Melody

  From the beginning, the young man named Emil Milligan had been something of an enigma for Melody.

  He had a boyish face. Cute, perhaps even pretty, and not yet matured enough to earn the right to be called handsome. His eyes were blue, resembling the dim hue of a depleted Azurite stone. They gave him an intelligent and pensive appearance, but all it took was a slight scowl for his scholarly look to turn barbaric. Perhaps he made more of an impression that most of her peers during her brief stint at the Academy, but that should have been the end of her interest.

  Despite her lust for combat, Melody was, first and foremost, devoted to her mission. After gaining access to the Consortium, she spent most of her time in the prestigious archives, searching for the documents that would give Vigil the means to fulfill their objectives. She was very much a recluse. All of her classmates were strangers to her. Many of them tried to befriend her, but she was never interested. Why would she be?

  She had swept through her year’s Clash of Dawn with ease. Not a single drop of sweat. She didn’t feel a speck of danger from any of her classmates. They simply weren’t worth her time.

  But when this year’s Clash of Dawn preliminaries began, she found herself charmed.

  Sure, Emil’s astonishing performance made for an entertaining spectacle. He was a dark horse that came out of nowhere, surprising everyone with his aggressive and brutal combat style. He often found himself in unfavorable situations, but somehow, he’d always manage to claw out on top with cleverness or sheer force of will.

  It wasn’t hard to root for him.

  But Melody’s feelings were more complicated. She felt an affinity for him. A curiosity. A strange compulsion. She didn’t think it was love or a simple crush—her capacity for those emotions should have been destroyed by the Bestowed Project.

  She found herself confounded. Even after conducting an interview with him on a whim, she still had no idea what she was experiencing. It wasn’t like her to take a personal interest in someone. And it wasn’t like they had some sort of shared history that would make her drawn to him.

  So, why?

  It wasn’t until they had an unexpected fight at the Clash of Dawn banquet that she finally understood.

  That night, I found someone who also experienced hell.

  She had no evidence, but she knew right away once he unveiled his Gift that Emil was also a victim of the Bestowed Project.

  What she felt was a twisted form of comradery.

  And so, on a whim, she spared his life, even as she caught a glimpse of his terrifying potential.

  I didn’t think I was capable of feeling for anyone besides Kleine.

  The Bestowed Project had robbed her of many things.

  Her childhood. Her future. Her capacity to love.

  Even her namesake had been taken from her.

  Before she became a lab rat, Melody was training to be a musician and a dancer. Music was in her blood. She found nothing more beautiful than the universality of music. How an arrangement and sequence of sounds could invoke emotions that transcended race, culture, and class. To her, music was the purest and rawest form of language.

  She could never forget the visceral horror ripping apart her guts when she was robbed of her passion.

  At the time, the Council of Mana had taken an interest in how the mind affected Awakenings. Naturally, it required experimentation. Melody still remembered the cold, intrusive touch of the scalpels prying open her skull. She was left awake the entire time, kept still with metal chains and unable to move due to anesthetics. The researchers were meticulous—they administered her just enough of the drug to keep her conscious. Without a choice, she watched in absolute terror, like a soul trapped in an unresponsive vessel, as they messed with her brain.

  By some miracle, or perhaps more aptly a curse, she survived the ordeal.

  The aftermath left her scarred. Her emotional circuitry was heavily damaged and she lost the ability to distinguish sounds.

  Music was now a cacophony of notes. She could still recognize the tunes, but the fascination she felt before was gone. The sensation was hollow. The beauty was gone.

  I hear this.

  I recognize this.

  I knew I loved this.

  But that joy is now just a memory.

  After four hellish years, she and Kleine were only two subjects still alive.

  Their final experiment in the Bestowed Project was receiving surgical implants from fallen Exalted. One of them was Laya the Salvo, an Exalted of commoner origins who rose to become the King’s consort.

  It was a success. Against all odds, both Melody and Kleine survived the operation and successfully underwent an artificial Awakening. They were now Exalted. The researchers were elated at their achievement, having done something that was assumed to be in the realm of the divine. They dared to play God and succeeded.

  In the midst of their celebrations, however, they forgot something crucial.

  They had just given their lab rats the means to fight back.

  ***

  Melody laid on the floor of the Canticle. She stared into darkness. The rush of water echoed in the background while the incessant rain continued to drum against the ceiling of the subterranean chamber.

