Belore glanced sideways, his brow furrowing slightly. He looked toward Liam and Layla—not with suspicion, but genuine concern, even curiosity.
"…I've held my tongue until now," he said, folding his arms. "But I need to ask: what exactly are you two?"
Layla smirked faintly, though her eyes were lined with fatigue. "I went the biological route. Modified my genetics using a forbidden serum—daemon-blood, succubus strain. One of our older research projects, thought too dangerous to use. Turns out it's potent. I'm… not entirely human anymore. Emotions hit harder. So does my body."
Belore turned to Liam.
Liam's tone was steady, matter-of-fact. "I cloned myself. Started with clean genetic templates, corrected every flaw. Then came the synthetic muscle—denser, faster response. Reinforced bones. Enhanced lungs to filter ash, an optimized digestive system, hardened kidneys. Every organ improved. Where biology faltered, machines filled in."
He exhaled slowly. "AISAR helped design the integrations—seamless fusion of living tissue and precision engineering. The result: high survivability, peak efficiency."
Belore tilted his head. "And the cost?"
"No mana flowlines. No resonance chambers. This body can't channel magic. I gave that up when I left the old one behind."
He paused, then added with a shrug, "I was a mediocre arcanist anyway. My strength was always alchemy—and alchemy doesn't require casting. With enough external mana, you can still operate arrays and tools. Magic's not gone, just… outsourced."
That silenced the room for a moment.
It wasn't power that disturbed them—it was the unfamiliarity of this new path, this quiet, clinical shedding of the old world.
The table had gone quiet after Liam explained his transformation. Belore's eyes shifted to Layla, his expression unreadable.
"And you, Layla?" Belore asked. "You don't look quite the same either. What happened to you?"
Layla folded her arms, leaning against the chair. "I mutated."
"That much is obvious," muttered Ysolde Calwin, raising an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"
"I used a succubus DNA strain," she said plainly.
A tense silence followed.
"You used… demonic blood?" Seraphin Vale's voice came out low and disgusted, one hand tightening on the hilt of her ceremonial dagger. "Do you realize what you've become?"
Layla didn't flinch. "I know exactly what I've become. I took the genome from a succubus—not for vanity or power, but for survival. They're not demons in the old sense. They were humans once. Generations exposed to miasma, toxic mana, and the Forbidden Zone shaped them into what they are now."
"The Forbidden Zone?" General Hadrek Vorn grunted. "You mean that festering pit where magic rots and creatures twist into nightmares?"
Layla nodded. "Exactly. They lived there. Thrived. Their bodies evolved resistances our people can only dream of. I traced the stable adaptations—isolated the strain that gives them resistance to mana contamination and miasma."
"Resistance?" asked Dr. Kessian Thorne, adjusting his spectacles. "How resistant are we talking?"
"My blood doesn't clot from ambient corruption anymore. I can breathe in miasma-heavy zones without a mask. I don't break into seizures if I channel in unstable areas." Her eyes flicked to him. "But that's not the problem."
"Then what is?" asked Orvax Grimm, tapping his bony fingers together.
"My mana capacity skyrocketed," she admitted. "The mutation not only resists corruption—it amplifies affinity. Casting spells is easier. Too easy. But the more I channel, the more the ambient corruption builds inside me. High aptitude means high risk."
"That explains your current state," muttered Vaelros Nightbane. "You've turned yourself into a candle burning from both ends."
"A ticking time bomb," said Lorien Quavek dryly, finally speaking. "Brilliant, yet reckless."
Layla gave him a sharp smile. "Coming from the man who hoarded mana artifacts in unstable vaults, I'll take that as a compliment."
Calra Vynn leaned forward, her tone curious. "And how do you feel, Layla? Any… changes? Emotional volatility? Desires you didn't have before?"
"Subtle shifts," Layla admitted, frowning slightly. "Empathy is heightened. So is persuasion. Succubi weren't just survivors—they adapted emotionally, socially. But I've set safeguards. I don't seduce people into compliance."
"But you could," Calra said, amused.
General Hadrek Vorn leaned forward, arms crossed on the war table. His voice was low, edged with suspicion."So what now? Are we supposed to accept that we're working with a mutated arcanist who might explode from overexposure—and a man who might not even be human anymore?"
A tense silence settled over the room. Layla's eyes narrowed, but she kept her voice steady."I made a calculated decision. Succubi are demons, yes, but they were once human—mutated through generations of exposure to the Forbidden Zone's miasma and unstable mana. I isolated and restructured their strain to gain that resistance."
"Good for miasma," muttered Dr. Kessian Thorne, tapping a stylus against his datapad. "But you said your mana sensitivity went through the roof?"
Layla nodded. "Yes. My aptitude surged, beyond what I predicted. Which means I have to be careful. The contaminated mana in the capital is already a problem. If I absorb too much, the consequences will be… violent."
Magister Orvax Grimm looked intrigued rather than concerned. "So you're walking a razor's edge between evolution and annihilation. Fascinating."
"And Liam?" Hadrek's eyes shifted. "You're just fine walking around in a shell of alloy and wires?"
Liam met his gaze with quiet confidence. "Without mana pathways, there's nothing to corrupt. I'll remain sharp, strong, and untouched—long after others have fallen. When this age ends, I'll still be here."
Hadrek grunted. "So we've got a demon-blooded alchemist and a mana-dead machine-man. Just what this dying city needs."
"Call it what you want," Layla said coolly. "We're still alive. That already puts us ahead of most."