Chapter 80: Zane’s plan

Vast landscapes stretched beyond imagination. Floating islands drifted lazily across skies of liquid light, their undersides trailing rivers of glowing mana. Below, seas of swirling brilliance shifted in waves that sang with energy, casting refracted colors across crystalline forests. The trees hummed softly, each branch shimmering like starlight woven into living glass. Mountains rose and dissolved as though alive, their mirrored surfaces reflecting visions of places both real and impossible. And deep within hidden valleys, mana vortexes spun wildly, devouring and reshaping the flow of the world.

This was Everion—a realm where beauty and danger were inseparable, where existence itself pulsed in harmony with raw, untamed magic.

At its heart stood a grand palace, a place where presence alone could make the air heavy.

Inside, a man sat at a long table, pen scratching against parchment. His dark cobalt hair was swept back in soft waves, catching the glow of floating lights above. Eyes of luminous teal narrowed in thought as he finished his writing, the calm precision of his movements betraying a sharp and disciplined mind.

But then—something shifted.

The man froze, pen hovering mid-stroke. His gaze sharpened as a ripple of power brushed against him. Slowly, he rose, his footsteps silent yet steady as he crossed into a long corridor lit by hovering crystals.

He came to a chamber.

Here, hundreds of crystalline spires glowed, each one pulsing with faint life, like heartbeats preserved in glass. He walked with purpose, weaving through them until his eyes fixed on one in the far corner.

A crystal—once vibrant—was dimming. Thin cracks spread across its surface, light leaking out like fading embers.

The man’s brows furrowed. Surprise flickered across his calm features as he muttered, voice carrying a weight of disbelief.

“…Eirenyssa is dying? How is this possible?”

Before the echo could fade, a voice called from behind.

“Master Sylas.”

A tall figure approached, dressed in refined attire, his posture formal and precise—every bit the image of a loyal butler. He bowed slightly.

“The King wishes to meet you.”

Sylas turned his gaze away from the failing crystal, eyes narrowing slightly, and gave a slow nod.

“…Understood.”

Sylas’s figure blurred and vanished from the chamber, leaving behind the rows of silent, glowing crystals.

The one he had stood before shuddered violently. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, light bleeding through like a final scream. A sharp sound echoed—then the crystal shattered completely, collapsing into fine dust that scattered through the air before fading into nothingness.

—

Far away, within dimensional space…

Eirenyssa’s body lay limp on the ground, her eyes blank, her will shattered. Zane stood over her, calm as ever, his deep purple eyes glinting faintly.

He lowered his gaze and spoke, voice low but certain.

“But don’t worry… I have a better use for you.”

Reaching down, he grasped Eirenyssa’s hand with ease, lifting her weightless body as though she were nothing more than a doll. His black coat stirred faintly as he rose, flying straight toward the exit of the dimensional bag.

The next moment, his figure stepped out into his quiet room. The atmosphere shifted instantly, the serene stillness of the chamber contrasting the chaos that had just unfolded. Zane laid no words to the empty air—his expression unreadable, his smirk faint.

Holding Eirenyssa’s limp form, he gave one last glance around the room… and then, without hesitation, his figure blurred.

Both he and Eirenyssa disappeared once more.

—

The scenery shifted again.

A storm of energy roared briefly before fading into silence—Zane was back in no-where, on his island. The sky above was same with sun, rippling like a vast continent, while the ground of the island crunched softly beneath his boots.

In his arms, Eirenyssa’s body still hung limp. Zane glanced at her, raising a hand and weaving faint threads of Null energy around her form. Her shattered body stabilized at once. Wounds sealed. Mana fluctuations steadied. Her fragile immortal frame was adjusted, reinforced just enough so she wouldn’t immediately collapse—even her so-called immortality wouldn’t have saved her without his interference.

“Pathetic,” he murmured, shaking his head with a faint smile.

With a flap of his coat, he took off into the air, flying toward the heart of his island. The black cliffs gave way to an enormous lab hidden in the island’s depths—its walls pulsing faintly with runic circuits and embedded mana-stones.

He stepped forward, arriving before the chamber where his earlier experiments still lingered.

One was sealed inside a transparent container—his entire body had liquefied into a writhing, bubbling substance. The living liquid churned and boiled endlessly, releasing faint shrieks as bubbles burst at the surface. Each time, the liquid condensed , starting the process again.

