Project:Imagine

The gymnasium was filled with quiet tension as the clock inched toward 6:59. The class waited in anticipation and boredom, the air thick with the expectation of Maxwell’s arrival. Ivan sat perched on a coffin, idly summoning and dismissing objects crafted from bones, his fingers dancing with the eerie precision of his ability. Beside him, the twins, Sarah, and the now-recovered Emily, engaged in an endless game of rock-paper-scissors. No matter how many rounds they played, their minds were so in sync that neither could claim victory, the game devolving into a ritual of frustration.

Ashe, ever vigilant, kept a close watch on his sisters, ensuring their mischief remained at bay. His eyes flicked between them and the room, a silent guardian prepared to intervene at the first sign of trouble. Rook, leaning against the wall, was engrossed in a well-worn book, flipping through the pages with a practiced ease. The story—a predictable tale of an orphan discovering his destiny as the chosen one—barely held his interest, but it was enough to pass the time. Cynthia, sprawled on the floor beside him, had spun a soft blanket from her webs, her eyes drooping as she listened to Rook’s monotonous reading, the words lulling her into a state of near-sleep.

Noah continued his stretches, unable to sit still, his muscles tense with nervous energy. Every second that ticked by heightened his anxiety, his senses attuned to the faintest sounds around him. He strained to catch any sign of movement or a footstep approaching the gymnasium doors. The whole class was on edge, each dealing with the wait in their own way, but all sharing the same underlying question, where was Maxwell, and why was he keeping them waiting?

“Where is he, I’m so bored, you don't think he chickened out of the fight, right?” Cynthia complained.

“Be patient, I’ve noticed he’s been training hard lately and rapidly improving, there's no way someone like that would simply run away,” Ivan said reassuringly.

At 7:00, The silence was broken by the sudden, jarring sound of an explosion elsewhere in the facility. The blast reverberated through the building, shattering the reinforced doors and allowing a chaotic swarm of invaders to flood in.

The intruders came in waves, a mix of heavily armed operatives, Awakened individuals, and twisted hybrids from the Beta facility. In total five individuals seemed much more powerful than the others. Each individual had their own sinister presence.

Leading the charge was a formidable man whose muscular frame was adorned with crimson tattoos, swirling like thorny vines across his body. His left arm was a sophisticated prosthetic, seamlessly blending with his flesh to enhance his mechanical prowess. His head, resembling a black crow with beady, penetrating eyes, was either a mask or his actual visage, an unsettling sight that exuded menace.

Trailing behind him was a woman draped in a flowing black dress that sparkled like a starlit sky. The dress seemed to ripple with an otherworldly grace as she moved, its shimmering fabric catching the light in a mesmerizing dance. Her wings, once black but now painted white, were a stark and eerie contrast to her otherwise dark attire. The halo perched atop her head was wired to a headband. Her long, blonde hair framed a face marked by piercing green eyes, eyes that seemed to hold a mixture of cold calculation and unsettling calmness.

Next to her was a cloaked figure whose maroon cloak swirled ominously with each step. The cloak was a deep, rich color, almost as if it absorbed the surrounding light, creating an aura of secrecy. Their face was hidden behind a smiley face mask, which seemed to mock the very gravity of the situation. Beneath the cloak, a sleek black ensemble clung to their form, with various knives strapped to their belt. Each blade glinted with a deadly promise, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.

On the other side stood a man whose appearance was as vibrant as it was menacing. His hair was a wild, spiky green that seemed to defy gravity, complementing his intense purple eyes that sparkled with an almost feral gleam. His face was adorned with an assortment of piercings, each adding to his edgy, unpredictable appearance. A large scorpion tail, its segmented segments moving with a life of their own, extended from his back, adding an extra layer of menace. He wore a black suit with a purple tie, an irregular choice that did little to diminish the aura of danger he exuded. In his hand, he carried a briefcase, its contents hidden but undoubtedly crucial to his mission.

