Bloody Odyssey

Chapter 57: Ai Lens.

Sitting in the room now thickly veiled by the fog of cigar smoke, Dax smiled faintly. The glowing tip of the blunt cast a soft orange light across his sharp features, cutting through the hazy air like a small ember in the night.

"This is a special cigar made from my own lab," he said, voice low and unhurried. He took another deliberate drag, letting the smoke roll out slowly from his lips. It mingled with the lingering scent of fine wine, creating a heady, almost intoxicating atmosphere that wrapped around everyone present.

"It might help stabilize you for now." Dax turned his full gaze to Zain, eyes steady and expectant. "I only answer two questions."

Zain felt the words land like a challenge. For a single heartbeat he was stunned—the strict limit catching him off guard. But the hesitation vanished almost instantly. His shoulders squared, and resolve hardened in his dark eyes. He met Dax's stare without flinching.

"What did you put inside me?" Zain asked. His voice came out steady, controlled, but when he glanced down at his own arms, they trembled visibly, betraying the storm inside. "I'm hearing voices."

Anastas's eyes widened in genuine shock. He leaned forward slightly, mouth parting as though to speak, but no words came. He hadn't expected Zain to voice this so openly—not here, not now.

Dax exhaled another slow, deliberate plume of smoke that drifted upward in lazy spirals. "Phernusslifcober. In short terms, I call it the Spraw Seed."

"I knew it!" Anastas burst out, unable to hold back any longer. "At first I wondered, but now I know." He shook his head slowly, disbelief and realization warring across his face. How is this even possible? The question echoed silently in his mind, heavy and insistent.

Dax's smile curved just a fraction wider—subtle, knowing. "You know what it is—or should I say, what it was."

Those few words were enough to drag Zain back instantly to that upsetting day. The memory flooded in sharp and vivid, unbidden and merciless: the cold pressure of Dax's hand, the seed being forced into his flesh, and above all, that same cold, evil smile on Dax's face as the full realization hit him like a hammer. Zain's breath caught in his throat; his fingers curled into fists on his knees.

"Is this a good thing… or is this bad?" Zain asked. Worry threaded through every syllable, raw and unguarded.

Dax's eyes turned icy in an instant, piercing straight into Zain with unnerving intensity. "Ooh."

The single syllable hung in the air. Zain felt the gaze sink deeper—not just looking at him, but into him. It was as though Dax's presence had slipped past skin, past muscle and bone, settling directly inside his very being. A cold pressure bloomed in his chest, spreading outward like frost on glass.

In the depths of Zain's core, a strange vision unfolded without warning. A massive lightning tree floated there—its thick trunk rooted in nothingness, branches spreading wide and wild, every limb crackling with electric arcs that snapped and hissed in silent fury. Before the tree hovered an illusory figure of Dax: calm, observant, almost luminous against the electric storm.

This is new, Dax thought to himself. He studied the projection of his own form for only a short moment before drifting closer, entering the core fully.

At the base of the core, the Tree stood tall and dominant, covering nearly half the glowing inner space. Lightning danced along every limb in powerful, rhythmic pulses—blue-white veins of energy that lit the darkness from within. Its roots plunged deep and firm, fused inseparably into the very foundation of Zain's core, as though they had always belonged there.

Dax hovered around the structure slowly, taking in every detail. Inerous, share your vision with me and take notes. There is a change.

Wow! Inerous responded, its voice tinged with genuine amazement. It began recording data with flawless efficiency—lines of glowing text scrolling across an invisible interface only Dax could see.

Master, see those tentacles at the center?

I see.

Dax withdrew smoothly from the inner vision and returned to the physical world, the transition seamless.

"The seed has germinated," he announced calmly, as though discussing the weather. "It's not harmful, as you can see—but I wouldn't classify you as human anymore."

Zain's eyes flew wide open. His breath came in short, shallow bursts. Anastas, beside him, fell completely silent. The weight of the revelation pressed down on both of them, thick and inescapable.

"If you remember our first meeting," Dax continued without pause, "I told you death has nothing to teach you. There is truth in that—the brink of death is your real teacher. And as the captain of this squad, I will take it upon myself to squeeze every last drop of that talent out of you."

He lifted his glass and took a slow, measured sip of wine. The rich liquid caught the light for a moment before disappearing behind his lips. "It's not just you. Everyone around me—we are at war, and we have to be prepared."

Zain and Anastas nodded in quiet agreement. The gravity of his words settled over them like a heavy mantle, impossible to shrug off. They felt it in their bones: this was no idle promise. Dax meant every syllable.

"Good." Dax reached forward and placed three small cases on the low table before them—three of them perfectly spherical, gleaming faintly under the ambient lights. "This is my first gift as captain to everyone."

"What are these?" Zain asked. Curiosity pushed past his earlier shock. He carefully lifted one of the spheres, turned it gently in his palm, feeling its cool, smooth surface. When he opened it, a few drops of clear liquid spilled out harmlessly. Inside rested a transparent, elevated surface—almost invisible circuit patterns shimmering across it like delicate veins of starlight.

"It's an AI lens," Dax explained. "It will help you." He raised his hand slightly; with a soft breath, the lens floated upward with perfect precision and slid straight into his right eye.

Zain instinctively clutched at his face, grunting from the brief, sharp sensation that flared behind his eye—intense but fleeting.

Brain synchrony 1%… Welcome, Master.

The words appeared directly in Zain's field of vision, glowing softly in crisp white text. He jumped back in his seat, heart hammering.

"Zain, be calm," Dax said evenly, voice carrying no trace of amusement or impatience.

Anastas watched the entire scene with wide, almost comical eyes. He was already holding his own lens carefully in his palm, turning it over as though afraid it might bite.

"Introduce yourself and give it a name," Dax instructed. "Doing so will grant it access to your brain. Think of it as your perfect assistant."

He paused for emphasis, letting the words sink in. "It is capable of many things. One of them involves stealing martial techniques. That's just one example."

"If you find it difficult at first, an aid bot can assist you," Dax added, nodding toward Anastas.

With a casual gesture, Dax opened a swirling black gate at the far end of the room—the exit from his private lab. Dark energy rippled around its edges like liquid shadow. "Familiarize yourself with your new toy."

Then he turned to Anastas. "Leave behind two of your undead. One should be that ghost thing. I don't care if the other is bone or zombie."

Anastas nodded without hesitation. He began to chant in a low, rhythmic voice. Dark energy gathered at his feet, swirling upward in tight spirals. First, a translucent wraith materialized—its form flickering like smoke caught in an invisible wind, hollow eyes glowing with faint sorrow. Then came the second creature, something Anastas did not summoned before: a hunched, sinewy ghoul with pallid skin stretched tight over sharp bones, claws scraping lightly against the floor.

"Captain, this is a ghoul," Anastas introduced them. Both creatures stood calm and still, though every so often the wraith let out a soft, sorrowful wail that echoed faintly through the luxurious room.

"Good." Dax stretched out his hand, offering Anastas one of the remaining cases. "This is the cigar I spoke about. Use it carefully."

He gestured to the wine bottles and the last lens still on the table. "Then give the wine and the remaining lens to Hanna. Consider it a token of my apology."

"Yes, Captain." Anastas saluted sharply, crisp and military. He stepped toward the black gate, paused for one last glance back at the room—then jumped through, vanishing into the swirling darkness.

The gate remained open for a moment longer, its edges pulsing softly.

"You have one more question." Dax smiled.