Observation Deck – Monitors and records internal and external threats to the Center.

The room was sterile, suffocatingly bright, yet not a single soul inside felt warmth. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly, like a dying insect trapped in the jaws of a silent predator.

Before a wall of monitors, each one flickering with distorted feeds of grim tunnels and blood-slick chambers, stood a man.

He was tall, cloaked in a tailored coat of imperial black with gold trim. His beard was thick, lion-like—a mane carved from rusted bronze, and he leaned on a walking stick inlaid with gold filigree, topped by the sculpted head of a snarling lion.

He said nothing for a moment—his eyes fixed on Monitor 13, which showed six 

children crawling like vermin through the dark. Luke's "Pack."

Their eyes twitched at every movement. Their steps, careful. Their youth, already wrinkled with trauma.

"Where are those beasts now?"

The man's voice was soft, but carried weight. Like a knife gliding across silk.

A soldier—dressed entirely in black with a crimson-trimmed visor and a blinking headset—snapped to attention.

"Sir! All three specimens are currently at the core zone. Two in Yellow State, one in Orange. They remain active."

Next to the monitors was a wall of numbers.

Each number pulsed faintly, coded by color:

Red – dead.

Yellow – injured but still breathing.

Orange – dying.

Green – alive.

The bearded man nodded once, slowly.

"As expected. The plan unfolds. But..."

His voice wavered—only slightly.

"The Opener—he still breathes. He has even formed a unit. Fascinating. Tell me again… Why was he the one chosen to open the Brawl?"

The soldier hesitated. Then, recited as if from a report memorized under threat of death:

"Sir. Both Openers were selected for peak viability. 000002, the one who failed, was the highest-rated child among the intake. He was the son of a war hero—the 'Flagbearer of the North'. This knight led the forces of Imperium Solis to absolute victory in their northern purges. Enemy forces were reduced to ash. Their losses? Minimal."

He swallowed.

"The Flagbearer then wed a woman from one of the Ten Noble Families, believed to be from House Eldric, known for their knightly lineage and the motto 'Lead with Light'. But the Flagbearer changed. After 

the war, he declined—mentally fractured, physically ruined, arrogant beyond measure. He insulted the court, nobles, even the throne itself. The king and queen of Imperium Solis exiled him. A disgrace."

He paused for breath.

"He vanished with his son. Rumors claim he was later butchered by glory-seeking criminals. 000002 survived, returned to his mother. But she—"

The soldier clenched his teeth.

"—she sold him. To preserve her image. A noble house cannot be seen mothering a defect."

The bearded man's brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

"A merchant bought the boy and delivered him to us. He was supposed to be the star of the Brawl. His legacy carried weight. But then came 000001…"

The man turned, his cane tapping once against the tile.

"Yes... him."

The soldier nodded, hesitant now.

"He was a dying boy. No records. No past. Found unconscious at the center of a crater, his body riddled with scars and anomalies. We only included him to increase body count. But... he changed. Suddenly, vitality surged through him. His combat style—precise, brutal—was unlike anything seen in one so young. He fought 

like a seasoned veteran."

"He beat 000002. Then survived the Trial. We sent 000002 to the experimentation sector like the rest of the defects. He's survived two trials so far... currently in Yellow."

A stillness passed between them.

Then the bearded man asked, almost casually:

"The beasts... are they natural?"

The soldier's visor shifted slightly. Then, a whisper.

"No, sir. They were once children."

// FLASHBACK: Genesis of the Beasts

The screen on Monitor 17 flickered—then went black.

Then it played back footage.

Grainy. Distorted.

Footage that should never have existed.

The Blood Brawl Pit.

Corpses littered the ground. Small hands twisted at unnatural angles. Limbs bent backwards. The red-soaked sand didn't seem to dry—ever.

A voice spoke from the intercom in the footage:

"Collect the failures."

The footage cuts.

Darkness. Then light.

Surgical tables. Rows of children strapped down, twitching, screaming, or dead. 

Dozens of scientists moved mechanically.

They severed limbs, scooped out organs, stitched torsos together with thick wire. No anesthesia. No sedation. Only silence, broken by gurgles and moans.

Then came the injection.

A thick black-red fluid. Pulsating in its vial.

Orc blood.

Mixed with unknown agents.

The moment it touched flesh, the bodies spasmed. Eyes rolled back. Muscles bulged and twisted. Flesh fused with flesh, some bones turned to blades, others to sludge.

And then… it spoke.

Or rather… they screamed together.

"HUNGRY."

On a screen was a description of each beast.

 File name

The Three Beasts

The Maw

A bloated, serpentine mass of fused torsos, all writhing and twitching. Its central head is made of four skulls fused together, the jaw unhinged and filled with jagged children's teeth—hundreds of them.

Trails torn intestines behind it like robes.Emits a sound like infants crying and bones snapping at once.Hunts by mimicking the voices of children.
The Tower

Stands nearly three meters tall. Composed of stacked, fused bodies, their arms reaching out in every direction. Its legs are broken but supported by metallic rods jammed through bone.

Faces twitch constantly, whispering names of children it has killed.Its right arm is a blade of calcified femurs.Moves slowly, but emits a psionic scream that induces madness if stared at too long.
The Veil

The most human-looking—a slender figure cloaked in stretched skin like a shawl. Its face is missing, replaced with a reflective surface that shows the viewer's own death.

Moves silently. Hangs in corners like a spider.
Its fingers end in needle-like claws from different children.It doesn't eat. It collects bones. Builds tiny effigies of the children it kills.

"And that," said the soldier, "was the result of their creation."

The bearded man turned away. His expression was neutral. His hands steady.

But inside—

THESE PEOPLE ARE MONSTERS. They've built a temple of horror in the name of PRIDE. They've turned children into currency. Into soldiers. Into THINGS. What have I done? What have I—

He blinked.

A memory rose.

That merchant—his friend—grinning like a madman.

"We all had the dream! Some saw power, some knowledge... but we all saw 'Pride'. So we came South! To chase it! To become it!"

He had lied then. Said he'd seen the dream too. He hadn't.

He only smelled profit.

But now I smell blood. And burning. And I'm stuck. If I leave this place... they won't just kill me. They'll make me one of those fucking beasts.

His hand gripped the lion-headed cane tighter.

I want to leave. But even death won't set me free.