Nafız looked at the drugs on the platform and saw that they were all finished, then White Well's laughter reached her ears. He had succeeded; the Chief Researcher had managed to make Alyon his puppet, but the real question was: what would Nafız do in this situation?
"It has finally happened; the Neo-Orc army has found its new commander. Attack!"
White Well was shouting, while Nafız, with her gaze fixed on her friend's eyes, was searching for someone familiar there. A large-scale battle was raging within the facility, but no one was aware of the final state of Alyon's inner world.
"Where am I?"
Looking around, Alyon could see nothing; there was no color to his right or left, only a deep blackness. He took a few steps; it was as if he were walking in a void, his feet touched nothing, and a second question fell into his mind.
"Who am I?"
At that moment, white lights began to appear, flowing toward him from all sides. These lights, which began to spin around him, were saying only one thing, and they began to attack: "Do what he says."
"Do what White Well says!"
Each took the form of a different wild creature, and among them were images of warriors belonging to other civilizations on the World of the Six Civilizations. Gulag had used a fully conscious wild creature, but the Chief Researcher seemed to have gone further than that.
It was only natural for him to do so. Since his target had been Bookworm, he had no choice but to increase the dosage that had affected a weakling like Godfrey. He was aware of Bookworm's mental strength and had acted accordingly, but now that Alyon was exposed to this dose, things had completely changed.
"Get away from me!"
Alyon, beginning to attack the white light spheres bearing the faces of various creatures, wanted to throw his fists, but he was struck with confusion as his left fist failed to follow his right. The Orc Chief, who had lost consciousness the moment he was wounded, was still unaware of his body's final state, and it didn't take long for him to realize that his loss wasn't just his left arm.
"Half of my vision is gone; the left side is a complete blind spot!"
Whatever passed through his mind, he could hear it with his ears; he was sure he hadn't spoken, yet his inner voice came out in a way that those outside could hear. Those attacking him heard his thoughts as well and did not hesitate to exploit this opening.
"Fight honorably, you bastards!"
Alyon, both shouting and swinging his right fist while spinning on his own axis, was becoming enraged. The darkness was increasing, and he didn't know that this situation affected not only where he was but also White Well's secret facility.
"The change is beginning; very soon, nothing but my voice will reach him!"
With White Well's words, the voices rising from the light spheres also increased. They were saying his name, demanding that Alyon obey, and they would continue to inflict harm as long as he didn't. No matter how much the Orc Chief tried to resist, it was impossible to succeed; he was alone, and the enemies before him numbered in the hundreds.
This was a war of attrition; with every blow, not only his body but also his soul was being damaged. The light particles seeping into him were trying to convince him that he should give up and find peace instead of enduring such pain.
Besieged by both internal and external threats, Alyon was growing tired as he struggled blindly; he was unaware of how much time had passed. The clock of his inner world and the clock of the outer world were not the same; while not even ten minutes had passed since the drugs ran out, he had been under the attack of the white light spheres for nearly ten years.
"Surrender!" "Do what he says!" "Bow down to the one who is superior to you!"
Alyon was swaying, his knees groaning under the weight of his massive body, but he remained standing. He hadn't given up for a moment on trying to resist them with a single fist, and he didn't look like he would.
"No one is superior to me! My name is Alyon!"
In truth, his body had long since accepted defeat and slavery—how could it not in this broken state? But a feeling coming from the furthest corners of his mind, from a place more distant than he had ever visited, kept him on his feet.
While his mind struggled for ten years to protect itself from the attacks of the white light spheres, certain thoughts—things that had never occurred to him before—became his guests. Questions, an endless stream of questions, were passing through, but only one was repeated constantly.
"Why did only two lineage powers continue to exist?"
Everything had been taken from him; his left arm, his freedom, he couldn't even reach his Power Animal, yet his Lineage Power was still with him. Other orcs had begun to lose their lineage powers with Bürküt's death, and this had continued until only two remained over time, but why had Warrior's Fury and Warrior's Rage managed to endure?
While he grappled with these questions as the first decade passed, a tremendous struggle continued in the facility. While Nafız fell into a difficult situation due to Alyon's increasingly powerful Lineage Power, the Neo-Orc army created by White Well grew stronger by the moment. She was now using the Blood Cube technique not just to attack, but to withstand the blows raining down on her.
"Alyon, you blockhead, come to your senses!"
"Don't bother, Nafız! If you have any sense, you'll run now and extend your life by a few more years. When the number of my Neo-Orc army reaches tens or hundreds of thousands, I will come after you too; you will die in my hands just like the other members of the Dynasty Family!"
White Well might have formed a five-thousand-man army for now, but it was unclear how many facilities he had like the one Bookworm had destroyed. Furthermore, he no longer needed to seek perfection, because thanks to Alyon's Lineage Power, the level of the mutated warriors was naturally increasing.
"I wonder if the Khan will be able to use his power when his grandfather is among them? Even if he uses it, it might not even work anymore; you feel it too, don't you? The power of your friend, who is my puppet, is increasing without pause, and I don't think anyone can reach my Neo-Orc Army while they are under his protection."
The Chief Researcher wasn't entirely wrong; even Nafız, who stored nearly limitless life energy in the blood flowing through her veins, could not withstand the pressure of the energy blacker than night without a protective field. If she wanted to escape, she could succeed; it was impossible for this army to hold her for now, but if White Well did what he said, they were all in trouble.
The reason they bullied other civilizations, so to speak, was that they kept their own lands and the continent of the Wild Swamp safe thanks to a single person. Along with Ainle, the Khan possessed absolute authority over the living beings on two continents, and if enemies entered these lands, they were torn to pieces within seconds.
But what would happen if Alyon attacked with tens of thousands of mutated orcs? To protect everyone from the wrath of Alyon, whose eventual form was unknown in this man's hands, the matter had to end here.
As Nafız made her final decision, Alyon was experiencing the final minutes of his third ten-year cycle. His surrender was a matter of time; the questions he had found to occupy his mind and resist the attacks were exhausted, and as answers failed to come, he was left defenseless.
Perhaps he should just let himself go—what did he have to lose? He was crippled, and for many years he had lived in the shadow of the glorious years when they had conquered the Orc Steppes. His son, his daughter, his grandson, even a boy in short pants crying in his mother's arms was stronger than him; why should he resist?
But despite all these valid and reasonable excuses, he couldn't give up. A crimson wound was aching in the very center of his heart, and as it ached, it enraged him. This crimson gash, which he was certain hadn't been there before—why was it spreading without stopping and splitting his heart in two?
As new questions required new answers, Alyon closed the only eye that allowed him to see. He focused on the crimson light glowing on his left; he could see the crimson silhouette where his missing eye had been. An animal was approaching, one that left a crimson trail in the darkness every time it struck its four hooves on the ground, its mane glowing like pieces of fire, a beast Alyon could not have possibly seen before.
Upon it was someone with crimson skin covered in black tribal tattoos, entirely naked except for a piece of cloth wrapped around his waist. Despite this, the power radiating reached immense levels; every movement left crimson traces within the absolute black.
"Finally, an heir has come who can cling tightly to one of my two powers. I have been waiting for you for a very long time, orc warrior!"