Rising god-Chapter 125: Correct & Failure

Guided by the two men guarding the hidden mansion, Ralph and his team learned of "Shacks," a bar and gambling den in the Flameheart Kingdom’s underbelly. Its dimly lit facade, nestled between crooked alleys, buzzed with raucous laughter and the clink of coins. To the Dawnless executives, it felt like home.

At the counter, Donto flashed a wide grin. "Heard today’s meal got sour."

The bartender, a grizzled man with rune-tattooed knuckles, calmly nodded and led them through a back door. An empty barrel concealed a hidden passage, its mechanism eerily similar to the setup at Harper’s Hawks. As the barrel swung open, revealing a narrow tunnel lit by flickering mana orbs, the bartender bowed. "Welcome to the Orion Assembly."

They emerged into a chamber lined with cushioned seats and private compartments, each veiled by shimmering wards. Ralph sat, his executives flanking him, their cloaks blending into the shadows. A male voice sounded from behind a screened partition. "How can I help you today?"

"I want to know what’s happening in this kingdom," Ralph said, his voice low. "Why are there so many royals, and what are they looking for?"

Silence stretched, the air heavy. "Sir, that’s high-level information—"

Ching... ching...

Ralph tossed two pouches of gold across the partition before the voice could finish.

The speaker cleared his throat. "Alright. The Flameheart Kingdom is experimenting on its citizens."

Boom. The words hit Ralph like a shockwave.

It suddenly clicked. Commoners bearing royal traits could only mean one thing: deliberate breeding.

"And what are they after?" Ralph pressed. "Why spread their lineage?"

"They seek to merge their flame and ice powers," the voice replied. "They’ve scattered their bloodline to achieve it."

"Have they succeeded?" Ralph asked. It would be stupid to try something like this; such a reckless plan demanded a result.

"S-Sir, that’s—"

Ching... ching... ching... Three more pouches landed.

"Yes, sir. They’ve seen results, though temporary. But the potential was enough to keep them pushing."

"Earlier, you called it experiments," Ralph said, leaning forward. "Mass breeding isn’t exactly an experiment, is it?" freeweɓnøvel~com

"Yes, several people are born with different traits, and those traits are taken to be used as experiments," the voice admitted. "Which trait works best to combine, and how can they attain those traits?"

"Can you give us some locations of the experiments?"

Ching... ching... ching... ching... ching. Five pouches followed.

"Yes, sir, documents will be prepared and delivered as soon as possible," the voice said. "But in the meantime, do you need anything else?"

"Has this kingdom also kidnapped outsiders for these... experiments?" Ralph’s tone sharpened.

"Yes, sir."

Ralph fell silent, his jaw tight. Bang. He slammed a box of gold onto the table. "Tell me everything."

The speaker hesitated, rattled by the wealth. "People were taken from Solaris, Vodal, even the Free Principalities."

Ralph’s face darkened. "Did they kill them?"

"No, sir. No subject had ever been killed. After a partial combination of powers, they’re released to see how normal life affects their mutations."

Relief flooded Ralph, his shoulders slumping. ’They’re alive.’ That was enough. He exhaled, the weight lifting of his shoulders. The executives also exchanged glances and nodded in relief.

"Thank you," Ralph said, standing.

Bang. Another box of gold hit the table.

He collected the documents and left, the voice calling after him, "Be careful, sir. Visit us again."

....

They returned to the hidden mansion, its vine-covered spires looming under the violet moon. The team gathered in a cavernous hall, its air thick with the scent of old wood and mana.

It was now time to spread out.

"This is our rendezvous point," Ralph said, addressing the group. "If you hit trouble, return here. Rector!"

"Sir!" A bald, middle-aged man stepped forward, his aura steady despite his unassuming frame.

After tethering the blood of dragons to them, what remained on them was assimilation. How much and how fast one could assimilate the dragon’s power determined what they could do.

Maybe it was due to their ranks, but these executives had been able to assimilate 60%, and the fourth person in Dawnless who reached 60% assimilation was Rector. It wasn’t just that, he turned out to be quite intelligent.

"Take command here," Ralph ordered. "Thanks to Wick, long-distance communication is possible, but the devices are limited, so keep messages concise. We’re searching these locations." He unfurled the Orion documents, marking experiment sites.

"Carry the trackers. Anyone who gets a signal report, I’m not sure I still have to explain that your reward won’t stop until you die." He smiled at the excited faces of the men who were working hard. "Move out." He grinned, sparking eager nods from the men.

The documents listed hundreds of sites, many in the mountains. Wick had crafted a hundred trackers, each pulsing with draconic mana. Excluding the sword units and Mistars, three hundred fifty Dawnless members split into teams of three, each assigned a tracker. They dispersed into the night, cloaks blending with the shadows.

Ralph, Wick, and two Dawnless members headed to their first target, a modest mountain, barely taller than a house. Wick’s mana easily sensed a hidden entrance. With a gesture, he activated a rune, and the rockface parted, revealing a dark tunnel. They stepped inside, the air chilling, heavy with a sterile tang.

The tunnel opened into a laboratory, its walls lined with twenty glass tubes—ten on each side. Figures floated inside, suspended in viscous liquid, connected to wires and rune-etched panels. The room was pristine, its surfaces gleaming under cold mana orbs, yet eerily empty.

No guards, no scientists, only the hum of machinery.

"They were right," Ralph murmured, nodding at the Orion’s intel. But the absence of personnel gnawed at him. There was no one present in the room. There wasn’t even a sign of anyone being here previously.

"Sir, are they alive?" a Dawnless member asked, his voice hushed as he peered at a tube.

"I’m not sure." Ralph pressed his palm against a glass surface, its chill biting his skin.

Thud.

The figure inside twitched, its hollow eyes flickering open, forcing Ralph to back away.

Wick raised a hand, runes flaring to shatter the tube.

"Wait," Ralph stopped Wick. If they were alive, he needed answers.

Crack... shatter... shatter.

The tubes fractured in unison, liquid spilling across the floor in a viscous flood. The figures slumped free.

Splat... splat... splat... In rapid succession, fourteen of the twenty dissolved into blood and pulp, their bodies collapsing like failed alchemy.

"The hell..." Ralph staggered back, horror gripping him.

The remaining six rose, their deformed bodies lurching upright. Bulges distorted their heads, backs, and arms, their skin stretched taut. Their eyes—one blue, one red—flashed, but a Dawnless member whispered, "Is it just me, or do they flash purple sometimes?"

Ralph squinted. ’Did they succeed?’ He thought deeply as they studied the figures staring at them.

As the figures stepped forward, their bodies began swelling grotesquely.

"Shit, run!" Ralph shouted.

The group bolted, the tunnel trembling behind them.

BOOOM!

The figures exploded, consuming the laboratory in a roar of flame and ice.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