  She couldn’t feel a thing.

  Stones dug into her back. She tried to will herself to move, but her lower body remained still. She could at least still move her arms, albeit with difficulty. Tracing the length of her torso, she searched for the reason for her immobilization.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  …!

  Warm blood stuck to her fingertips. The amount was disturbing. She felt the other side of her torso just to be sure. After confirming it, she accepted the state of her body.

  A chunk of her lower left side had been blown apart.

  On instinct, she tried to channel mana into the area. Her Gift didn’t have any inherent healing properties, but Mana Arts could at least strengthen her flesh and organs to ensure that she didn’t bleed out. The versatility of the technique was incredible, if an Exalted could somehow get over the limitations of Overclock. Her special constitution, crafted from the Bestowed Project, did just that, giving her an unnatural tolerance to mana and its poisonous effects.

  She channeled mana and yet nothing responded. Melody froze for a moment. She regained her rationality quickly after as she arrived at the logical conclusion. Her Azurite accessory must have been severed. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but it was the only explanation for her inability to weave mana. If this had been intentional, then her foe was frighteningly meticulous.

  Well, this is terrible.

  When was the last time she had been defeated this badly?

  Probably not since Kleine and I destroyed the lab and escaped.

  Ardair had no shortage of powerful Exalted lurking in its depths, but Melody had plenty of unfair advantages thanks to the Bestowed Project. Once she and Kleine made their vows and formed Vigil, she never once experienced such a devastating defeat.

  Did I go easy on him?

  The darkness of the Canticle suddenly receded. A familiar flame illuminated its watery depths once more. The light felt distant, but it steadily grew closer as the seconds passed. Melody could feel the heat glaring at weary body.

  Emil loomed over her. His expression was unreadable due to the shadows cast by his flames.

  No. I fought with everything I had.

  She smiled. One look at his battered body told her everything that she needed to know.

  He’s just a monster.

  Emil

  Blaze flickered weakly as it bathed his body in a gentle warmth. The sensation was odd. No longer did Emil wince at the threat of the flames trying to consume him. Before, it felt like a wild animal that he had to tame. Now that he’s accepted it as a part of him, it moved with the obedience of a well-trained pet.

  The cleansing flames slowly spread through his insides, gradually removing impurities and slowly cauterizing his wounds. He didn’t need to think about it—Blaze worked naturally to keep him alive. That included sealing the nasty hole ripped open near his right shoulder.

  Emil’s gambit worked out. Deactivating Blaze created an unexpected opening for him. Suddenly robbed of her sight, Melody hesitated as she overcommitted to deliver the killing blow. The split-second delay in her movement made all the difference.

  She now laid in a puddle of blood. Beaten, not yet dead.

  He stood over her, staring at her ghastly state. He was now faced with a decision. A cauldron of emotions swelled in his chest. Euphoria over his victory was intermingled with raw hatred. How many people had died today? And for what? What did the destruction of Thanatos and the bombing of Isarelle truly accomplish?

  Melody said that her goals were purely out of spite against the kingdom that robbed her of her future. If so, then why involve so many innocents? Why not go against the people who actually wronged her? Why inflict the same pain onto those who didn’t deserve it?

  The questions raced through his head, but he stamped them out. It didn’t matter, he decided in the end. It wouldn’t change what he had to do. In fact, making an effort to understand this deranged person in front of him would only lessen his resolve. He didn’t want to understand her. He didn’t want to risk feeling a smidgen of sympathy.

  Bulwark formed a dagger in his working left hand.

  “How fitting…” Melody weakly muttered, “For me to be defeated by the superior product.”

  Emil leaned in, trying to ignore her vague words.

  “Don’t you want to know? Why I spared your life in the banquet hall?”

  He froze.

  “I’m also a victim of the Bestowed Project. Kleine and I. We were there from the beginning. We were the only survivors.”

  He must have looked shocked because Melody immediately continued.

  “I knew it. You’re the fruits of the knowledge born from our suffering.” She let out a derisive laugh. “How does it feel? To confirm your superiority. To know that your existence was built on the blood and suffering of more than five hundred children. To be the perfected outcome of that wretched experiment.” Melody’s eyes gleamed with malice. “It must feel thrilling! Oh, how I envy to be in your lofty position!”

