Chapter 12

Shattered limbs and debris littered the floor inside the cold, vast silver-white experimentation chamber. There was blood everywhere—light-blue liquid pooled to form puddles, making the floor look like a broken reservoir. No trace of a humanoid form could be discerned from the wreckage. No.17's vitals had vanished long ago. Given the circumstances, his survival seemed impossible. Everyone thought he was dead, including Stephen, who was used to seeing such destruction from behind a screen. The vital signs monitor had been silent for a long time. Given the severity of the damage, there was almost no hope of recovery. Stephen moved his line of sight back to the screen. He stopped paying attention to the goings-on inside the experimentation chamber. Instead, he started looking at the news his subordinate had reported to him earlier that afternoon. The ferocious special-grade creature in the secret zone had once again destroyed their expensive control center, giving him a splitting headache. The creature had been exceptionally aggravated lately and had already destroyed countless experimentation chambers. It had also murdered many test subjects and researchers. Things would spiral out of control if they continued like this, but no one dared approach it because of its mysterious consciousness interference ability. Stephen rubbed his eyes as his temples throbbed. Then, he heard a faint female voice crackle through the intercom. "No.17?" she called. Silence was the only thing that answered her. No response came from the rubble. Elara had been allowed into the experimentation zone, but no one would answer her from the world of death and destruction. The splitting experiment had reached such an extreme that No.17 likely now resembled a flatworm. Few creatures could withstand such agony. Elara continued calling out to him, though. Her voice was soft and gentle, almost as if she were afraid of rousing someone deeply asleep. "Alphino." That was the name she'd secretly given No.17. She'd only ever used it a few times in the past; no one else knew of it aside from the owner of that name. Behind the screen, someone asked, "What did she just say?" A researcher turned up the volume and removed traces of interference so they could hear her loud and clear. She gently called, "Alphino, where are you?" The researcher turned around and said, "She's calling out for 'Alphino.'" Someone said, "That sounds like a name." Another realized something and laughed. "She actually named a test subject. How laughable!" Mocking laughter rang out in the observation zone—they couldn't believe how naive Elara was. Someone abruptly stopped laughing and focused on the screen. They said, "Hold on… the test subject's vitals are recovering!" Stephen looked up at the screen, his eyes glinting coldly behind his glasses. On the screen, the waveform indicating signs of life slowly flickered with a faint curve No.17's vital signs were recovering! The researchers were beyond stunned. Someone shakily said, "The test subject's biological signal spectrum has changed…" … "Alphino!" Elara continued calling. She seemed to want to summon something from amid the wreckage. This was a memory that only she and No.17 shared. He'd looked lost on the day she'd given him this name—he'd merely gazed at her, his face and eyes calm and aloof. He'd been young then, and she knew that was the look he would put on when he didn't understand her. Back then, No.17 had only recently hatched and was still in his juvenile form. He'd slowly started responding to the outside world after Elara's constant efforts to speak to him through the glass. He'd started interacting with her and watching her curiously. He listened as she uttered words in a language he'd yet to grasp, her voice gentle as she said, "Alphino—that's the name I've given you. Do you like it?" He stared at her dazedly, his vision becoming misty as he watched her lips move. She was his keeper, gentle and endearing. At his confusion, Elara had pointed at her chest. Then, she'd enunciated, "I'm Elle—Elara Turner." A young No.17 had pushed open the unlocked hatch with his tentacle, looking lost. Then, he'd peeked out of the chamber and stared at her dazedly. "You're adorable!" she had cooed. He'd curled his tentacles and cocked his head while returning her gaze. She'd reached out to him carefully before caressing his cold, wet, moss-green hair. Then, she'd said gently, "'Elara' means grace, just like you are." The sensation of her fingers brushing against his scalp had been wondrous; he'd trembled from it. He listened as she talked about being graceful. That was the first time he'd learned something. As he'd grown, he'd gained the ability to think. Once the neurons in his brain had reached a certain degree of complexity, he'd understood everything she'd said. He realized "Alphino" was a name she rarely used with him—he recognized it to be like "Elara". It was a name unique to him and one that only she could call. No.17 had been elated upon realizing this. He loved the name because his beloved had given it to him. The mere thought of that had brought him so much happiness that he'd almost died from it. Just like that, Elara secretly gave him a name—one that was unique to him. "Alphino, wake up…" It was his and only his. "Alphino…" Something stirred between the severed limbs and the sticky remnants of tentacles as Elara softly called out to No.17. From beneath the shattered biological tissue, a pale arm—almost like a gypsum sculpture, faintly tinged with an imperceptible blue—slowly emerged. His muscles were taut and striking, like the broken statue of a god. There was an almost suffocating fragility to it. "Alphino, I'm here," Elara said. With the call, the arm struggled to pull the body up. A battered and broken No.17 slowly emerged from the sea of blood, covered in injuries from head to toe. No patch of skin was unharmed, and his wounds were bone-deep. A long gash marred his handsome face, yet the flesh beneath it was healing at an unbelievable rate. His lashes trembled slightly as he reached out to Elara, who stood behind the glass in the distance. "Elle…" he called softly. There was something heart-wrenching about how broken he sounded—it made one conjure images of a cracked statue. It was a fragility and tenderness that shouldn't have belonged to a creature as powerful as him. He saw the tears in her eyes as she watched him from behind the glass. She looked sorrowful and on the verge of crying. This broke his heart; he could barely breathe. The sharp pain in his chest hurt more than any other attack during the splitting experiment. "Elle." Had he upset her? He would rather go through more torture than see her sad. Elara pressed her hands helplessly against the glass, her fingertips turning pale because of the force she exerted. "Come here. It's over." Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she forced a smile that looked worse than her tears. No.17 stared at her, his regret and heartache so all-encompassing that he couldn't breathe. He felt like his heart was being dragged through a thorny bramble—the pain was worse than any attack that had been launched on him.