Finally, completing this disturbing lineup was a girl with long, wavy light blue hair that cascaded down her back like a flowing river. Her striking red eyes were a sharp contrast to her otherwise serene appearance. She wore a long, light blue dress that flowed elegantly around her, with each step accentuated by the click of her red heels. Clutched in one hand was a teddy bear, an inconsistent companion to her otherwise unsettling demeanor, and in her mouth, she leisurely licked a lollipop, the image of innocence juxtaposed with the violence that surrounded her.

The announcement over the facility's intercom only added to the tension “All students, hide within your dorms. If you are out in the open, proceed to the nearest designated bunker. All agents, intruders have broken in; prepare for combat at the entrance elevator.”

The intruders moved swiftly, their steps silent and purposeful as they reached the elevator leading down into the heart of the facility. With practiced precision, they retrieved a series of explosive artificial artifacts, each one brimming with destructive energy. They methodically placed the devices along the elevator's structural points, and with a synchronized nod, triggered the detonation.

The metallic groan of the elevator giving way echoed through the shaft as it plummeted, crashing violently into the bottom floor with a deafening roar. Smoke and debris billowed out, shrouding the intruders as they leaped into the void, descending rapidly down the now-destroyed elevator shaft.

They landed with fluid grace, quickly dispersing into the shadows before the facility's agents could converge. Moving like phantoms through the smoke, they split into smaller groups, vanishing into the labyrinthine corridors, ready to execute their mission before a full response could be mounted.

The gymnasium was plunged into chaos as the sudden announcement blared through the speakers, jolting the students into a state of shock. Panic washed over them like a tidal wave, with only Ivan remaining calm amidst the turmoil. While his face remained composed, his eyes narrowed as he took stock of the situation, mentally calculating their odds.

"What a nuisance," Ivan muttered under his breath. His tone remained even, though a sharp edge of irritation was apparent. "Listen up, kids. I don’t know where Maxwell is, but we’re staying here. I’ll defend you, so don’t do anything reckless. Got it?" His voice carried an authority that left no room for argument.

The students nodded, their fear momentarily subsiding as they placed their trust in Ivan. However, their fragile sense of security was shattered just moments later when the gymnasium doors were violently kicked open.

The man with green hair and a menacing scorpion tail strode into the room, his eyes scanning the gathered students with predatory intent. His gaze was cold, calculating—searching for someone specific.

"What a fucking pain," Scorpian growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "He’s not here, but I guess I can at least kill one of the high-priority targets." The way he spoke was casual, almost bored, as if murder was merely an inconvenience in his day.

Ivan's irritation flared. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn’t use such foul language in front of the kids," he snapped, rising from his seat on the coffin. His voice was calm, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

The intruder sneered, clearly unfazed by Ivan’s words. "Ahem, fuck off. Oops, did I curse again? Now what will you do, you damned bastard?" His scorpion tail lashed out behind him, a clear indication of his readiness for violence.

Ivan’s eyes narrowed to slits, his annoyance deepening into something far more dangerous. Without a word, the ground beneath the intruder trembled as massive bone spikes erupted from the floor, aiming to impale him. Scorpian barely managed to dodge, his movements quick but not without effort. As he evaded, more weapons materialized in the air, spears, swords, and daggers, all crafted from the very bones Ivan commanded. Each weapon floated ominously, their sharpened points aimed directly at their target.

"Don't expect a painless death," Ivan said coldly, his voice now carrying a lethal promise. The room seemed to chill as he unleashed his deadly barrage, his bone-crafted arsenal homing in on the intruder with unyielding precision.

Scorpion's eyes widened as the bone weapons lunged toward him with lethal precision. He twisted his body with fluid, almost unnatural grace, narrowly evading a bone spear aimed at his heart. The air around him buzzed with the whoosh of blades and spikes as he ducked, sidestepped, and somersaulted through the onslaught. Each near miss only seemed to fuel his adrenaline, his scorpion tail snapping back and forth defensively.

"You're quicker than you look, old man," Scorpion taunted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he dodged another volley of bone-crafted weapons. "But you're still just a second-rate babysitter."

Ivan’s expression remained stony, but his eyes sharpened as he intensified his attack. The bone spikes now erupted faster, their tips aimed to corner Scorpion and leave no room for escape. The weapons that missed their mark embedded themselves in the gym’s walls and floor, transforming the space into a deadly forest of bone.

