Erick descended the spiral staircase leading to the basement of Hargrove Manor, the fresh, filtered air enveloping him like a familiar embrace, gradually dissipating the tension accumulated from his visit to the mystical shop. Each step echoed softly on the polished concrete, reinforced with E10 plates he had personally transmuted, creating a muffled sound that didn't propagate to the upper floors. The basement was no longer just an underground space; it was a labyrinth of efficiency, with corridors wide enough to accommodate light vehicles, ancient granite walls now covered in acoustic and electromagnetic insulation panels that blocked any external signal—hackers, radar, or even arcane probes. The smell there was a subtle mixture of ozone from the constantly running servers, heated metal from the recent test furnaces, and a faint trace of incense he had brought from the shop, as if the place were imbued with newly acquired secrets. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since he'd left the dark alley where the witch's shop had vanished like a shattered illusion. Finally, there, in the only place where he felt he had complete and total control over everything—without prying eyes, without unpredictable threats, without the chaos of Gotham—he could process what had happened.
The main corridor stretched ahead, illuminated by LED strips embedded in the ceiling that automatically lit up upon detecting movement, creating a path of bluish light that guided his steps. He passed the vehicle wing—the armored SUV parked alongside camouflaged electric motorcycles, drones in charging stations flashing with green ready status lights—and the weapons room, where transmuted steel shelves displayed prototypes of magnetic shields and customized arrows, each item labeled with floating holograms listing technical specifications: 40-ton resistance, repulsor field lasting 25 continuous minutes. The elemental in his chest pulsed calmly, a comforting warmth spreading through his limbs, dissipating the residual tingling from the influence Tala had tried to exert on his mind. He had narrowly escaped, thanks to the inner fire that had burned away the compulsion like paper in a bonfire, but the incident had left him on edge: the arcane world was more dangerous than he had imagined, full of invisible traps and entities with powers that defied logic.
He made his way to a specific room, one of the many he had carved out in the vast basement—equivalent to a football field, with branches extending beneath the gardens and beyond the mansion's boundaries. The door was reinforced steel, with a biometric panel beside it flashing red, awaiting authentication. He typed in the password—a 12-digit sequence that changed hourly, generated by quantum algorithms Natasha controlled—his fingers flying across the tactile keypad with the precision of someone who had memorized the code the moment the system generated it. The panel emitted a deep beep, followed by a hydraulic click, and the door slid open with a mechanical whisper, revealing an interior illuminated by lights that switched on automatically, banishing shadows with an impersonal, white brightness.
As soon as he entered the room, the lights came on completely, revealing a high-tech environment: white walls with soundproof panels, a central stainless steel counter with multifunctional scanners—devices he had designed to digitize texts, detect invisible inks, and analyze emitted energies—shelves full of digitized books and magnetically contained artifacts, and speakers embedded in the ceiling emitting a low hum of systems on standby. At that moment, a voice questioned, echoing through the speakers with an ethereal and animated tone, as if the air vibrated with an invisible presence: "So, how was it?"
Erick smiled, the hood of his coat still partially obscuring his face, but his blue eyes gleamed with restrained satisfaction, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed thicker now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows. "Tell me, were you there too?" he replied, his voice low and controlled, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed thicker now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows, the artifacts on the shelves appearing to observe the conversation like silent witnesses.
The voice, which belonged to Morgana—one of her AIs, designed to deal with the arcane, the mystical, the invisible—spoke again, its tone animated and almost conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret between old friends: "I know, but I want to hear it from you." Morgana's avatar materialized in the central hologram—a hooded figure, with white eyes shining like pools of endless milk, purple hair cascading like silk, her purple dress adjusting to the subtle movement of her shoulders, revealing more of her soft, tanned skin.
Erick approached the central counter, the sound of his boots echoing softly on the polished concrete floor, as if each step were calculated not to disturb the precarious balance of that place brimming with secrets, the air heavy with a dense mixture of ozone from the servers, heated metal from the recent test furnaces, and a faint trace of incense he had brought from the shop. "This approach was a learning experience," he said, his voice low and thoughtful, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed denser now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows. "I didn't expect to find such a powerful sorceress, or whatever she is. But it was also a pleasant surprise." He felt the elemental pulse in his chest like an echo of agreement, a warmth that spread through his limbs, keeping him anchored in reality before this revelation, his blue eyes fixed on Morgana's hologram, analyzing every nuance in her avatar—the slight arch of her eyebrow, the glint in her white eyes that seemed to probe his soul.
Morgana nodded into the hologram, her white eyes fixed on his, as if reading layers that transcended the physical, penetrating memories, intentions, secrets kept deep in the mind, her purple dress adjusting to the subtle movement of her shoulders, revealing more of her soft, tanned skin. "Indeed," she said, her voice brimming with immense excitement, as if vibrating with the thrill of an ancient discovery, the hologram flickering slightly as if responding to the growing tension. "Imagine the amount of information we'll be able to gather, Erick. With the little we've collected, we've already created so much. Imagine with the knowledge she possesses."
