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Chapter 24 – Shackles Beneath
Haaah… haaah…
The slow, shallow sound of breathing echoed in the cold darkness.
"Urrgh…" Frank moaned as consciousness clawed its way back to him. Pain throbbed in his skull like a drumbeat from a distant war. He pressed a hand to his head but flinched—his wrists resisted, bound tight. His eyelids parted reluctantly.
Dim orange light flickered through the chamber, casting moving shadows on smooth stone walls veined with metallic wiring that pulsed faintly like arteries. The air was musty, almost ancient, but hummed with the low, eerie whir of mana-powered circuitry. Thin blue conduits etched into the stone glowed faintly, like veins of a sleeping beast—sci-fi tech meshed unnaturally into old architecture.
He was in a dungeon.
The walls were smooth, cold, and carved with old symbols—half erased—but now wired with mana circuit feeds connected to glowing magnetic panels embedded in the corners. Each panel seemed to hum as if alive, and faint pulses traveled through the floor like it was breathing. At the far end, a reinforced gate sealed him in—an octagonal cage door laced with translucent glyphs and glowing silver locks.
"Damn…" Frank muttered, wincing as he sat upright, dragging a rattle from his metallic cuffs.
"Hurts like hell, doesn't it?"
The voice was unexpected. Calm. Slightly amused.
Frank turned with a startled grunt. "Jeez! You didn't have to come out all creepy… How long've you been sitting there?"
Across the room, slouched in a sleek, transparent chair made of hardlight glass, sat Bill—goggles resting on his head, fingers idly flicking through a transparent tablet glowing with blue data streams.
"Oh, well… couple minutes, give or take," Bill replied, barely glancing up.
Frank blinked. "How long have I been out?"
"Since dusk yesterday… maybe a quarter-day, surprisingly," Bill said, casually scrolling.
Frank moved his arm—barely. It was tethered by a magnetic octagon-shaped cuff, glowing with a low red pulse.
"Shit…" he breathed.
"Hehe… Automated magnetic mana-driven cuffs," Bill remarked with a proud smirk.
"Didn't ask… nerd," Frank muttered, eyes drifting to the cage door.
Outside stood two sentries. Both tanned. One woman, one man. They watched him silently—motionless statues with unsheathed swords strapped to their backs, eyes sharp.
"They're just watching out for you, I assure—"
"I don't give a shit!" Frank barked, cutting him off.
He tensed his arms, trying to pull free. They budged slightly—only to snap back as if magnetized. A faint spark flared at the cuffs.
"I did say magnetic, didn't I?" Bill added smugly.
"Why do you guys want me here?" Frank asked, gaze narrowing.
"Well… rephrasing that—we don't want you here," Bill admitted, leaning forward. "You killed one of our men. He wants you here. Our leader."
"Hm… also rephrasing," Frank echoed mockingly. "I didn't kill your guy… Hell, I didn't even know someone died."
He leaned his head back against the stone.
"I'm just gonna chill a bit…"
"Mmhmm… Because you think your friends are coming?" Bill asked, tilting his head.
"They're not coming for you, Frank."
Frank's eyes flicked to him.
"Reason being—I fried every device on your body just in case."
"Ohhh… so that time I got all that voltage surging through my body…" Frank murmured.
Bill casually waved his right palm, revealing a circular disk attached to it. "Yeah. That."
"Prick…" Frank muttered.
"Can I ask?" he added after a moment, shifting again.
"Go on," Bill said, curious.
"Why the hell can't I beat you up right now?"
Bill chuckled. "You're a funny guy. Pretty sure Spike liked you… or not."
He leaned forward again. "Well, answer's simple. The cuff messes with the nerves in your body."
Frank blinked. "What, you mean these?" He lifted his bound hands slightly.
"Nope," Bill said, then pointed toward Frank's neck.
Frank froze.
Then he felt it—a smooth coldness around his neck. A collar.
"This one interferes directly with your thalamus—the brain region responsible for skill activation. I designed it to inhibit all mana-nerve transmissions."
"So you won't be doing any replicating, alright?"
