Dreambreaker Chapter 98: Brewing Enemy

Chapter 98: Brewing Enemy

In the dimly lit and austere prison corridor, a guard made his rounds.

On either side of the corridor stood rooms--cages technically. Solitary confinents for prisoners, not because they were of any threat, but simply to restrict them of freedom to move. Perhaps to give the bandi claustrophobic experiences for rest of their miserable lives.

Each cell held a number plate.

1817-B2--coming to a halt at this particular cell, the guard stopped.

Flashing a badge at the side runic circle, the cell opened.

Inside the cell was a Werewolf, caged with chains, locked to a steel chair. Michael —his na, the only thing which was left of him.

For the hineous cri of committing massacre at Genova, Michael, the werewolf, was excomunicado from Ruler's domain.

Despite being paralyzed from the neck down, he was still held captive, shackled by chains. His eyes appeared hollow and devoid of life as they stared at the cold concrete floor.

In a sudden mont, Michael lifted his gaze, his attention drawn to the prison guard. Inhaling deeply, he detected a familiar scent and, after a short pause, exclaid, "Brother Lex... is that you?"

The prison guard flinched, his body jerking involuntarily. His emotions were carefully concealed, but as he removed what appeared to be a part of his face—a mask—an artifact, his true werewolf form was revealed. His reddish mane and larger physique distinguished him as Lex.

"It is you, Brother Lex!" Michael exclaid, his voice filled with a flicker of happiness that breathed life into his previously hollow eyes.

Lex, in a stable but deeply saddening tone, asked, "What have they done to you, Michael? How did this co to be?" Though his voice remained composed, it masked a multitude of emotions, with sorrow prevailing over the others.

In response, the light in Michael's eyes flickered as he lowered his head once more. After a brief pause, he uttered, "I am paralyzed from the neck down. I have even lost Sylisiya. My life holds no worth anymore."

Lex placed his hands gently on Michael's shoulders, his emotions still concealed beneath his exterior.

In a tender tone, he inquired, "I have read the official reports but I want to hear it from you. Tell , who did this to you?"

Michael sighed, struggling to recall the crucial fragnts of that fateful day. He attempted to piece together how a seemingly routine mission, centered around abducting so human students from Arcanum Academy, had culminated in his ultimate downfall.

"Probably so guy...maybe a student?", Michael offered.

Gradually, Michael began to divulge the entire sequence of events, vividly recounting the features of the person responsible for the tragedy that had befallen him.

This guy was not only accountable for Michael's suffering but also for the untily demise of Sylisiya.

The image of the lifeless vampiress, her eyes filled with death, still etched itself deeply in Michael's mory.

After a few monts, Lex nodded, his voice lowering almost to a whisper, "So it was really 'the Unstory'." His gaze shifted to the floor, as if trying to assemble the scattered pieces of the tale.

'The Unstory'— that's what the union officers called this person, who was involved in the notorious Geniva Mansion incident. There were countless reports of a man who rcilessly killed nurous vampire-kins on that fateful day.

Even so students from Arcanum Blades Academy had given testimonials of seeing this mysterious person.

CCTV footage would blur into static noise wherever he went. And when the CCTV footage did reconnect, all it showed was a floor filled with dead bodies of vampire-kins and blood. Wherever he went, he left behind a trail of death. On that fateful day, he even took the life of a Vampiress.

However, due to the lack of solid evidence or any leads connecting him to anyone, the union officers simply dubbed him as the Unstory—a blank page in a story left unwritten. A blank page which simply should not exist, a void which makes no sense.

"Don't worry, brother. You've given enough to piece things together. I'll find out who he is," Lex assured Michael.

But his deanor suddenly shifted, his tone promising more to himself than to Michael, "No, I will find him, without a doubt. And when I do... I'll make him pay. I'll squash him like a bug!"—Lexicon growled, while clenching his fist.

"No, Lex, don't underestimate him."

"Hmm? What do you an?"

"Those gray eyes," Michael muttered, as distant mory of two lifeless gray eyes entered his mind. "The gaze in those eyes doesn't belong to a normal person", he continued, his voice trailing off. "Those eyes belongs to soone who has stared death in the face countless tis."

"Listen to broth.. "

...

***

Nathan River's POV:

Noah Grey. Sixteen years old. He had dark hair that defaulted to beautiful curtain bangs without any effort on his part.

His lips were off-put, just alittle, neither smiling, nor upset. No emotions. But if you look at them closely for a few seconds he would surely ask, "Are you gay?"

"No."

"Well then, quit staring at my lips," he snapped, his attention shifting to the gateway where a swarm of trucks rolled in.

'Yes, I am not gay. Matter-of-factly, I even have a girlfriend. But I won't tell you that, knowing that you could use it to blackmail . I am sure you will.'

Noah Grey, a type of person who would do anything and everything to get people under his control. Working with him, sorry working under him for two months already gave an idea what kind of person he was. You can never quite decipher what the hell is going on in that mysterious mind of his.

