Chapter 1

Elara Turner left the control center after upgrading her access card, inevitably passing by the contamination zone on her way out. Pained humanoid creatures were contained behind the glass wall. They saw a glimmer of hope when they noticed the sorrow Elara couldn't completely hide. They pleaded with her, but she couldn't do anything to help. There were many other failed experiments at the research base. They cried and howled in agony, half their faces resembling people while the other half resembled an unknown, grotesque creature. Many of them used to be researchers at the base who had become part of the experiments themselves for one reason or another. That afternoon, the research base received another batch of prisoners. Cries, shouts, and howls echoed throughout Zone A. A young sea hare humanoid grabbed Elara's clothes, so meek that he was scared by the noise. He trembled and clung to her, hiding behind her skirt. "Don't be scared." She stroked his head, soothing him gently. "Everything's okay, so don't be scared." His eyes were red, and he had delicate features. His gaze was filled with fear as he pressed his face against her hand. His lips parted, but he was unable to form a complete sentence. "Elle…" His voice was soft and small, and he nuzzled against her hand. "Touch… Don't… go…" His gentle pleas sounded coquettish, and Elara's heart softened. She sat down to soothe him. The cries and screams came from the prisoners in the initial phases of their transformation. The ripping and tearing of their bodies brought them pain that was more intense than any form of punishment—it made them want to die on the spot. Unfortunately, the pain was just the beginning. In the future, they would experience unimaginable torment. This was an entirely new form of capital punishment—the death row inmates would contribute whatever they could to science before their deaths. The humanoid sea hare lifted half his body out of his chamber and wrapped his arms around Elara's legs. Looking docile, he pressed his flawless face to her knee, wetting her uniform. She couldn't see this from where she was, but his red eyes filled with satisfaction and happiness. She was his keeper, and she indulged in him so. "Are you scared, No.11?" Elara asked gently. "Yes…" No.11's lashes fluttered under her soft touches, and his cheeks slowly flushed. His voice, soft and sticky with shyness, spilled from his lips. Beyond the reinforced glass wall beside them, a brooding, half-squid young man gazed at them darkly. He had handsome, deep-set features, but his face was emotionless. He wasn't the same as No.11. He was dangerous and aggressive, so he had never been allowed to leave his chamber. And so, he had never been that affectionate with Elara. He was named No.17, a hybrid of a human and a cephalopod-like mollusk. He was another experiment under Elara's care. If she turned around at that moment, she would see the terrifying storm brewing in his eyes when he was usually quiet, docile, and compliant with her. Ashley Lane always said that Elara had a certain affinity about her. It was rare for experimental subjects to develop feelings for their researchers—the experiments were brutal and inhumane, after all. This zone, in particular, housed cold-blooded sea creatures that were solitary, reclusive, and devoid of emotion. They were also highly dangerous. However, the experimental subjects under Elara's care all displayed boundless dependence and trust in her, which was a curious sight. One example would be No.11, a sea hare young man whose flesh and blood were filled with healing properties. Another example would be No.17, a tentacled man who looked like a chiseled marble statue. Her third experimental subject was a gigantic, semi-transparent jellyfish—No.4, a blue bottle jellyfish mutant. It was forbidden to name the experimental subjects—that was the rule. Once the creatures were named, one would inevitably form an attachment to them. Unnecessary emotions were meaningless restraints to the employees at the research base. Elara had once secretly named the first experimental subject under her care. She'd later cried for days after the experiment had failed one of its splitting experiments. From then on, she'd only addressed her subjects by their numbers. "See you tomorrow," she said to the experiments. She changed out of her uniform before starting the hardest part of her day. No.11 whined and looked at her with his red eyes, seemingly on the verge of tears. "Are you… leaving? Not… sleeping here?" His words came out awkwardly as he reached out from the chamber. He wanted to grab the hem of her shirt but couldn't reach her. No.17 watched her silently. One of his tentacles pressed against the cold glass wall. He didn't speak, but the reluctance in his actions was clear. These scenes of farewell, almost as tragic as life and death itself, played out almost daily. The experimental subjects resembled children who refused to part with their parents when being dropped off at kindergarten. They acted like the most relentless overseers of the research base, wanting Elara to work around the clock until she dropped dead. However, she'd long since developed an immunity to their overly dramatic goodbyes, only finding them more amusing than touching. After leaving the room, she walked past an underwater tunnel. Above the aquaculture zone, a beautiful, ethereal, semi-transparent creature floated in the water. It was a massive jellyfish that seemed to eclipse the sky. Its beautiful, silky tendrils looked as smooth and soft as pudding. They expanded and retracted as they floated toward Elara, tracing her features behind the glass. Humans were always captivated by beautiful creatures. The jellyfish looked translucent and harmless, but the venom contained within its body was enough to kill instantly. This jellyfish was the scariest, most venomous one currently known to mankind. "I'm going home." Elara waved at the jellyfish. "Goodnight, No.4." The beautiful tendrils grazed the glass, seemingly responding to her words. … After getting home and taking a short break, Elara stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows in her apartment and looked down. The raging sea loomed menacingly, threatening to devour the edges of the land. Meanwhile, the sky unleashed a torrential downpour. The research base's hotel-style apartments were 278 stories high, which would have made jaws drop a century ago. The 162nd floor, where she lived, once held the record for the world's tallest building. Now, it is just an average number. Only 10% of the Earth's land remained, with continents no longer divided. People of all ethnicities and languages now lived together—the land was now mankind's final stronghold, their Aether Spire. Legend had it that to avoid a flood that would wash out all life, mankind once worked together to build the Aether Spire, a tower that would lead them to heaven. The planet had mutated several decades ago. The ocean's surface area had expanded incessantly, and the amount of land conquered by mankind had dwindled. 90% of the planet had turned into water. The relentless downpour seemed to defy the law of conservation of matter. Ice caps melted, snowfields vanished, and with them came viruses, mutations, and strange, unpredictable evolutions. And then—seemingly out of nowhere—terrifying, unknown alien creatures had appeared. The Aether Spire Biological Research Base had thus been born.