The door creaked open; the guards, in their silver-black armor, stood like stone, a red glint flickering in the slits of their helmets. Only Michael was allowed inside. Elias and Vivienne remained behind; the iron door slammed shut with a clang, sealing the world outside.
Michael stepped cautiously into the room. The surroundings were unexpectedly warm—like a home, but laced with an eerie calm. The walls were clad in dark wooden panels; the ceiling, low and shadowy, flickered with candlelight. Bookshelves loomed around him; leather-bound tomes, dusty parchments, and notebooks etched with strange runes were haphazardly stacked. The air was heavy and damp; two opposing scents assaulted his nostrils. One was like a wet towel—stifling, moldy, like the smell of an old wound. The other was strawberry—sweet, intense, almost nauseating, cloaking the air like a mist. The clashing scents created a conflict in his mind; the chaos of DID whispered, What is this? His steps echoed faintly on the wooden floor; with each step, the bookshelves seemed to stretch toward a single direction, as if leading to the heart of a labyrinth.
As he advanced, a pressure grew in his chest. The air thickened; it felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing his shoulders. His ears filled with a hum—low, vibrating, like the pulse of a machine. The sensation was familiar; Michael's heart pounded with panic, but he couldn't pinpoint why. The shadows of DID stirred in his mind; Run? But there was no turning back. The corridor between the bookshelves narrowed; the candles' flames flickered with his steps. As he turned the final corner, the pressure peaked—breathing felt like swallowing a knife. And there, in the center of the room, stood a figure straight out of a battlefield.
Lady Adelaide had removed her helmet. Her purple-blue hair spilled over her shoulders; each strand gleamed like a galaxy in the candlelight, radiating an eerie allure. Her face was pale and gaunt; her cheeks were sunken, her eyes burned in deep hollows—dark, almost black, but with a fire flickering within. Her body was frail, almost breakable; her armor, silver and navy, lay crumpled on the floor, leaving only a thin tunic to cover her. She sat in a strange chair—not a chair, but a contraption; made of metal and glass, like a medical torture device. Transparent tubes were connected to her arms and chest; the tubes were stained red, her blood flowing slowly, dripping in a rhythm. The chair's edges were etched with pulsing runes; the air grew heavy with her presence, exuding an oppressive power.
Lady Adelaide saw Michael; her lips curled into a faint smile. "I must look… awful right now, don't I?" she said, her voice soft but carrying a steely authority. The smell of blood mingled with the strawberry scent; Michael swallowed hard. Staying silent felt wrong. "You're… absolutely still very beautiful, my Lady," he said, his voice trembling but sincere. The chaos of DID whispered, Why did I say that? Lady Adelaide chuckled; her laugh was hoarse but practiced, as if such compliments were routine for her. "Oh, come on," she said, weakly waving her hand. "No need to be so stiff." Her smile was warm but dangerous; her eyes pierced Michael, weighing his soul.
Michael felt his heart race. "How can I not be stiff, my Lady?" he said, his voice bolder but still shaky. "I'm facing someone… both beautiful and wielding overwhelming power." Lady Adelaide raised an eyebrow; "Haa," she said, smiling as if praising a child's courage. "Honesty's not bad." She coughed; dark blood seeped from her lips, dripping onto her tunic. Michael froze, but Lady Adelaide's ease quelled his concern. It didn't seem like her first time. "You're here about your arm, right?" she said, her voice calm but commanding. "You must've gotten the details from Elias and Vivienne. They may seem tough, but they're kids at heart." She coughed again; blood mixed with the tubes, a drop falling to the floor. Michael didn't move; Lady Adelaide's fragility made her power even more terrifying.
She continued slowly. "The thing in your arm… it's going to sound strange, Michael." Her voice carried a teacher's patience. "The seed of a dead god has taken root in your body. The Inquisition ordered me to kill you. But I… chose to do a kindness. I hope you don't let me down." Michael's breath caught; the chaos of DID surged like a storm in his mind. The seed of a dead god? "Why did the Inquisition want me dead?" he asked, his voice cracked. Lady Adelaide narrowed her eyes; her purple-blue hair fell like a shadow over her face. "Kid, why do you think the god died? Just because? Mother Earth punished it; turned it into seeds. But the god pulled one last trick. It injected its will into its Vita. The seeds became fragments of that will. Eight years ago, the Abominable Titan came and stole the seeds. Why? We don't know. What will it do? We don't know. But it stole them. I'm here to collect them back. Right now, we've gathered twenty-eight percent of the seeds. But there are more." Her words hung in the air like a curse; the tubes trembled with blood.