"Your arrogance will be your downfall," Ivan replied icily, his voice calm as ever. He raised a hand, and a particularly large bone spear shot forward, aimed directly at Scorpion's head. "I’ve dealt with plenty like you, reckless, overconfident, and ultimately doomed."

But Scorpion was already in motion, twisting his body mid-air with an inhuman dexterity. He narrowly avoided the spear, his scorpion tail coiling like a spring as he prepared to strike. "You talk too much, old man," he growled, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

As the bone weapons continued their relentless pursuit, Scorpion suddenly shifted tactics. Instead of purely evading, he began to weave closer to Ivan, dodging the attacks by the slimmest margins, closing the distance between them inch by inch. Ivan’s eyes narrowed, sensing the change but confident in his assault. He sent a final wave of bone spikes, all converging on Scorpion at once.

But Scorpion was ready. With a burst of speed, he dodged to the side, using the momentum to propel himself directly toward Ivan. His movements were a blur, every muscle coiled like a spring, propelling him forward with deadly precision. Before the older man could fully react, Scorpion’s tail shot out like a viper, its barbed tip aimed squarely at Ivan’s neck. The impact was swift and brutal, the tail piercing through with a sickening crunch.

Scorpion’s lips curled into a victorious grin as he watched Ivan stagger, expecting to see the life drain from his eyes. "See? You’re not so tough after all," he sneered, leaning in close as if to savor his triumph. "You should’ve stayed out of my way."

But his gloating was cut short when he noticed something alarming—there wasn’t a single drop of blood. The look of triumph on Scorpion’s face twisted into one of shock and disbelief. Ivan, still standing tall, reached up calmly, gripping the tail embedded in his neck. His fingers closed around the barbed end with iron strength, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled it free.

Scorpion’s eyes widened in horror as Ivan casually crushed the tail in his hand, the bones snapping like twigs beneath his grip. He didn’t bleed. He didn’t falter. Instead, Ivan’s expression remained cold and unreadable as he shoved Scorpion back, sending him stumbling several feet away.

"What the hell are you?" Scorpion spat, his voice laced with a rare note of fear as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. His mind raced, trying to make sense of how his lethal strike had been rendered utterly useless.

Ivan’s gaze remained steady, his voice calm and authoritative. "Children, please look away," he instructed, not taking his eyes off Scorpion for a second. "What’s about to happen can be rather frightening the first time you see it."

Scorpion’s mind whirled as he watched the children obediently turn away, their trust in Ivan unwavering. The older man’s composure was unnerving, his aura growing more menacing with each passing second. Scorpion felt a chill creep up his spine as Ivan took a step forward, the air around him seeming to grow heavier, and darker.

Ivan’s expression remained eerily calm as he reached up, his fingers brushing against the skin of his face. The children, now safely turned away, were spared the gruesome sight that was about to unfold. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to tug at the flesh, his movements almost gentle, as if peeling back the layers of a delicate mask.

The skin stretched unnaturally, the fabric of humanity unraveling as Ivan continued to pull, his hand moving steadily downward. The tearing sound that followed was sickening, the kind of noise that sent shivers down the spine and stirred primal fears buried deep within. As the skin finally ripped away, it revealed the truth beneath, the hollow sockets of a skeletal face, empty and soulless, yet somehow more terrifying in its stark simplicity.

Ivan discarded the tattered remains of his former visage, letting the false skin drop to the floor like a discarded garment. His skeletal face, now fully exposed, was a ghastly sight. The bone gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, devoid of any trace of life, yet brimming with a silent, ancient power. He moved with purpose, the skeletal structure of his head and neck stark against the eerie glow of the gymnasium lights.

Next, Ivan turned his attention to his hands. The gloves that had once concealed them were now unnecessary, a flimsy barrier between his true form and the world. He slowly removed them, one finger at a time, until the gloves fell away, revealing the skeletal hands beneath. Each bone was perfectly preserved, the joints moving with the fluidity of a living being, yet with the cold precision of death itself.

