The First Trial

Beyond the blood-red iron doors lay a scene straight out of hell. Under the harsh, pale lights, rows of cultivation tanks gleamed with a cold metallic sheen. Light shone through the glass onto cloudy, pale-yellow liquid, where all manner of grotesque creatures and severed organs bobbed like lumps of body fat.

All kinds of specimens had been carefully preserved in embalming fluid and sealed inside metal containers. You could find most of the species and creatures of Faerûn here. At a glance, Ryan spotted Gnolls, Lizardfolk, Dwarves, Elves, Drow, Dire Tigers, and dozens of other creatures.

There were also countless organs and biological tissues, sorted into sealed chambers. One glance at them was enough to make anyone's sanity plummet.

In the vast, freezing laboratory, the specimens preserved in their containers were not the only nightmare fuel. The biological samples kept in the cabinets along the walls were even more horrifying, vacuum-sealed and magically preserved against decay.

Pale, massive skeletons; neatly separated muscles and extraordinary organs. Dark red, deep red, bright red, waxy yellow, pallid white, dark gray—their different hues stood out in sharp, orderly layers beneath the bright lights overhead.

These biological tissues had been classified, sorted, and preserved according to their inherent structures and functions, in a manner of remarkable scientific precision.

Unfortunately, most people in Faerûn lacked the scientific literacy to recognize that. To Jelona and the Dwarf shield warrior, everything before them looked like a hellscape conjured by the most deranged and cold-blooded lich or demon from the Abyss.

The scene was a flagrant desecration of the purity and beauty of life. The malice and disregard for life embodied by the frigid laboratory seemed almost tangible. The Half-elf Ranger, who cherished nature and life, went cold from head to toe even as fury blazed in her heart.

Ryan, on the other hand, could glimpse the terrifying intellect and vast knowledge of the laboratory's master in the way everything was arranged, classified, and textured. After all, when he had studied necromancy, he had personally dissected Goblins and Kobolds—those irrepressible evil creatures—and stained his hands with the blood and vengeful spirits of hundreds, if not thousands.

But often, it was those with firsthand experience who understood the meaning and significance hidden in what appeared plain and unremarkable. This scene struck Ryan far more deeply than it did Jelona and the others, who understood only a fraction of what they were seeing.

Unlike Jelona and the other two, who were outsiders to this field and horrified and saddened by the gruesome sight, Ryan wasn't shaken by its cruelty. What chilled him to the bone was the purposeful indifference and absolute impartiality displayed by the one who had wielded the scalpel.

The idea that life and death were one, that all things were equal—that beings of his own kind, lowly Goblin lambs, and even holy, exalted angels were all equal beneath the dissecting knife, regardless of morality or constraint—deeply shook Ryan. It also made him realize that this otherworldly senior was no kindly old grandfather figure.

Thanks to his strong nerves and experience studying necromancy, Ryan soon recovered from his shock and the plunge in his sanity. He frowned at the frigid laboratory before him, as if he could hear the anguished screams of vengeful spirits and their profound despair.

Ryan hadn't begun studying necromancy for its destructive power or its strategic potential as a pollutant. His nature was kind, and he had no intention of becoming a notorious necromancer, hunted across the continent by fanatical devotees of justice.

He had devoted some of his efforts to this grim and cruel magic only because undead creatures could work tirelessly around the clock, without complaint, and with unfailing diligence.

Unlike constructs, which needed their power sources replenished regularly, undead skeletons could be put to hard work as long as your skill in necromancy was strong enough. With only a little magic, you could get an employee who worked all day without a break, demanded no wages, and worked for a company that belonged to you. (That is, unless your magic went awry and your own summon gleefully sent you packing.)

Ryan had once hoped to develop undead creatures that ordinary people could control and use, freeing the hands of the lower classes and advancing productivity. After all, there were precedents for this in Faerûn.

But because of the nature of Negative Energy and his own lack of ability, Ryan had been forced to abandon this promising line of research halfway through. For now, he had left it among his unfinished projects.

As his wild thoughts settled, Ryan slowly walked past the sealed cultivation tanks. He looked at the grimacing faces of the Elves, Dwarves, and other beings inside, still marked by helplessness and the deep, silent despair of death. Inwardly, he silently reminded himself, We walk different paths; we cannot work together.

Though Ryan was deeply impressed by the ideas embodied in these specimens and the knowledge behind them, he didn't approve of such cold indifference, which treated lives like numbers. His convictions only grew stronger, and he became even more wary of the ruins and the great Arcanist Adam.

Ryan's footsteps echoed through the empty laboratory, breaking its oppressive silence and bringing Jelona and the others back to reality.

"Ryan, wait for us!" The Half-elf Ranger, so shrewd and formidable when they'd first met, couldn't hide her alarm. In this place, steeped in death and pale, frigid air, Jelona instinctively hurried after the blond Mage she trusted and admired most.

Ryan stopped and waited for the three to catch up. Meanwhile, the boisterous Dwarf stared at the chilling containers lining both sides of the passageway. As he waddled along on his short legs, he cried out, "Gods above, I can't believe I'm seeing a Balor's head and a Planetar! Are all you Mages this crazy and terrifying, Ryan?"

"Only some of us," Ryan replied casually. Given the power of an ancient legendary archmage, he wasn't surprised that a savage Balor and a holy Planetar had fallen victim to his experiments. He only wondered which god's underling had been so unlucky.

At the same time, Ryan wondered whether, as his power grew, he would gradually lose his reverence and his true self, lose interest in everything, and become heartless and cold. After examining himself again and again, he was certain of only one thing: he would never lose his humanity or his feelings.

Jelona noticed that Ryan was in a bad mood. She glared at the Dwarf for speaking without thinking, balled her hands into fists, and made a threatening gesture at Kasla, warning him to watch his words.

Kasla took the hint and toned it down a little. Still, as he followed, he muttered just loudly enough for Jelona to hear that she was forgetting her friends for a pretty face, and that a bedmate was worth more than a partner. Jelona's brows shot up, and she glared furiously at the Dwarf.

Ryan paid no attention to the antics of the three behind him. His low spirits came mainly from his worries about the road ahead. But now that he had entered this unknown ancient ruin, he wasn't about to give up easily.

When Ryan reached the laboratory's most prominent central point, a raised steel platform, a cold, utterly emotionless mechanical voice rang in everyone's ears. "Beep. A target meeting the inheritance requirements has been detected. The first trial is commencing. Please complete the assigned task within the allotted time."

In the vast, empty laboratory, so quiet it was enough to raise the hairs on their necks, even the cold, mechanical voice felt reassuring. But after hearing what it said, Jelona and the other two turned to look at Ryan, who stood in the center.

Ryan stared at the words that had appeared along with the voice. His brow furrowed as he realized things weren't going to be simple.