"What is all this about...?"
After skimming through the last page, I closed the old, dust-caked journal and let out a slow breath. The faint scent of mildew and old ink lingered in the air.
So they were conducting chira research more than a hundred years ago?
I stared down at the brittle pages again, disbelief creeping in despite the evidence before my eyes.
"But... is that even possible?" I muttered.
Life fusion—an attempt to combine two or more completely different organisms into one being. It wasn’t just complex; it bordered on the impossible.
That kind of research stood on the sa level as black magic—the kind that tried to defy death itself.
Not a crude combination of limbs or parts, but the creation of a new living entity. A fusion so seamless that the boundary between species would vanish.
And if they’d succeeded...
An image flashed through my mind—an ogre with a troll’s regenerative power, breathing fire like a dragon.
A living calamity.
That’s why life fusion was banned. Not just by law, but by sheer reason. The very existence of such a thing could plunge the world into chaos.
Yet, according to these journals, people had crossed that line over a century ago.
"Could this all just be fiction?" I murmured. "A dream written by so mad researcher?"
But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true.
The writing was too intricate, too real. Every formula, every annotation, every desperate note in the margins—it all carried a chilling authenticity.
No, this wasn’t imagination. It was mory.
The thought made my chest tighten.
’If that’s true... did the final experint succeed?’
The entries had grown increasingly frantic toward the end—descriptions of failure after failure, of "subjects that scread in voices not their own," and of the researcher’s descent into madness.
And then... the last few lines.
A declaration that they would attempt "the final fusion."
An experint "that will transcend the limits of flesh."
I swallowed hard, the weight of those words gnawing at .
Could that be what the Sage’s Bookmark referred to as the "possibility of doom"?
The thought made my stomach twist.
But then I exhaled slowly and shook my head.
"No... maybe I’m just overthinking it."
Still, even as I tried to dismiss the idea, I couldn’t shake the faint, lingering sense that sothing terrible had been left behind here—sothing that should have never existed.
According to the journal, this project took place a very long ti ago—so long, in fact, that more than a century has passed since then.
If nothing has happened in all that ti, then, logically, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.
And yet—
"...Why do I feel so uneasy?"
No matter how many tis I tell myself it’s fine, a gnawing sense of dread keeps growing in the back of my mind. Ever since I first read those records, an ominous feeling has been clinging to like a shadow.
If the final synthesis ntioned in the journal had truly succeeded...
And if the thod recorded here sohow fell into the wrong hands—
Then things could get very bad, very fast.
I turned my gaze toward the iron cage in the corner. Inside, a grotesque creature lay motionless—a snake’s head grafted onto a dog’s body.
Its mismatched form was almost painful to look at, a living contradiction.
According to the notes, this thing was the first successful result. The prototype.
So this is what a chira really is.
A being stripped of its nature, twisted and reshaped into sothing that defies both beauty and logic.
On the front of the cage, a crude tal tag hung loosely.
[AE-1]
That was all.
No na. No designation beyond that sterile code.
It seed whoever conducted the experint never even bothered to give it an identity.
I stared at the lifeless form for a while, a strange pity stirring in my chest. Then, with a quiet sigh, I turned away.
The room was silent—no movent, no sound, only the faint hum of old magic lingering in the air.
Nothing else here seed worth investigating.
My attention shifted to the second door beside the one I’d already opened—the one waiting silently in the dim corridor.
A heavy feeling settled in my stomach as I stepped closer.
"If this was the first one," I murmured, eyeing the sealed door, "then what’s waiting in the next room?"
For so reason, I already knew I wasn’t going to like the answer.
Creeeak—
The old door groaned as it swung open, revealing what lay beyond.
A faint, cold light spilled through the gap, illuminating a space cluttered with strange instrunts, shelves lined with potion bottles, and dozens of intricate magic circles etched into the floor and walls.
It was unmistakably a laboratory.
Still standing at the threshold, I cautiously scanned the room, my hand instinctively hovering near my weapon.
Sothing felt off.
Too quiet. Too still.
Then my gaze drifted to the far corner—
"Ugh..."
My stomach twisted violently.
There, in the deepest part of the laboratory, was... sothing.
A massive, pulsating lump of red flesh, glistening under the dim light. It writhed faintly, as if breathing. Veins bulged across its surface, glowing with a faint crimson hue.
Long, stringy tendrils extended outward, coiling and uncoiling across the floor.
Splat.
A wet, sickening sound echoed through the air.
And then—
I saw them.
Human arms.
Dozens of them. So whole, others mangled—attached to that writhing mass like grotesque ornants, twitching weakly as though still alive.
"...Fuck."
I slamd the door shut, my breath coming out in ragged bursts.
The image burned itself into my mind—too vivid, too real.
Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t just an experint gone wrong.
It was alive.
And I’d just seen sothing I was never ant to see.
My mood instantly turned foul.
The journal talked about human evolution or whatever.
What the hell were they creating?
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Author Note:
Thanks for the reading the Chapter. I hope you liked it. H
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