He flexed his fingers, the bones clicking softly with the motion, a sound that echoed ominously in the silent gym. The revelation of his true form sent a wave of terror rippling through the air, a reminder that the man they had seen moments before was merely a facade. He was not human, not in the way others were. He was a skeleton, an entity beyond life and death, standing as a harbinger of the inevitable end that awaited all.

The revelation struck Scorpion like a physical blow. He recoiled, his earlier bravado crumbling in the face of this unearthly sight. The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening as Ivan’s skeletal form fully emerged, a chilling testament to the fact that death itself had taken a human guise.

Ivan, now stripped of his false skin, stood tall and unyielding, a being who had shed the trappings of mortality to reveal the raw, unvarnished truth. He was only a skeleton, but one that radiated an indomitable presence, as if he had stepped out of the forgotten legends to remind the living of the power that lay beyond the grave.

Ivan’s voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of menace that sent shivers through the room. “All right, you can all look now,” he said, his tone deceptively calm. “Just don’t be too alarmed.”

As the children slowly turned their gazes back, their shock was palpable. The sight of Ivan’s skeletal form, though unusual, seemed oddly fitting given the strangeness of the Beta Facility. Yet, it was still an unsettling revelation.

“I am the king of the undead, a lich,” Ivan began, his voice carrying an echo of ancient power. “A few years back, around thirty-two, I fought against the leader of A.E.G.I.S. With my undead army at my command, I believed I stood a chance. But it was a one-sided battle. He defeated me single-handedly, yet instead of destroying me, he offered me a position to work for him. What an odd human, offering a monster a job,” Ivan chuckled darkly, the sound a rasping echo in the cold, sterile air.

Scorpion, taken aback by the revelation, stood rigidly, his mind racing to adjust to the new reality. He knew he needed to act, to overcome this formidable foe.

Ivan’s gaze turned cold, his expression hardening. “Now, I’ve asked you repeatedly to cease your profanity, yet you persisted. For that, I will kill you and leave no traces.” His voice dropped to a chilling whisper as he walked toward his coffin.

The coffin was an ancient relic, its surface a foreboding black stone, weathered and cracked, etched with intricate, arcane symbols that pulsed with a faint, eerie red glow. The stone seemed to ooze an unsettling aura of dread, with deep, rust-colored stains hinting at centuries of dark history. Numerous golden chains, tarnished with age, bound the coffin, their presence a grim reminder of the power contained within.

Ivan approached the coffin with deliberate, measured steps. His bony fingers extended, morphing into a key with a metallic glint. He inserted it into the lock and turned with a smooth, deliberate motion. The lid creaked open, revealing a pool of blood within. The blood was dark and thick, swirling with an almost sentient malice. Small, incomprehensible screams echoed faintly from the depths of the pool, an unsettling chorus that added to the oppressive atmosphere.

“It’s time,” Ivan declared, his voice carrying a tone of finality. “Artifact 0-1, Blood of the Dead God.”

As he spoke, the air around the coffin seemed to grow colder, the scent of iron growing stronger. The children shivered, their faces pale with a mix of fear and awe. Ivan’s skeletal hand hovered over the pool of blood, a dark promise of what was to come.

"In my opinion, among every artifact in this world, this one alone stands as the strongest," Ivan said with a calm certainty as he dipped his skeletal hand into the pool of blood.

The moment his hand touched the blood, it began to disintegrate, the bones crumbling into dust as he pushed his arm deeper until it was submerged halfway to his elbow. The blood within the coffin began to violently shake and bubble, as if awakening from a deep slumber. Then, with a sudden surge, a handle made of interlocking bones emerged from the depths, dripping with the thick, dark liquid. As Ivan pulled his arm free, the blood was swiftly absorbed into the handle, leaving only the bone-crafted grip resting in the center of the coffin. He grasped it, and as he did, the air around him grew thick with the weight of a thousand voices, each one screaming in his mind. Unlike before, he could now clearly understand their words, a cacophony of anguish and despair.

"Now, children," Ivan began, his voice steady as he addressed the class, seemingly oblivious to the battle at hand, "when engaging in combat, it is wise to use artifacts in conjunction with your natural abilities. Artifacts are graded on a scale from 0 to 4, with grade 0 representing cataclysmic power and grade 4 being rather mundane, holding little significance. We also have artificial artifacts, which generally don’t exceed grade 2, but they can still be quite useful."