His nose was strong and sharp, a damnednear-perfect nose. It looked like the beak of an eagle—beautifully designed. But of course it was those dark eyes that drew you in.

Where had he gotten eyes that dark? They looked unnatural. Like soone wearing black contact lenses. And Noah would turn those black, unnatural dark eyes on you, and you wouldn't know whether you were looking into profound depths or maybe just into a very crazy place. "You know Nathan, I am beginning to question your sexuality."

"I am Sorry, I won't stare. "

"I hope so."

Noah was here to t a person, Leo.

Soone I recruited for him, Leo.

Age fourty-five, ex-army veteran of Jiju, Royal Highland Miles. (Motto: Nemo Impugn Lacessit—No One Assails with Impunity. Or the alternative version—Do Not Fuck with Us or We Will Hurt You.)

Shoulders you could break a cinder block on, disciplined, up every morning to run twenty kiloters in whatever weather Krenada had on offer.

Leo Dostoevsky, who had earned the Brave Amulet for basically having balls so big he had taken out three baron level demons with a knife while literally carrying a wounded comrade on his back.

He was a loyal central union army officer, until the day, when his daughter died. He begged central union to provide him silver rose petals to save his daughter, but since they only grew once every eight-hundred years, they refused.

Frustrated by the system, Leo left the army regi behind. He dived into the world of independent supply and arms dealing, mainly operating in the infamous Dyrne Alley. Unbound by loyalty to any particular faction or group, Leo was soone who could be swayed with the right amount of money.

Leo greeted with an exuberant tone, although his smile fell just short of reaching his eyes. "Well, well, well, young man, what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance!"

"Before you get carried away, let clarify—I'm not the one in charge here," I retorted, tilting my head sideways to indicate Noah.

"Oh? Sorry about that. So a young brat rich enough to buy all these, eh?", Dostoevsky remarked in a grating tone, as he looked down disdainfully upon Noah.

In stark contrast, Noah simply t his gaze with a detached expression, devoid of any evident human emotion, and uttered only the most necessary words. "Did they dispatch you with the bees?"

Dostoevsky's eyebrow shot up in surprise, caught off guard by the icy detachnt in Noah's deanor, which unmistakably conveyed a no-nonsense attitude.

"Sure, feel free to check the truck, and all the necessary equipnt is right here," he responded, complying with Noah's request.

"Great, I'll be needing those," Noah muttered, his attention shifting towards the trucks as if they held more interest than Dostoevsky himself.

Noah redirected his gaze back to Dostoevsky and stated, "I'm willing to pay you triple the amount I originally offered if you agree to take on another job for ."

Dostoevsky's grin grew increasingly irritating as he replied, "So, Daddy's got deep pockets, huh? Tell you what, make it quadruple the paynt, and we've got ourselves a deal."

"You've got yourself a deal," Noah confird.

"Deal!" Dostoevsky exclaid, his smile shining brightly as he extended his hand for a handshake. However, Noah simply brushed past him, scoffing, "I don't shake hands with bastards who can't even save their own kin."

'Ouch, that was definitely a low blow,' I thought to myself, sensing tension building in Leo's veins. However, as always, Noah seed unaffected by the impact of his words.

***

(Late at night,1 AM)

Noah's POV:

With forceps in hand, I delicately held the bee, observing it through a loupe perched on my eyes like a pair of glasses.

After swiftly severing its tail, I placed the wriggling insect onto the incubator and tossed the expended bee into the nearby trash bin, where it would et its fate.

My attention then shifted to the left, where three glass cylinders brimd with a teeming mass of a thousand or so bees.

thodically, I extracted another batch of bees, handling them with utmost care. Placing them onto a contraption that induced them to bite onto a gloved hand, I procured small droplets of their precious venom.

"Ha"—I sighed, allowing the process to run its course as I observed the DNA Analyzer(PCR) Machine, Liquid Chromatography-Mass Spectrotry (LC-MS) machine, and the Flow Cytoter.

I purchased these prized devices two weeks ago from the enchanting marketplace of DyrnAlley, solely relying on my resourcefulness as I lacked the necessary license.

"Ha, these upcoming nights will be sleepless," I murmured, acknowledging the arduous journey ahead.

Although my expertise lay in the realm of software engineering, I wasn't entirely inept when it ca to laboratory work.

My grandfather had imparted so laboratory technician skills upon , and my biology knowledge was well above average. Being confined to my bed all day due to my physical limitations proved tireso, so I occupied my ti by studying like a diligent scholar.

Of course, Nano is the one guiding through the intricacies of concocting the drug.

"Just a few more days, and then I'll finally et her. It's quite nerve-wracking, now that I think about it," I let out.

The Great Mage Seraphina Darkthorn.

"Perhaps I should arrange for a private jet to exude that rich dude vibe when I t her," I pondered, ready to make a lasting impression.