Michael's mind overflowed with information; his head spun. "Can I… have a moment?" he said, his voice weak. Lady Adelaide nodded; the room echoed with only the faint hiss of the tubes and the crackle of candles. Michael thought in the silence. The seed had regrown his arm; it held energy, power. The world had shown him no kindness—why destroy the seed? He made his decision; quick but resolute. "I'll carry the seed," he said, his voice firm. Lady Adelaide's eyes gleamed; a faint smile curled her lips.
"How do I activate my Shell?" Michael asked. Lady Adelaide chuckled; her laugh was hoarse but wise. "People usually chat a bit, but fine, this time it's like this." She extended her hand; a green orb appeared in the air—bright but eerie, spinning wildly, as if alive. "This is Titan essence," she said. "If you're lucky, you'll start with an Advanced Shell. Since we're at war, you'll have plenty of chances to grow your Shell. The Titan deserves some thanks, doesn't it?" Michael's hairs stood on end as he looked at the orb; he swallowed, taking a deep breath. "Do I have to eat it?" he asked, his voice trembling. Lady Adelaide smiled; her eyes hid the answer to a riddle. "No, just hold it. Normally, absorbing essence takes years. But your arm… it's from a god. The Law of Vita Attraction will speed it up. Vita flows from where it's abundant to where it's scarce. As you develop your Shell, your energy recharge will quicken. But remember: Skipping Shells isn't about growth—it's about crossing thresholds. The hardest part is passing those barriers."
Michael took the orb; it was cold but pulsed, like a heart. Lady Adelaide continued, with a teacher's demeanor: "Hold the essence and wait. When you feel a pull—Sixth Sense Attraction—focus on it. Your body is smarter than you think. Even the dumbest make it through this stage. Your arm will make it faster." Michael nodded; "Thank you, my Lady," he said, with sincerity. Lady Adelaide waved her hand. "Go on, start now." Michael sat cross-legged; Lady Adelaide approached, her purple-blue hair brushing his shoulder, stirring a strange warmth. "Feel the liquid," she said, her voice calm but commanding.
Michael gripped the orb tightly. Suddenly, he felt a force—indescribable, as if an invisible thread stretched between him and the orb. He turned his hand; the orb didn't fall, hovering in the air like a magnet. With childlike curiosity, he waved his hand; the orb still didn't fall, dancing with him. Lady Adelaide raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, her surprise hidden. "Stop playing," she said finally, her voice patient. "Feel." Michael closed his eyes; the force grew, flowing like a river. Suddenly, the liquid from the orb was drawn into his hand—it stung like a needle, seeping into his veins. Pain tore through his body; his abdomen felt as if kicked by a beast. His organs clenched, his heart raced twice as fast. His body turned green; his skin briefly became translucent, veins glowing. The pain felt like a lifetime; his teeth bled from clenching, his jaw ached. Time seemed to stop.
Slowly, the pain subsided. Michael collapsed, gasping; his body returned to its normal color, but two distinct pains throbbed in his abdomen. At the back of his waist, an odd ache lingered, incomprehensible. Lady Adelaide narrowed her eyes. "One or two?" she said, her voice sharp. "Two pains in your abdomen… are they both strong, or is one more intense?" Michael, breathless, said, "Two." Lady Adelaide froze; for a moment, her eyes darted to the room's shadows, as if searching for a threat. "Don't tell anyone about this," she said, her voice stern. "You're not ready for this power yet." Michael nodded; the chaos of DID whispered, What happened?
Suddenly, a knock came at the door—strong, metallic. Lady Adelaide stood quickly; the tubes, trembling with blood, swayed. She grabbed Michael's arm, hurriedly tidying the room—books and scattered parchments were shoved into a corner. She moved to the door; Michael stumbled after her. When the door opened, a figure in black armor stood before them. A skeletal mask covered their face—bone-white, so realistic Michael briefly thought it wasn't human. The eye sockets were dark, but a red spark burned within. The armor was etched with pulsing runes; with each step, the ground trembled faintly. The figure was imposing—like a miniature reflection of the Titan, yet massive for a human. Beside them stood two shadowy figures; their faces were hidden in the shadows of their helmets, unrecognizable. Lady Adelaide bowed respectfully. "Welcome," she said, her voice calm but tense. The black-armored figure didn't speak; the sparks behind the mask locked onto Michael. The gaze pierced his soul—fear coursed through Michael's veins like ice. Lady Adelaide hurriedly pushed Michael out; the door slammed shut with a clang, but the figure's gaze echoed in his mind.