The torture chamber.
Well, not necessarily. That was just what the people who entered called it. Officially, it was an interrogation room—used for questioning suspects guilty of the worst crimes. And while it was mostly meant for humans, that didn't mean other things couldn't be kept there too.
Screams filled the room, forcing their way past the supposedly soundproof doors and into the hallway, where Sabrina sat with a newspaper in hand, flipping through the pages as Cillian earned his pay.
Capital punishment had been abolished decades ago. Even in this fractured world of havens, they had kept it gone. There was no point in barbaric methods—not officially, anyway. But interrogational torture for scum like this barely skirted the line of legality.
Another scream rang out.
Sabrina turned the page.
Cillian might have been part of Vladimir's team, but he hadn't been hired to fight myutants. Not even close. The "Inquisitor" was born beyond the depths, his family having served for generations as torturers and executioners for high-profile figures.
His father had taught him everything, just like his father did.
Sabrina had wanted to pull him away from that life. She had tried. But despite being only sixteen, the boy functioned without remorse or fear.
When she told him he didn't have to do this anymore, he had simply begged to continue. Not out of enjoyment—perhaps out of dependency. It was all he knew.
It saddened her. But there wasn't much else she could do.
Sabrina pressed a hand to her earpiece as an incoming call came through. Vladimir spoke first.
"Mission complete. Found the president—lost a few toes and probably traumatized for life, but he's safe."
"Good enough," Sabrina sighed. "How was the mission?"
Vladimir hesitated. Normally, this was where she hung up. If she was asking for details, it meant she wanted something else.
"What's up?" he asked.
Sabrina exhaled. Only a select few of her staff could read her this well. Vladimir was one of them.
"There's a new job—an escort through the depths in two days."
"And there aren't any teams fit enough to go," Vladimir guessed, sighing. "I'd love to help, but we're not exactly in the best condition either. Massiah's kid triggered the spider, so Theresa got hurt. She can't fight, and you know what that means."
"You can't either," Sabrina said. "And I'm using Cillian on another job."
"Yeah."
"Fine. I'll find someone else."
"If you do, maybe send the recruits as backup. That is, if you're up for it," Vladimir suggested. "Ansel isn't in too bad a shape."
"I'll think about it," Sabrina said, lowering her hand. The call disconnected.
Sending grade fours on an escort mission wasn't unusual. Most of the time, they weren't there to fight myutants—just to make sure they didn't get too close to the cargo. As long as they could drive them off, that was enough.
But this was different.
The Jackal escort mission was riskier than most. Haj wasn't asking for protection from myutants—he was certain Hallian would try to reclaim their man, breaking the deal before it even began.
And Hallian had hitmen—dangerous enough to make her worry.
Sabrina exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "It's too risky." Anything could happen. Even if guns were rare, they still existed.
She leaned back against the cold wall, staring at the ceiling. "Why do so many havens have so many damn problems?"
"He talked," Cillian muttered.
Sabrina jolted slightly, glancing toward him. The young inquisitor stood in the doorway, his coat drenched in red, gloved hands slick with blood.
"Oh," she said, standing. "I'll be right there."
Cillian turned back into the room. Sabrina followed.
The stench hit first—iron and sweat. Diamantis was slumped in the chair, breaths shallow. Blood streaked the walls, pooling beneath discarded fingernails and toenails.
Cillian was brutal.
Normally, she wouldn't have let him go this far.
But this time?
She didn't care.
Her gaze flicked to the floor. She frowned. Twenty-four sets of nails. That didn't make sense.
"What happened?" she asked, pointing.
Cillian yawned, rubbing at his eye. "I finally get why he didn't die in Raval," he said, turning to Diamantis. "He's not human."
Well, any human would have passed out by now.
But still—this was new.
"The doctors ran tests," she said carefully. "No mutations. No signs of genetic alteration."
"They probably wouldn't have found it," Cillian said. "He regenerates faster than a normal human—not on par with a T-level one myutant, but way faster than the average person. Maybe... forty minutes, give or take."
That explained a few things. But not enough.
Sabrina stepped forward, watching Diamantis as he gasped for air, blood dribbling from his lips.
She tilted her head.
"Are you ready to talk now?"
Diamantis coughed, a wet, ragged sound, spitting blood onto the already stained floor. His fingers twitched weakly, or what was left of them.
"You know," he muttered, voice hoarse, "I'm starting to think... you don't actually like me."
Sabrina didn't answer. She just watched him, arms crossed.
"Are you ready to talk now?" she asked again.
Diamantis let out something that might've been a laugh—or a choked gasp of pain.
"Talk about what, exactly?" His head lolled to the side, eyes half-lidded. "How I destroyed a haven? Or how I—what was it—controlled a human myutant? Now that's an interesting one."
"You are interesting," Sabrina admitted. "Most people would've passed out hours ago. Cillian thinks you're not human."
"Yeah, well..." Diamantis chuckled weakly. "That kid's a real genius, huh?"
Sabrina didn't flinch as Cillian stepped forward, boots squelching in the blood-soaked floor. The young inquisitor wasn't smiling anymore. His usual detached amusement was gone—his expression serious now.
"Tell her what you told me," Cillian uttered.