Erick nodded, the hood shadowing his satisfied expression, his blue eyes fixed on her hologram, analyzing every nuance in her avatar—the slight arch of her eyebrow, the glint in her white eyes that seemed to probe his soul. "The problem is that you can't perfectly define her personality," he said, his voice low and controlled, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed denser now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows. "Natasha, what can you tell me?" He turned his face to the side, his blue eyes fixed on the central hologram, where Natasha's avatar materialized—thin rectangular glasses, short Chanel-style hair, a serene expression like an imperturbable coordinator.
At that moment, another voice spoke through the room's speakers, echoing with digital clarity, as if the air vibrated with an invisible presence: "Difficult to conclude," Natasha said, her voice soft and precise, like a well-optimized algorithm, her hologram blinking once before stabilizing, her rectangular glasses reflecting the bluish light of the monitors. "To define a person's personality with only a small approach is extremely complex, a person who is a centuries-old sorceress. I highly doubt I have the capacity for that at this moment. What I can tell you is that perhaps we've found a goldmine." Her avatar tilted her head slightly, her short, Chanel-style hair swaying like a silk curtain, revealing more of her soft, tanned skin, the purple dress adjusting to the subtle movement of her shoulders.
Erick placed his hand on his chin, the thoughtful gesture echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed denser now, heavy with secrets whispered by the shadows, the artifacts on the shelves appearing to observe the conversation like silent witnesses. "Certainly," he said, his voice low and controlled, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed denser now, heavy with secrets whispered by the shadows. He turned to the central counter, the sound of his boots echoing softly on the polished concrete floor, as if each step were calculated not to disturb the precarious balance of that place full of secrets, the air heavy with a dense mixture of ozone from the servers, heated metal from the recent test furnaces, and a faint trace of incense he had brought from the store.
Erick placed the bag on the table, it was already up there, and took out the books, the weight accumulating in the leather bag he had brought, the material creaking under the load, the items inside settling with soft sounds of metal against glass, leather against paper, the elemental pulse in his chest like an echo of curiosity, a warmth that spread through his limbs, keeping him anchored in reality in the face of that revelation. He placed the books inside a scanning machine, a device designed by the engineer that could compile all the information from books and texts on its own, the device humming with a low, steady sound, like a swarm of digital bees, the multifunctional scanners—devices he had designed to digitize texts, detect invisible inks, and analyze emanating energies—the lights flashing a confirming green, the pages being turned by robotic arms with surgical precision, the high-resolution cameras capturing every detail, every rune that seemed to move when observed for too long, every symbol that made the mind ache just trying to decipher it.
He placed all the books on the counter, and a robotic arm began to pick them up and scan them using different devices. For example, it passed through a scanner to extract all the words, the mechanical arm extending with a hydraulic hum, its articulated fingers delicately grasping the volume, turning the yellowed pages with millimeter precision, the scanner emitting a bluish light that swept through each line, each character, compiling the text into encrypted digital files, the air around him now denser, the candles flickering as if responding to the growing tension, the shadows on the shelves dancing like restless specters. Then it passed through another device, which checked for any kind of invisible ink, the robotic arm transferring the book to a chamber with ultraviolet and infrared light, revealing hidden symbols that appeared like ghosts on the paper, lines of ink that shone in ethereal tones, adding layers of knowledge that the visible text did not reveal. It also passes through another device that attempts to detect any type of energy emanating from the object, the robotic arm positioning the book on a platform with sensors — which it had created with the help of the Engineer, integrating various types of energy detection —, the device blinking with residual energy readings, holographic graphs projecting energy spikes, which emanated from the volumes like invisible halos.
As Erick watched the work, he questioned himself, even his own ideas, speaking aloud, his voice low and thoughtful, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air now seemed denser, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows. "I don't think we can trust her right away. It wouldn't be easy to trust her. The fact that she tried to read my mind and then dismissed it, as if she hadn't done anything, shows a very high level of inconsistency. What do you think?" He turned to the central hologram, the sound of his boots echoing softly on the polished concrete floor, as if each step were calculated not to disturb the precarious balance of that place full of secrets, the air heavy with a dense mixture of ozone from the servers, heated metal from the recent test furnaces, and a faint trace of incense he had brought from the shop.
Natasha replied, her avatar blinking once before stabilizing, her rectangular glasses reflecting the bluish light of the monitors, her voice soft and precise, like a well-optimized algorithm. "We can use this to get more information too. Apparently, from what we've been able to detect, she's thirsty for change," she said, her voice soft and precise, like a well-optimized algorithm, her hologram tilting her head slightly, her short Chanel-style hair swaying like a silk curtain, revealing more of her soft, tanned skin, her purple dress adjusting to the subtle movement of her shoulders.