Frank's eyes widened. He's right… I can't feel my skill. I can't appraise him. Or the guards…
Dammit…
He exhaled sharply.
"So what? You designed all this 'cause what…? You don't have a skill set?" Frank asked, smirking.
Bill's face twitched. He looked away and sighed.
Just then, footsteps echoed down the corridor. Frank turned.
A figure approached the gate.
"Ohhh… guests," Bill said, standing up and pressing the release key.
The door hissed open.
Spike walked in. And behind her—Leader Jack.
"Well, if it isn't Spike," Frank said, cocking his head. "Still don't think that name hits right with me."
Spike didn't reply.
THWACK!!
A loud, sickening crack echoed through the dungeon.
Frank's head jerked back as Spike's fist slammed into his face.
"KOFF—Koff!! Damn…" Frank spat, wincing. "That hit the spot…"
"Hey! Spike, chill out—Leader Jack's got this," Bill called, moving to hold her back.
Frank's eyes drifted to her thigh—bandaged. Red soaked the wrapping.
"Someone's injury hasn't healed yet… what caused it—me?" Frank muttered.
"Bullet wound," Bill answered. "Your friend killed our guy. Tried to kill us too."
Bullet…? No one in my team uses a gun… Then who…? Who attacked after I passed out?
"Spike," Jack's calm voice spoke. The bald man's eyes met hers.
"Sir," she answered, regaining composure.
"I need you and Bill to wait outside," he said.
They obeyed, the gate sealing shut behind them.
The room quieted.
"Frank Onclave," Jack said, taking Bill's seat. "Good to see you… again."
"First off—what time is it? No windows down here…"
"Oh, right. That's because you're about sixteen feet underground. And it's nearing midday."
"Hard to escape, huh?" Frank muttered.
"Very. I'm a man of precautions," Jack smiled.
Frank shifted, uneasy.
"You said… again. I don't think we've met."
Jack nodded. "We have. Twice. Before I sent someone after you."
Frank's gaze sharpened.
"He didn't come back, but he fulfilled the mission."
"What mission?" Frank asked.
Jack stood and began pacing.
"The creation of a path… for the greater good to come."
Frank scoffed. "That's crap. You sound like an idiot."
Jack chuckled. "You ask a lot of questions. I like that. Okay—one more answer."
He stopped, facing Frank.
"I sent a man to kill you. Four years ago. And he did. Brutally. Shot you… multiple times. I saw the photos."
Frank's heart skipped.
"But… you came back. Haven't aged since. You look different, and your soul resonance is off. But you're still Frank Onclave."
"Sounds like a great story," Frank muttered. "But what now? Kill me again?"
Jack smirked. "No, no. No killing. Just… change of plans."
He stepped closer.
"We wouldn't want to harm a foreign soul, now would we?"
Frank froze.
What does he know?
Silence fell.
"You'd best buckle up, kid," Jack said, turning for the exit. "You've got work to do. Especially with how essential your skill is to us."
The guards opened the door. Jack stepped out into a corridor lit by orange orbs suspended on wires.
"Leader Jack?" Spike approached.
"Yes, my dear?"
Bill followed, uneasy.
"About what we said—" Spike began.
"I know," Jack cut her off.
"Then why—"
"We can't leave this area, Spike."
"Why not?! We need to recover Jarvis's corpse—"
"And how do you intend to do that, huh?! You losing it now because somebody died?" Jack snapped.
"He wasn't just somebody…" Bill said. "He was loyal. He was our friend."
"Friend?" Jack scoffed. "You're all expendable. It's all for the greater purpose. For Vance."
He paused.
"And Vance will reward his faithful. When this is all done."
Bill went silent. Spike looked down, fists clenched.
"She's not well," Jack murmured. "Put her back on track."
"She's not, Leader Jack," a new voice chimed in.
Astrid emerged from the shadows.
Jack smiled. "Astrid… my loyal soldier."
He turned to leave.
Spike stood there… frozen.
"Spike?" Bill called.
"You sure she's good?" Astrid asked.
Suddenly—
SQUICK!!!
Spike skidded forward, dashing past Bill toward Frank's cell.
"Aww c'mon!!" Bill shouted as he ran after her.
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