Chapter 165' Twists Of Fate!

Chapter 165: Twists Of Fate!

Agent Selar raised his hand to strike Heziah again, but Rhemon's casual gesture froze him mid-motion. The cold smile playing on Rhemon's lips grew wider as he leaned back in his towering obsidian throne, fingers steepled in contemplation.

"So, he truly has no connection to Tessa... Excellent. That makes him pliable." The thought curled like smoke in Rhemon's mind, his amusement deepening.

"I like you," Rhemon declared, his voice smooth but laced with authority. He turned his gaze to Selar, who stood rigid with confusion. "Promote him to Level 3. Make him your assistant. Provide him with every resource he requires—and double his salary."

Selar's face contorted in shock. "Lord Rhemon, with respect, this man failed the Synchronization Program. Only those with abilities can ascend to Level 3 or higher. He—he's unfit for such a role."

Rhemon's eyes narrowed, his smirk unyielding. "I am the architect of those rules, Selar. This boy may lack abilities, but he possesses something far rarer among my ranks: confidence. That alone makes him valuable." His tone left no room for dissent.

"But, my Lord, he hates you and probably plans to kill you," Selar interjected, desperate to make Rhemon reconsider.

Rhemon's amusement vanished in an instant, replaced by a chilling intensity. His voice dropped an octave. "Are you questioning my judgment, Selar?" The room seemed to darken as he rose slightly from his seat, his presence oppressive.

"My Lord, I—" Selar stammered, realizing too late the danger of his words.

Rhemon waved a hand dismissively. "Normally, such insolence would warrant death. But today, I'm feeling merciful." His lips curled into a predatory smile. "Turn around."

Selar paled but obeyed, his back straight and his fists clenched. Without warning, a whip of pure flame materialized in Rhemon's hand, its searing heat causing the air to shimmer. With a flick of his wrist, the whip cracked against Selar's back, tearing through fabric and flesh alike. Selar gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out as blood seeped through the shredded remains of his uniform.

"Now, go," Rhemon commanded, his voice like a death knell.

Selar and Heziah bowed deeply before exiting the chamber. As they walked down the dimly lit corridor, Selar's silence was heavy with suppressed fury. Beside him, Heziah Eric was practically glowing with smug satisfaction.

"What are you smiling about?" Selar growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Heziah chuckled. "Oh, nothing. Just marveling at your misfortune. Imagine, the so-called cannon fodder—" he gestured dramatically to himself "—now elevated to your rank. Life has a twisted sense of humor, doesn't it?"

Selar's hands trembled as jagged icicles began to form in his palms, their sharp edges glinting in the corridor's dim light. Heziah noticed but remained unfazed, his smirk unwavering.

"If you wish to defy Lord Rhemon again, by all means, attack me," Heziah taunted, his tone almost lazy. "I'm sure he'll be far less forgiving this time."

The words hit their mark. Selar's rage faltered, his breath hitching as he envisioned Rhemon's wrath. Slowly, the icicles in his hands melted, water dripping to the floor as he clenched his fists in frustration.

He turned sharply, his boots echoing down the corridor as he stormed ahead. "Enjoy your hollow victory while it lasts," he muttered under his breath.

Heziah, trailing behind, grinned wider. "Oh, I will. Every second of it."

———

"The Shadow of Kaelrian Flames"

In a brightly lit chamber within the main building of Reek Manor, a stark contrast to the grand extension where Rhemon's obsidian throne loomed, Adrian lay motionless inside a pod-like container. The cylindrical vessel, crafted from sleek metal and reinforced glass, displayed his calm, unconscious form. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, seemingly at peace, but the room around him buzzed with tense energy.

Flanking Adrian were twenty other pods, each housing a man who had barely survived the brutal synchronization process. They were linked by intricate tubes and glowing conduits that pulsed with Kaelrian flame energy—Adrian's energy. The men's faces, once distinct, now bore unsettling similarities to Adrian's angular features. Their eyes, faintly glowing blue, mirrored the unmistakable traits of Kaelrians.

Clusters of doctors filled the room, their pristine white coats stark against the sterile, metallic environment. They whispered among themselves, their voices tinged with both awe and fear.

"This..." one doctor muttered, peering closely at a monitor displaying vitals for all twenty test subjects. "Their features are transforming. They're starting to look... exactly like Adrian."

Another doctor stepped forward, his face pale as he examined the subjects more closely. "This is beyond science. What kind of sorcery is at play here?"

"This could lead to unforeseen complications," a third doctor interjected, his voice tight with concern. "If they share Adrian's abilities and, worse, his will, we could be dealing with a group entirely loyal to him."

A ripple of unease swept through the room. One doctor, his hands shaking slightly, ran a hand through his hair. "If this fails… Lord Rhemon will have our heads. Literally."

"Or worse," another chimed in, his tone panicky. "He'll turn us into his next batch of experiments. Marching meat for the grinder."

The growing tension was palpable, except for one figure leaning lazily against a console. Dr. Veron, a man known for his unbothered demeanor, yawned theatrically. "You're all jumping at shadows," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The solution is simple: brainwash Adrian. Once he's under control, so are they. Problem solved."

Several doctors shot him incredulous looks, but a few nodded hesitantly, his words offering a sliver of comfort.

Dr. Norris, the lead physician, finally spoke, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Enough. We will initiate the brainwashing protocol as a contingency. However, we must first assess the test subjects for any immediate anomalies. If complications arise, we'll adjust our strategy accordingly."

His authoritative tone silenced the room. The doctors exchanged wary glances but ultimately deferred to his leadership. One by one, they returned to their stations, monitoring the glowing data streams and scrutinizing every detail of the synchronization process.

As the room settled into a tense silence, Veron smirked to himself. "Overly dramatic fools," he muttered under his breath, watching as the countdown for Adrian's evaluation ticked closer to zero.