The children listened intently, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. Even in the midst of danger, Ivan took the time to educate them, his tone more like a teacher giving a lesson than a warrior preparing for battle.

“Um, sir, what about your hand?” Cynthia asked, her voice small and trembling.

Ivan glanced at the stump where his hand had once been. "Some artifacts, especially those of higher grades, come with a price. Typically, they exact a toll on your sanity, which can eventually lead to madness. This one is actually quite mild in that regard; it only costs you an arm with each use. I wouldn’t recommend using it unless you possess powerful regenerative abilities. Fortunately, one of my own powers allows me to manipulate and create bones, and since I am made of bones..." Ivan trailed off as his missing arm began to regrow, the bones knitting together with an almost effortless speed until his skeletal hand was fully restored.

Scorpion stood frozen, utterly dumbfounded. First, this man revealed himself as a lich, then he casually produced not just any grade 0 artifact, but the very first one ever in existence, Artifact 0-1, a relic whispered about in the darkest corners of the world. Most artifacts were numbered according to their discovery, but the first five were believed to predate the world itself, recorded in the Bookkeeper's records. And now, Ivan, with complete disregard for the enemy standing right in front of him, was calmly explaining the intricacies of artifact use to a group of children.

The anger that fueled Scorpion’s charge was palpable, a fierce and desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of control over the battle. The blatant disregard Ivan had shown him, the nonchalant way he had addressed the children while wielding a weapon of unspeakable power, drove Scorpion to the edge of madness. His movements were a blur, his body fueled by pure adrenaline. As he surged forward, his hands morphed into massive pincers, razor-sharp and ready to crush his foe.

But Ivan didn’t even flinch. He didn’t need to. Without turning to face Scorpion, the artifact in his hand responded to the threat with an almost sentient fury. The blood that had been absorbed into the bone handle surged forth like a living entity, moving with a speed and precision that defied comprehension. In an instant, the blood formed a blade, severing Scorpion's right arm from his body with a clean, decisive cut. The momentum of his charge carried him forward a few steps before the pain registered, a searing, white-hot agony that tore through him, forcing a scream from his lips.

Scorpion stumbled back, clutching the stump where his arm had been, blood pouring from the wound. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the severed limb twitch on the ground, still clutching the pincer that had been meant to end Ivan's life. But the horror didn't end there. The blood from Ivan’s artifact descended upon the fallen arm like a predator, enveloping it in a crimson sheath. Before Scorpion could react, the blood began to bubble and hiss, the flesh and bone disintegrating into nothingness before his eyes, leaving only a dark stain on the ground where the arm had once been.

Ivan finally turned his head, his skeletal face betraying no emotion as he observed the dismembered Scorpion. There was no satisfaction in his gaze, no gloating over the pain he had inflicted. To Ivan, this was simply the natural order of things, a reminder that those who defied him, who ignored his warnings, would pay the ultimate price.

Scorpion’s remaining arm trembled as he tried to steady himself, but the pain and the shock were too much. He stared at Ivan, eyes wide with disbelief and terror. The once arrogant, foul-mouthed intruder now stood broken and bleeding, his confidence shattered by the sheer power and precision of Ivan’s attack.

Ivan, his skeletal form casting a chilling shadow across the gymnasium, took a step closer to the defeated intruder. The coldness in his gaze was unrelenting, his voice like the death knell of a funeral bell. "Would you like to know the reason this facility has so few high-leveled members?" Ivan's tone was calm, almost conversational, yet it dripped with an underlying menace that sent a shiver down Scorpion's spine. "It’s because there is no greater security than me."

Scorpion’s eyes widened further as the weight of Ivan’s words sank in. The realization that he had underestimated this place, he underestimated him, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Every drop of arrogance, every ounce of bravado that had fueled his attack, was now nothing more than a distant memory, replaced by a gnawing dread that threatened to consume him whole.

Ivan leaned in slightly, his skeletal face mere inches from Scorpion’s paling complexion. "Now," he continued, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "how about our next lesson be in the manners you so desperately need to learn?"