Part 12 – The Living Weapon

The spidery, multi-limbed bio-harvester whirred, its array of gleaming needles descending toward the terrified, helpless Sheral Crimea. Strapped to the cold examination table, she turned her head, her gaze falling one last time on the inert artifacts floating in their containment field across the lab. Her heart cried out in a desperate, hopeless wish, a silent plea for the miracle she had witnessed in the Grand Plaza. But they remained dark, and the machine moved closer.

“Begin the genetic sequencing and tissue extraction,” Warlord Xarthos commanded, his voice calm and clinical.

Sheral squeezed her eyes shut as the first needle, cold and sharp, descended and pierced the skin of her arm.

The moment it broke her skin, her very blood, the blood of the Crimea clan, cried out in a silent, psychic scream of distress—a primal signal of violation that the Null-Harmonizer was not designed to block.

The artifacts responded. The dull red gems ignited with the light of a furious, newborn star.

“What?!” Xarthos spun from his console, his scientific calm shattering. An alarm blared. “Report! What is that energy spike?!”

An acolyte, his face pale with terror, pointed a trembling finger. “It’s the artifacts, Lord Xarthos! They’re overloading the containment field!”

“Impossible! The Null field is absolute!” Xarthos roared in a panic. “Reinforce it! Double the power now!”

But it was too late. The crimson light within the gems burned with the intensity of a sun, and the containment field cracked, then shattered with a deafening explosion of energy.

“It’s breached! Get back!” Xarthos yelled, shoving his acolytes aside.

The freed artifacts became two comets of pure, vengeful crimson energy. They shot across the lab, circled the examination table once in a possessive, protective orbit, and then slammed into place on Sheral’s body.

The transformation was a spectacle of divine rebirth.

A tidal wave of pure, warm, crimson light erupted from the gems. The light washed over her body, starting from her feet and ascending in a glorious, healing wave. As it passed, the dark bruises on her skin vanished, the bloody gash on her arm sealed without a scar, and the dirt and grime from her battle were vaporized, leaving her flawless skin glowing with a soft, divine luminescence.

The tattered remains of her old costume dissolved into motes of light. A new, perfect uniform was woven around her from the light itself. The knee-high, soft-soled red boots formed around her perfect feet. The high-cut tight red tunic clung to her breathtaking form, and the long sleeves encased her powerful arms. Finally, the red mask settled over her eyes. With the power, a new presence flooded her mind: a silent, reassuring, and fiercely protective intelligence from the artifacts themselves. They had evolved.

She rose from the examination table, the magnetized shackles shattering into pieces around her. She floated a few inches off the floor, a vision of absolute, stunning beauty and terrifying power, her hazel eyes now glowing with a crimson fire.

Xarthos stared, his scientific hubris completely annihilated, his face a mask of utter disbelief. “No… my data… my experiment…” he stammered. “It’s… it’s impossible…”

Before he could finish his thought, Sheral moved. She crossed the length of the ruined laboratory in a flash of motion too fast for the eye to track and delivered a devastating push against his chest.

The sound was like a thunderclap. Xarthos was thrown backward like a doll, smashing into his main console in a massive shower of sparks and exploding hardware. He collapsed to the floor in a heap, groaning, his main console cracked and smoking.

Sheral hovered over him, the fury of a betrayed goddess radiating from her. The experiment was over.

“Now, Xarthos,” she said, her voice low and filled with a terrible, newfound power. “The lesson begins.”