Five years after the war.
The Dungeon echoed the slient cries of prisoners and ceast alike.
The beastman's claws scraped against the reinforced steel table as Prophet adjusted the gravity rune above its chest. Five years of failed experiments had taught him precision—this setting would compress bones without crushing organs.
Crack.
A rib snapped. The creature's howl echoed through the dungeon, drowning out the distant tremors from the training towers. Prophet didn't flinch as he recorded the reaction in his leather-bound journal.
"Subject number 217 shows increased cellular regeneration under 4.7G pressure," he muttered, dipping his quill in a vial of beastblood ink. "Soul destabilization threshold remains..."
Blue flames licked at the edge of his vision.
"Still playing with prisoners that should just rot in the dungeons, little brother?"
Lysara materialized from azure embers, her fingers trailing through the beastman's matted fur. It whimpered ,a sound that cut off abruptly when her flames danced across its eyelids.
"Control subject," Prophet corrected, watching muscles twitch under exposed ribs. "Though you've compromised today's data."
His sister's laugh was the sound of breaking glass. "You're welcome." She flicked her wrist, and the beastman's soul ignited in a brief, beautiful conflagration. The corpse slumped, its remaining bones powdering under sustained gravity. "Now you can start over with something interesting."
A tremor shook the dungeon ,deeper than the usual tower tests. Somewhere above them, another batch of recruits were learning how gravity could forge souls.
---
The Emperor's Shadows , his most trusted elite guard was always watching over his children.
Especially Prophet he was the most protected since he was the most vulnerable, he did not want another crazy god or other nations to try something.
Kael found them three hours later, standing over Prophet's most controversial experiment yet.
The Xa'lgathrax spy hung suspended between two pulsating gravity runes, his body stretched like a spider caught in a storm. Blood beaded on his skin where the pressure forced capillaries to burst.
"Father won't approve of using prisoners," Kael said, his voice flat.
Prophet adjusted the dial minutely. The spy's left femur snapped with a wet crunch. "He approved the research. And you seem to forget father only values Veydran blood and his citizens so the materials are...flexible when it comes to this."
Lysara traced a flaming finger along the spy's trembling jaw. "This one volunteered. Didn't you?"
The spy's mouth worked, producing only a froth of blood and broken teeth.
Kael's sigh carried the weight of collapsing stars. "Results."
"Watch." Prophet activated the soul-capture array. Blue tendrils snaked from Lysara's flames into the spy's gaping mouth. "At 5.2G with synchronized soul infusion..."
The spy's remaining eye bulged as his skeleton began glowing through his skin.
"Fascinating," Kael murmured as golden sigils bloomed across the man's flesh ,the telltale marks of a nascent Body Warrior.
Then the spy exploded.
Chunks of meat slapped against the far wall. Lysara's flames vaporized the worst of the gore before it could ruin Prophet's notes.
"Seventeen percent success rate," Prophet said, wiping brain matter from his chalkboard. "Better than last week."
Kael studied the remaining foot still twitching in its restraint. "You're keeping something back."
Prophet's hand drifted to the locked cabinet behind him. "A hypothesis. Not ready for presentation. And either way what I'm keeping back is for me not you guys."
The gravity in the room doubled as Kael stepped closer. "Father expects..."
"Father expects miracles from a son with no energy core," Prophet snapped. The words tasted bitter after five years of swallowing them. "Give me three more days."
The pressure relented. Kael nodded once before turning to leave.
"Don't disappoint him."
---
The Towers of Ascension was just a by product of his research on getting himself an energy core and ability.
Dawn painted the first Gravity-Soul Tower in hues of blood and gold as Prophet watched the inaugural class enter. Commoners ,men and women with no noble blood or innate abilities ,shuffled through the arched entrance. Some trembled. Others prayed.
All were desperate.
"Your legacy," Lysara mused, appearing beside him in a swirl of azure embers. "A monument to your inadequacy."
Inside the tower, the first screams began as gravity took its toll. Prophet's fingers twitched toward the vial hidden in his coat, a swirling black substance that had cost him fourteen test subjects to refine.
"They'll call it the Veydran Miracle," he said.
"They'll never know your name."
A thunderous cheer erupted from the tower's upper levels. The first successful candidates emerged—their skin gleaming with elemental sigils, eyes burning with hard-won power.
Soul Mages. Body Warriors.
The dynasty's newest weapons.
Prophet turned away. "I don't need their gratitude. Only when they're of use to our Dynasty , now with this they also could fight ability users as long as they obey. "
"Then what do you need, brother?" Lysara's flames cast dancing shadows across his face.
His reflection in the tower's obsidian surface grinned back at him, eyes bleeding black.
"More test subjects. My ultimate goalis within reach , soon sister ."
---
The Forbidden cabinet , a cabinet where Prophet used to store his most important research results , it was filled with traps that only recognized him , anyone else would set off alarms which would be heard by Kane. And every Veydran knew that Kan wanted no harm to come Prophet or what he eemed important.
The name forbidden cabinet came from Lysara when she once tried opening it and no sooner than the alarms came was her father in front of her and gave her a harsh scolding on not touching what Prophet doesn't want to be touched.
Midnight found Prophet alone in his sanctum, the cabinet's lock clicking under his trembling fingers , the alchemy traps scanned and ascertained it was him only then did it open.
Inside, twelve vials of failure lined the shelves , each one a lesson written in agony. But the thirteenth...
The thirteenth pulsed with a darkness that drank the torchlight.
The Devour Gene.
Extracted from the corpse of a voidbeast. Refined through a hundred human trials. Stabilized using his own research into soul-body synchronization.
Prophet's reflection warped in the viscous surface.
Not yet.
He slammed the cabinet shut, the lock clicking like a final warning.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow he would change everything.
---