes before she forced it away.

Back in the room, the commander paused as his gaze flicked back to Iris. For the briefest moment, a flicker of pity crossed his face—an emotion quickly buried beneath a mask of indifference. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out, his footsteps fading into the distance.

One of the guards wrenched Iris’s arm forward, holding it steady as the other pulled out a syringe filled with a strange, glowing liquid.

"No! Don’t! Please!" Iris shrieked, struggling with renewed vigor, but it was pointless. The needle pierced her skin, the cold liquid burning as it coursed through her veins.

Her vision blurred, her strength fading with each heartbeat. The world spun around her, and a heavy, unnatural drowsiness settled over her like a thick blanket.

’No... no...’ she thought weakly, her eyelids fluttering.

Then everything went black.

"Jeez, I feel sorry for this kid," one of the guards muttered, glancing down at Iris’s limp form as they dragged her through the dim hallway. "She’s pretty... and they’re using her like some lab rat."

The other guard shrugged, his grip tightening on Iris’s arm. "Pretty or not, orders are orders." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

The commander, walking ahead of them, didn’t even bother to look back. "Enough chatter. Just get her to Area B," he snapped.

"Yes, Commander," the guards answered in unison, their voices devoid of any real enthusiasm.

As they continued down the corridor, the two guards exchanged weary glances. "Man, after this, we need a break," one sighed.

"Yeah, I’m sick of this shit," the other muttered under his breath.

Eventually, they reached a massive metal door, reinforced with thick steel beams. It groaned open automatically, revealing a sterile, brightly lit room that reeked of disinfectant and something metallic—like old blood.

They carried Iris inside and laid her onto a cold metal table, her limbs still bound tightly with thick leather straps. The door hissed shut behind them.

As Iris began to wakeup, the first thing she noticed was the sharp, biting pain in her wrists and ankles from the restraints. Her vision was blurry, and every breath felt heavy, as if the air itself was pressing down on her. Shapes moved beyond the haze, voices murmuring in the distance.

"Sir, everything is set," a scientist’s voice echoed from somewhere nearby. Iris tried to turn her head, but her neck felt stiff, her body unresponsive.

Not even realizing those in charge were behind a glass screen—watching her like she was some kind of specimen.