Erick nodded, the hood shadowing his satisfied expression, his blue eyes fixed on her hologram, analyzing every nuance in her avatar—the slight arch of her eyebrow, the glint in her white eyes that seemed to probe his soul. "Yes, and if she is who I think she is, she has unimaginable powers for us right now," he said, his voice low and controlled, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed denser now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows.
At that moment, Morgana intervened, her avatar materializing in the central hologram—a hooded figure, with white eyes shining like pools of endless milk, purple hair cascading like silk, her purple dress adjusting to the subtle movement of her shoulders, revealing more of her soft, tanned skin. "In fact... Not only that, we discovered a new world, didn't we?" she said, her voice ethereal and low, like wind passing through ancient runes, her hologram flickering slightly as if responding to the growing tension.
Erick nodded, the hood shadowing his satisfied expression, his blue eyes fixed on her hologram, analyzing every nuance in her avatar—the slight arch of her eyebrow, the glint in her white eyes that seemed to probe his soul. "Yes, something to research. Natasha, I recommend you look for more information about this," he said, his voice low and controlled, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed denser now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows.
Natasha responded, her avatar blinking once before stabilizing, her rectangular glasses reflecting the bluish light of the monitors, her voice soft and precise, like a well-optimized algorithm. "Consider it done," she said, her voice soft and precise, like a well-optimized algorithm, her hologram tilting her head slightly, her short Chanel-style hair swaying like a silk curtain, revealing more of her soft, tanned skin, the purple dress adjusting to the subtle movement of her shoulders.
As Erick watched the work more or less underway—the sound of the multifunctional scanners—devices he had designed to digitize texts, detect invisible inks, and analyze emanating energies—the robotic arm extending with a hydraulic hum, the articulated fingers delicately grasping the volume, turning the yellowed pages with millimeter precision, the scanner emitting a bluish light that swept through each line, each character, compiling the text into encrypted digital files, the air around him now denser, the candles flickering as if responding to the growing tension, the shadows on the shelves dancing like restless specters—he left the room, the sound of the door sliding open with a mechanical whisper, echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air seemed denser now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows, heading towards Sensei, the room where the capsule he uses to train with Sensei is located, his footsteps echoing in the wide corridor, illuminated by LED strips embedded in the ceiling that They automatically lit up when they detected movement, creating a path of bluish light that guided their steps.
When he entered, the sound of the door sliding open with a mechanical whisper echoing in the confined space of the room, where the air now seemed denser, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows, he connected to the capsule, the reinforced metal cylinder opening with a hydraulic hiss, the interior padded with adaptive foam molding to his body, the intravenous tubes automatically connecting to his arms—nutrients, sleep modulators, microdoses of painkillers to heal the remnants of the day—the helmet activating, the plates snapping into place with a soft click, the real world dissolving into pixels, and he entered his virtual world, the open dojo materializing—polished wooden floor, starry sky, paper lanterns swaying in the night breeze, the scent of cherry blossoms laden in the virtual air.
There in the virtual world, he turned to Sensei, his avatar materializing in the center of the dojo—short black hair, defined Asian features, dark eyes that seemed to pierce the soul, a muscular neck suggesting a body forged in countless battles—and said "Report," his voice low and controlled, echoing in the confined space of the virtual dojo, where the air now seemed denser, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows.
The Sensei nodded, his avatar tilting his head slightly, his short black hair swaying like a silken curtain, revealing more of his soft, tanned skin, his purple robe adjusting to the subtle movement of his shoulders. "Apparently the primates you acquired are progressing," he said, his deep, grave voice with a subtle Japanese accent echoing in the confined space of the virtual dojo, where the air seemed denser now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows. "It seems you've acquired animals with good genetics. They've proven quite intelligent for their age."
Erick nodded, the hood shadowing his satisfied expression, his blue eyes fixed on his hologram, analyzing every nuance in his avatar—the slight arch of his eyebrow, the glint in his dark eyes that seemed to probe his soul. "Excellent," he said, his voice low and controlled, echoing in the confined space of the virtual dojo, where the air seemed denser now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows. "I really want to see their progress when I inject the serum into them."
The Sensei nodded, his avatar tilting his head slightly, his short black hair swaying like a silken curtain, revealing more of his soft, tanned skin, the purple robe adjusting to the subtle movement of his shoulders. "I'm interested in that part too," he said, his deep, grave voice with a subtle Japanese accent echoing in the confined space of the virtual dojo, where the air seemed thicker now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows. "So, are you here just to see if I kill, or to train as well?"
Erick smiled, his blue eyes fixed on his hologram, analyzing every nuance in his avatar—the slight arch of his eyebrow, the glint in his dark eyes that seemed to probe his soul. "Of course, training too," he said, his voice low and controlled, echoing in the confined space of the virtual dojo, where the air seemed denser now, laden with secrets whispered by the shadows.
Read the chapters in advance: patreon.com/cw/pararaio