In the moss-scented dimness of the dungeon, the sound of dripping water echoed from the damp stone walls. The air was saturated with the stench of mold and rust. Spider webs hung from the ceiling, untouched for years. The floor was slick, coated in moss in some areas.
Fauriel knelt on the cold stone ground. His clothes were in tatters, his hair drenched in sweat. His eyes, wide with fear, were cast down before Ravien. His entire body trembled.
Ravien stepped forward. There wasn't a trace of mercy in his gaze.
"Let's begin. This will take a while. Best to start early."
Fauriel lifted his head with one last shred of hope. His eyes were filled with tears, and words clogged his throat.
"Pl—"
Ravien didn't let him finish. He raised his right foot and stomped down with full force on Fauriel's head. His face smashed into the stone floor. A loud, sickening crack echoed from his nose.
"Aghhh!"
Blood filled Fauriel's mouth instantly. The broken nose poured crimson down his chin and onto the ground. He coughed, choking on the blood pooling in his throat. The gurgling sound mixed with his pained groans, now reduced to a suffocating whimper.
"Lab rats don't talk, Fauriel. So shut up. I don't want to hear another sound from you."
After saying this, Ravien stepped back and crouched beside him. He reached silently for Fauriel's left arm.
"Our first experiment: Tissue deformation. First time trying it on a human. Let's see how it goes."
Fauriel's arm suddenly spasmed. His eyes widened—he knew something was terribly wrong. A shiver ran along his veins, as though worms had burrowed under his skin. His blood vessels bulged, turned dark and purple, mapping grotesque lines across his flesh.
"Khhh… ghh..."
He tried to cough up the blood in his throat, but his voice failed. Blood leaked from the corners of his mouth, trailing down his chin.
His skin abruptly collapsed inward. Muscles unraveled, tissues tore apart, and a thick, mucous-like fluid oozed from within. The flesh twisted on itself, fingers bending backward at impossible angles. Tendons snapped with audible cracks beneath the skin.
As a foul mix of rotting flesh and acidic stench filled the air, Fauriel was choking. His eyes rolled back, foam bubbled from his mouth. He tried to speak:
"G-ghhh… sto… p-p…"
The words caught in his throat, reduced to a garbled mess.
Ravien watched in silence. Not even a twitch in his brow. He simply leaned in, studying the mangled state of Fauriel's arm.
---
(POV: Ravien)
Hmm... Not exactly what I wanted, but good enough for now. I still need to get used to it. Especially that part of the deformation—if I lose contact even for a second, I lose control.
Now for something different. This time, I'll target a single structure: the nervous system.
"Deformation successful... but still unstable. For the second trial, I'll include the nervous system."
I placed my hand once more on the twisted arm.
I closed my eyes and directed the vibration within me deep into the nerves, bypassing the muscles completely. A soft crack followed—then something broke. Soon, a disturbing movement began beneath the skin.
Within seconds, the surface split open from internal pressure. Thin, wet strands—nerve fibers—tore through the skin. Shining, quivering, glistening with a moist sheen, they seemed not born from flesh, but from something beyond.
They coiled and spilled onto the stone. They started moving. Crawling. One snapped taut as it hit a pebble, another coiled around a stone edge and yanked until it tore. A milky, slime-like fluid leaked from the severed end.
One fiber remained attached to Fauriel's arm, dangling and probing the floor.
"Second trial successful. Nerve system and fibers can now be manipulated independently."
After noting this, Ravien stared at Fauriel's limp body. Bloodied foam spilled from his mouth, eyelids fluttering half-shut. His body barely twitched—yet he was still alive.
Ravien's face remained blank. He tilted his head slightly, almost puzzled.
"So, he passed out..."
His gaze shifted back to the nerve fibers hanging from the ruined arm. Still moving. Obedient. Alive.
"They always overestimate human pain thresholds. So fragile... Passing out already—how disappointing."
Then he looked at one of the nerve threads. He gently touched it with a finger. The fiber curled, but did not break contact.
"Function remains… That means motor activation doesn't require consciousness."
Ravien stood up, still staring at the mutilated limb. The nerves had begun to slither across the stone. But that alone wasn't enough.
"Now then... Can I summon them without touching?"
He raised his hand. Without blinking, he focused on the decayed, ruptured tissue of the arm.
"Come to me."
At first, nothing. Then, the nerves in Fauriel's arm tensed. The fine threads between his finger bones, the root-like bundles in his wrist, and the curled systems deep in his arm—all stirred at once.
Everything beneath the skin burst outward. Slick, translucent structures, fine threadlike cords, even knotted nerve endings beneath the dermis rose into the air.
It was like the entire arm had turned inside out.
The fibers on the floor responded too. The whole system rose, like a living organism. Heavy, slimy strands coiled as they floated toward Ravien's outstretched hand. Obedient, mindless, but responsive.
At first touch, the fibers wrapped around Ravien's wrist. Then they crawled along the back of his hand—reaching into his knuckles, under his nails. Some climbed to his forearm. They felt warm, wet, and slick.
"Ha... there it is."
The threads kept writhing. Some were shedding, others sprouting new tendrils. The entire nerve system had seemingly abandoned its original host—and now it was his.
"Everything I deform... becomes mine."
He closed his eyes, clenching his fist. The threads tightened.
Then he opened his hand. Nerve fibers dangled between his fingers. Drops of pus still dripped onto the floor.
From his pocket, he pulled out a notebook. Spinning the pen between his fingers, he paused before calmly writing:
"Third trial successful: Complete transfer of deformed nervous system from host to new controller, with command responsiveness maintained."
Fauriel's arm was now nothing more than bone and a deflated sack of withered skin.