Forged in Endless Agony

"Ah······ Ah······ Ah······."

"Kya aaaaaak!!"

The silent breeding pens, filled only with intermittent, inorganic groans devoid of life, regained their vigor once more with the agonized scream of a newly captured subject.

Thick iron bars divided into cages. Inside them hung异種族—異種族—with grotesquely swollen bellies, pierced through by iron chains and suspended in midair. Ominous energy flowing from the magic circles etched into the floor and walls invaded their skin, relentlessly tormenting their nervous systems.

Cursed flames that slowly burned their flesh and wore down the deepest recesses of their souls.

"Guhk, kehuk······."

Most subjects were already mentally shattered. They merely writhed faintly amid unbearable pain.

Beyond the rows of iron cages filling the vast underground cavern, researchers in white coats moved through the corridors with impassive expressions, checking charts. To them, this place was no hell—it was merely an efficient factory.

At the center of the laboratory, the man seated before the largest altar moved his ballpoint pen. The scratching sound pierced through the screams.

The man writing the log paused his pen momentarily to admire the scene before him.

On the altar inscribed with magic circles lay a sub-species whose limbs—save for the swollen abdomen—had been entirely dismantled, barely clinging to life. Its faceless head, devoid of all function, gaped as a dark void toward the ceiling, its empty gaze utterly hollow.

"Hm······ Once the mother's mind dies, the pain inflicted on her holds no further meaning for the egg-demon ritual."

Realizing further torture was pointless, the man muttered dryly and rose from his seat. He picked up a scalpel and lightly pressed the swollen mound of the sub-species.

The taut skin peeled away like ripe fruit flesh, spilling dark red blood. His hands moved without hesitation. With ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the boredom of repetition, the persimmon's rind split, revealing fragile seeds—and the newborn whelp drew its first breath of the world, unleashing a shrill wail.

"Kyaaaaaang-!"

A cry close to a curse upon its own birth. The whelp's skin, which should have matched its mother's hue, had shed its original green, marred by bulging, hideous dark blue veins that lent it a blackened sheen.

Having shared the mother's horrific ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠torment from within the womb, the whelp's face was not that of a fresh life but twisted like a vengeful demon filled with resentment.

The man lifted the whelp indifferently and tossed it into the adjacent tank filled with corrosive chemicals bubbling black foam.

Sizzle······

"Waaaaaah!!!"

As its form melted away, the screams grew even more desperate. Watching, the man extended his hand into the air and cast a recovery spell.

"You can't die yet. Not quite."

As the chemicals dissolved its fragile flesh, the ability forcibly reversed it. Destruction and regeneration in endless cycles. When the pain's intensity reached its limit, power began emanating from the whelp's soul, dyeing it a thick black.

At the moment the resentment had ripened to his satisfaction, the man withdrew the recovery. A final death rattle erupted from the tank, and soon the blackened soul essence was sucked into the crystal at the altar's center amid the screams.

The already murky crystal took on an ominous glow, darkening further.

As the man finished the log, an assistant researcher in glasses approached and bowed.

"Director, the military has requested adjustments to the subject roster. Seems supply issues due to heavy frontline losses."

"Can't be helped. Abandon species purity. For now, prioritize numbers—tell them to match the quota as best as possible."

"Understood. Also, Isaac has been complaining of hunger since morning."

The man's eyebrow twitched faintly. He checked the calendar on his desk.

"Hm, is that so? Hey, what's the soul stone charge level now?"

"98% currently. Nearly complete."

"Not much longer, then. Good timing—I've been meaning to check his status anyway. I'll deliver it personally."

The central crystal fully blackened, and a signal appeared on the monitor. The man donned his white coat from the chair and carefully placed the completed soul stone in its dedicated case.

Leaving the underground cavern thick with the stench of blood and screams, he ascended dim stairs lit by faint luminous stones, the noise gradually fading.

At the end of the underground temple, the heavy iron door of the heavily guarded restricted zone opened, revealing a blindingly bright white corridor under fluorescent lights.

His shoes echoed rhythmically on the modern marble floor. It was hard to believe this neat, composed figure had just stood behind blood-spattered dissection tables.

He slowly headed toward another restricted zone in the deepest lab at the corridor's end.

"Has the Director arrived?"

"Isaac?"

"Currently undergoing trait adjustment."

A rectangular massive pool at the center, enclosed by thick glass walls—an isolation chamber. A boy floated atop the black waves filling the pool, listlessly passing time amid the swirling currents.

His eyes were completely glazed over from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the pain of millions ravaging his body and the ecstasy of unity.

The man entered the observation room with a clear view of the isolated boy and switched on the mic.

"Isaac."

At the voice calling him over the speakers, light flickered back into the boy's dead eyes.

"Hello, Director."

Unlike his drugged-out appearance, the boy's voice sounded surprisingly steady.

"Yeah, throwing a tantrum about being hungry since morning? You got all the meals you wanted. Can't be whining already after just absorbing a soul stone."

At the man's words, the boy scratched his cheek sheepishly.

"Must be the growth spurt. Still hungry now, hungry. Soooo hungry, but I can't just eat my big bro or sis, right?"

The maddening hunger from soul deficiency was endured because devouring those ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around him would be like eating a single popcorn—meaningless absorption. It'd only worsen the queen ant's famine from losing a worker.

The researchers here were family-like to him, but only while reason held.

"Guess I'll just sleep it off. Can't hold out much longer."

"Sigh······."

The man sighed at the boy sinking deeper into the waves and asked the nearby researcher.

"How long since adjustment started?"

"About six hours now."

The man leaned into the mic.

"Isaac, I'll give you the soul stone—pause and come out."

"Oh, right now?"

Moments later, the black waves pushed the boy's body out of the pool. Dripping viscous slime from head to toe in his naked state, he headed to the entrance. The isolation door opened, and waiting personnel hurriedly decontaminated him.

A drug that would melt a normal human's brain into a rutting beast on contact—agents were thoroughly protected in hazmat suits.

"Here, take it."

"Thank you."

The boy took the case, unlocked it deftly, and pulled out the soul stone. He dropped it straight to the floor, where it vanished into his shadow.

"Phew, now I can live."

His face lit up like a flashlight with fresh batteries.

"Since you're out, eat up and take a break."

As the successful product of the Isaac Project, the boy had some freedom of movement in the lab. Trust built from bonding and obedience to researchers.

The Director bore responsibility for managing him.

"So, what're you doing now?"

"Homework. Sis Minji gave it to me. Says anyone without a high school diploma ain't human—gotta study."

The man fell silent at the boy's words, then spoke.

"Isaac, do you want to go to school?"

Pondering with pencil down, the boy's face showed a why bother? expression.

"Hmm...... Nah. Probably boring if I actually went. But kinda curious anyway."