  Contempt stained each word she spoke. The venomous tone made him wince. He could feel the bitterness and rancor thrown at him as though he was the reason behind her suffering. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. She knew that. And he knew Melody was trying to rattle him.

  Still, he couldn’t help but fall for the bait.

  “You think I wanted this?! You think I wanted to be turned into an abomination?!”

  “Neither did we! But what does it matter?!”

  “But you did. You could have chosen any other way to vent this anger. Instead, you decide to be a mass murderer. To steal the lives of thousands of innocents. For what?! So you can drag them down to your level?!”

  “Exactly. You get it,” she said with the hiss of a snake, “But don’t get it twisted. Don’t think you’re above me just because you’ve won. You think I was born this way? No, before becoming a lab rat, I was a singer and a dancer. The Bestowed Project warped me into a spiteful monstrosity. You and I, we’re not that different. I know it. I see it. The reality is—”

  She giggled.

  “You’re just a coin flip away from becoming like me.”

  No. Emil shuddered. The premise horrified him. Every inch of his body was repulsed even entertaining the possibility. Him, becoming like Vigil? Like Melody and Kleine? Creating indiscriminate death? He couldn’t even imagine it. He had to reject this. But for some reason, he remained silent. His mouth trembled, unable to come up with the words to refute her statement.

  Melody burst into laughter. The hideous noise blared in his ears, making a mockery of his resolve.

  Squelch!

  “Hahaha! See?! You’re an animal! A beast! You’re no different—”

  Squelch!

  Her head twisted to the side. Her nasty mouth finally stopped moving.

  Emil dropped his hands. His bloodied knuckles were still clenched, shaking. It took some effort for him to finally pry them apart. Melody fell unconscious after taking two blows to the forehead. Still not dead. It was evident now that the Bestowed Project had changed their constitution. Even if he was Exalted, he should have long succumbed to exhaustion.

  Two of Vigil’s members are survivors of the Bestowed Project.

  The revelation resounded in his head. He couldn’t believe it. But the details of the Bestowed Project were shrouded in mystery. Still, if what Melody claimed was true, then Vigil’s motivations suddenly became clearer.

  Two survivors of a terrible experiment. A Gharian. And an eastern foreigner, likely from a hostile nation.

  Four people who had plenty of reasons to detest this kingdom.

  All that stuff about “cleansing the rot” and “removing corruption” is just pretense. What they really want is revenge.

  It was just a hypothesis, but he was sure of it. As much he loathed to admit it, Emil could emphasize with their sentiments. Melody wasn’t wrong. If Steiger hadn’t shackled him with Mia and Raz’s wellbeing, he might have long abandoned his humanity for vengeance.

  The Canticle suddenly echoed with footsteps.

  Emil glanced up. The glow of Azurite intermingled with Blaze’s illumination. Beneath the cerulean light, he saw a familiar face.

  Rory von Astrea.

  What’s the Second Prince doing here?

  He was about to take a step forward when Rory suddenly spoke.

  “Don’t move,” he said with authority befitting of a prince.

  Alarms rang in Emil’s head. What was going on? Weren’t they on the same side? Why the cold reception? When he took a harder glance at Rory, he noticed the glare in his eyes. His body was subtly lowered in a defensive stance. Mana faintly covered his limbs. He was on edge. Trembling. As if preparing to fight.

  Emil looked down. The dagger forged by Bulwark was still tight in his hands. Blaze engulfed his body. His clothes had been torn into rags. His skin was caked in dirt and dried blood. He must have looked hideous. Like a monster.

  Just what kind of face was he making right now?

  “Emil.”

  He raised his head. His body was suddenly embraced by a soothing aura.

  “Are you okay?”

  The innocuous question made him drop his shoulders. The dagger fell from his hands. His body suddenly slumped as though the strings in his limbs have been cut loose. Aoife stepped in front of Rory. She had a gentle expression while wearing the appearance of a Valkyrie.

  “You can take a break if you’re tired,” she said. For a moment, he was reminded of their first meeting in the slums of Lower Dannan. Before he knew she was a princess. Before she suffered a horrible kidnapping at the hands of Vigil. Before her Awakening. Despite everything she’s been through, her worried gaze never changed.

  How nostalgic.

  “You can leave the rest to us.”

  He sat down, closed his eyes, and let exhaustion take him away.