Diamantis shifted, wincing as his fingers spasmed uselessly. Then, after a moment, he sighed.
"You're looking at it wrong, boss lady," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't control the myutant. I just... reminded it what it was."
Sabrina's brow furrowed. "What it was?"
Diamantis lifted his head, eyes meeting hers. Even in his state—pale, broken, trembling—there was something in his gaze that sent a chill down her spine.
"A perfect creature," Diamantis murmured, his voice low but steady. "A perfect creature being hunted, persecuted by a lesser kind—it's quite funny, really."
Sabrina narrowed her eyes. He was careful with his words, always offering just enough to hint at something, never enough to give her a real answer.
But now, she had a new piece of the puzzle.
Diamantis was a myutant, or at least was closer to one.
"You believe myutants are the superior species?" she asked, studying him.
Diamantis smirked. "Now, now—I won't tell."
His head snapped back, a sharp gasp escaping him as Cillian pressed pliers against his freshly regrown fingernail. His breath hitched, his eyes flicking toward the young inquisitor.
"And I'm the villain here," he rasped.
"Sir, I'd suggest you look away," Cillian muttered, tightening his grip on the tool.
Sabrina didn't blink. "No. Do it."
"Understood."
A harrowing scream tore through the room.
Diamantis convulsed against his restraints, veins bulging as his teeth clenched hard enough to crack. The pain burned—then ebbed, leaving only his laughter-laced breaths behind.
"How did you create the myutant?" Sabrina asked, her tone flat.
Cillian stepped back, blood pooling at his feet. Diamantis slumped forward, his body trembling.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't think they would take too kindly to me revealing that information."
Sabrina's gaze sharpened. They.
She latched onto the word, pressing forward. "Who is 'they'? Who are you referring to?"
"The strongest beings on the planet—perfect creatures with nowhere left to evolve," Diamantis declared, his eyes now fixed on the beam of light overhead. "They are the true owners of this world."
It was useless. He had nothing more to say.
Cillian stepped forward, his arms reaching for the briefcase perched above the desk.
Sabrina extended her hand. "Take a break. We can continue this later."
Cillian merely glanced at her before moving toward the door, leaving a trail of bloodstains along the corridors.
"He's going to come back soon, and he'll do it again," Sabrina said, her voice low. "You might get tired, but he won't—you understand this by now, don't you?"
Diamantis's voice dropped even lower. "Would you trade eternal glory for momentary relief? Would you exchange diamond for gold?"
"You're not making any sense," Sabrina shot back.
Diamantis laughed bitterly. "You just can't see the full picture. You keep looking, expecting the picture to be folded, but it isn't. You simply don't understand."
"Understand what?" she pressed.
He laughed again, spitting a clump of blood against the wall before grinning. "I'm not telling."
"This is going nowhere."
Sabrina stood, casting Diamantis one last glance before turning away. "You might think you're holding your own, but trust me—" she walked toward the door, hand resting on the handle.
"We don't know anything yet. And as long as that's the case—" she pulled it open. "We'll keep going until we do."
The door shut behind her.
She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. She had to act tough in front of Diamantis, but the truth was, they needed answers fast. If more human myutants like the one in Raval were created, there would be nothing they could do to stop them.
"Sabrina?"
A soft voice broke through her thoughts—light, distant.
She glanced down, her gaze landing on a small figure draped in an oversized company overcoat.
"Elendira!" Sabrina muttered, her hand resting on the young exterminator's shoulder.
Elendira stood barely five-foot-six with shoes on, just a little taller than Massiah. She looked up at Sabrina with her usual smile. "I finished the mission in the depths," she said. "I called a lot, but you weren't responding."
That was right—Elendira had been one of the many exterminators sent beyond the depths. The wide-range transmission must not have reached her.
"I'm sorry," Sabrina said, crouching to meet her at eye level.
Elendira was the youngest exterminator in their ranks by a large margin. At just fourteen, she wouldn't have even been considered for a position like this under normal circumstances. But she was different.
She was the daughter of Ciaran Frankfurt, the former CEO of Dead End Solutions. Born in the depths, she had developed a mutation—her bone density was higher than normal. Despite her small stature, she hit with the force of a truck.
"Are you tired?" Sabrina asked.
Elendira shook her head. "No. I got plenty of rest after my last mission."
Sabrina considered it for a moment before deciding. "I need your help with another mission beyond the depths. An escort job—mostly humans, not many myutants. Are you up for it?"
"Are you asking?" Elendira tilted her head. "If so, then yes."
Sabrina nodded. Elendira might have been young, but she was more than capable. Far more than most.
"You'll be accompanied by two new recruits," she added. "Do your best to coach them through it."
Elendira frowned, crossing her arms. "I don't like working with other people."
"Do it for me, just this once, Ellie," Sabrina said, her voice softer.
A lightbulb to their side flickered, light pulsing as the low hum of static filled the room.
"Alright." Elendira turned, already walking away. "Just call me when it's time, I'll take care of it in a breeze."
"Will do," Sabrina said, watching her disappear past the door.
To any bystander, she was just a little girl with a blood-red sword strapped to her back.
Almost no one would believe that the child with a smile that could light up a room—
Was Grade One.