The other subject remained on a separate platform, his body intact but bound in place. Yet his legs were a blur, running ceaselessly like a streak of blue lightning, the air sizzling and crackling around him with each movement.

Both experiments remained exactly as he had left them. Unmoving. Unchanging.

Zane’s lips curved. “Still alive, huh. Good.”

He stepped forward, arriving before a massive machine—its jagged steel arms and crystal conduits waiting in silence. His voice echoed through the chamber as he spoke with calm finality:

“This place is going to get an upgrade.”

At that command, sleek bots rolled and flew into view, their metallic eyes glowing faintly. They circled around him, awaiting orders.

Zane glanced at Eirenyssa one last time. “You’ll do nicely.”

With no hesitation, he tossed her toward the machine. Mechanical arms snapped forward instantly, capturing her. Shackles of black steel and mana chains locked around her wrists and ankles, binding her tightly in place.

The bots whirred softly before bringing a chair to Zane’s side. He sat down casually, crossing one leg over the other, his deep purple eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement as he watched Eirenyssa restrained in the heart of his lab.

The bots whirred softly before bringing a chair to Zane’s side. He sat down casually, crossing one leg over the other, his deep purple eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement as he watched Eirenyssa restrained in the heart of his lab.

Beneath the machine, etched in flawless script, gleamed its name:

The Anima Extractor.

A device designed not for flesh, but for the soul. Slowly, agonizingly, it siphoned a person’s essence from their vessel—thread by thread. The process was torment beyond comprehension, leaving nothing but an empty husk. What was stolen would then be preserved, locked in crystalline flasks for Zane’s experiments.

Zane’s lips curled.

“Start.”

At once, the machine hissed to life. From its core, a segmented appendage extended outward—long, metallic, rune-engraved, ending in a needle-sharp tip. It moved fluidly, like a predator seeking its prey, and drifted toward Eirenyssa’s face.

With a sudden lunge, the claw pierced. Not her skin—no wound appeared—but through her very essence.

Eirenyssa’s eyes snapped open. A scream tore inside her chest, though no sound escaped her lips. Pain—raw, infinite, all-encompassing—exploded across her being, as if every nerve in her soul had been set ablaze.

Her body convulsed against the restraints, but they held firm.

Her lips moved, trembling, trying to form words. Nothing but broken gasps.

Zane leaned his chin into his palm, watching with idle fascination. His eyes glittered as if enjoying a fine performance.

The claw pulsed, and something unseen shimmered—like threads of silver mist being unraveled—from deep within her. Her soul itself was being hooked, dragged, and pulled into the extractor.

And the more it tugged, the more her pain magnified, echoing not just in her body, but in the very core of her existence.

The claw shuddered, its runes glowing brighter as the process intensified.

From Eirenyssa’s trembling frame, a faint silver silhouette began to take shape—an ethereal husk, clinging desperately to the vessel it had inhabited. Her existence itself felt like it was being pried apart, every fiber of her being stretched and torn.

Her soul resisted, refusing to separate, threads of luminous essence binding her spirit to her flesh. The extractor pulled anyway—slow, unrelenting—like tearing something glued too tightly, strands of radiance snapping one by one with agonizing delay.

Eirenyssa’s eyes rolled back, tears streaming, her silent screams etched across her face as the claw drew her soul further into the open. Every tug sent shivers of raw agony coursing through her, the way wax rips hair from skin, only magnified to the level of existence itself.

Zane’s smirk deepened. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, watching the violent separation with the same satisfaction one might take in watching a puzzle being solved.

At last, the final strands gave way.

With a wrenching pull, her soul snapped free. Her limp body slumped as the extractor raised its prize—a shimmering orb of silver energy, pulsating faintly like a living heart.

The soul was funneled into a crystalline flask, where it swirled and beat against the glass in vain.

Her body, now empty, was unceremoniously ejected into a nearby medi-tank. Fluids surged and bubbled around her, cleansing every trace of soul residue from the shell she once inhabited, ensuring nothing of her essence remained inside.

Zane plucked the flask from its cradle, holding it up to the soft light of the lab. The silver glow reflected in his eyes, sharp and calculating.

“Nice,” he murmured, smiling. “Now… let’s start another process.”

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