Chapter 83 - The Menagerie

Etzel wanted to attack the Menagerie immediately.

So he did not.

That was becoming an irritating sign of maturity.

Dorian sat inside an Authority interview room with food, water, medical treatment, and three layers of security.

Not a prisoner.

Not trusted.

Right.

Etzel watched through the glass.

DK stood beside him.

Saeva floated on the other side, arms folded.

She had learned the gesture from Sivenne.

This was unfortunate for everyone.

“They cage summons,” Saeva said.

“If Dorian is telling the truth.”

“He is.”

“You can feel that?”

“No.”

“Then we verify.”

Saeva glared.

Etzel looked at her.

“I believe him too.”

Her expression softened slightly.

“But belief is not enough to send people into a hostile facility.”

DK nodded.

“Correct.”

Saeva glared at him too.

Orsik accepted this without visible injury.

Renn entered.

“We have partial confirmation.”

Etzel turned.

“How partial?”

“One captured Hunter carried encrypted transaction records. Halven broke enough of the outer layer to identify repeated references to MGR-4.”

“Menagerie?”

“Likely.”

“Location?”

“Not yet.”

“Clients?”

“Not yet.”

“Victims?”

Renn’s face hardened.

“Enough references to classify this as a major criminal operation.”

That helped.

Not good.

But actionable.

“What do they know about me?” Etzel asked.

“Too much.”

“Level 16 within minutes.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“One attacker had an appraisal ability specialized for concealed growth.”

“That’s rude.”

“It is also why your public Level suppression should no longer be treated as reliable against specialized observers.”

Etzel nodded.

Useful consequence.

Renn continued.

“They also knew Saeva was valuable before confirming what she was.”

Saeva’s folded arms tightened.

Etzel’s voice cooled.

“Then they were hunting us before the orchard.”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly?”

“The team was assigned to recover Dorian. Your presence may have changed their priorities.”

DK spoke.

“They improvised.”

“Yes.”

That was better than a conspiracy built around Etzel.

The world contained other problems.

It should.

Renn placed a tablet on the table.

“Dorian gave us three possible access routes. We verify independently.”

Etzel looked at the map.

Old freight tunnel.

Abandoned veterinary research complex.

Private dungeon logistics depot.

Three possibilities.

“One is real?”

“Dorian only saw the exterior twice. He was transported unconscious most times.”

“Most?”

Renn looked through the glass.

“He was held there for eleven months.”

Saeva stopped moving.

Etzel felt something inside himself become very still.

Eleven months.

Not one experiment.

A system.

“His first ability?”

“Removed during month two.”

“Survived?”

“Yes.”

“Others?”

Renn paused.

“Not all.”

Etzel looked away from the glass.

No dramatic vow.

No speech.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Just a decision.

If the Menagerie existed, it ended.

But first they found it.

The breakthrough came from Saeva.

Not Halven.

Not Mireth.

Etzel had become suspicious of conclusions that arrived too quickly, especially when they were convenient. One detail kept returning to him: Same as us.” “Did she sleep?” “Yes.” “Cold?” “What?” “Was she cold?” Dorian thought. It had felt simple while he was reacting to it. In retrospect it carried more than one possible explanation, and Etzel had paid enough for certainty to stop buying it cheaply. He rebuilt the event from the parts that could actually be checked. What he had seen remained useful. What he thought it meant remained provisional.

Orsik watched the process without interrupting until Etzel finally looked up. “You can say it.”

“I was waiting to see whether you would notice it yourself.”

“That is an extremely inefficient form of support.”

“It worked.”

Etzel disliked that answer because it did. The correction went into the plan instead of his pride.

Not Witness.

Saeva.

Dorian had described the summoned prisoner as a woman with black hair, gray eyes, and a silver chain around one wrist.

No name.

No remembered language.

The Menagerie called her Unit Twelve.

Saeva listened once.

Then asked:

“What did she eat?”

Everyone looked at her.

Dorian frowned.

“Food.”

“What food?”

“I don’t know. Same as us.”

“Did she sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Cold?”

“What?”

“Was she cold?”

Dorian thought.

“Yes. All the time.”

Saeva looked at Etzel.

“Body.”

Etzel understood.

A real summon body.

Like DK.

Not a temporary construct.

“Anything else?” Saeva asked Dorian.

“Did they keep her near dead things?”

His face changed.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. The lower cells were next to processing.”

“Processing what?” Etzel asked.

Dorian’s jaw tightened.

“Monster corpses. Sometimes people.”

Renn’s expression became dangerous.

Saeva floated closer to the glass.

“She could smell them.”

Dorian nodded slowly.

“She hated that corridor.”

Saeva looked at Etzel.

“Soul body. Real body. Smells death.”

Not enough to identify origin.

But enough to identify needs.

“If she’s still there,” Etzel said, “she leaves traces.”

Halven joined remotely.

“Biological?”

“Maybe. Food consumption. Medical supplies. Temperature control.”

Dorian shook his head.

“They didn’t care if she was comfortable.”

Etzel looked at him.

“But they cared if she died.”

“Yes.”

“Then there are records.”

Renn was already moving.

Within an hour, the Authority found the first external purchase pattern.

Specialized nutritional concentrate.

High caloric density.

Iron supplementation.

Imported through a shell company.

Delivered every nine days.

Destination:

an abandoned veterinary research complex.

Route two.

Renn did not smile.

“Still not enough for an assault.”

Etzel nodded.

“Recon.”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Not you.”

Etzel stared.

Renn continued.

“They know your face. They know Saeva. They may know DK.”

“So?”

“So I am sending people they do not know.”

Etzel hated correct decisions.

“Fine.”

DK looked impressed.

Once the immediate pressure eased, the cost did not vanish with it. The memory of He released before it locked his muscles. made that especially clear. Etzel checked his breathing, grip, shoulders and the places where soul pressure had crossed into ordinary muscle. He no longer accepted functional as a synonym for unharmed. A hand that still closed could be injured. A Foundation that still stood could be strained. A bond that still answered could have paid more than he intended.

With But ignorance could kill the person they were trying to save. still fresh in mind, Saeva stayed close enough to notice the inspection. Etzel tried to dismiss the concern with humor, then changed his mind and gave an accurate answer instead. The shift was small, but it mattered. Hiding damage from enemies was useful. Hiding it from allies only made the next decision worse. He adjusted the next movement around the body and soul he actually had rather than the version of himself his impatience preferred.

Etzel pointed at him.

“Don’t.”

The recon team left at dusk.

Etzel trained.

Because waiting badly was still waiting.

He worked without Witness.

Spear transitions.

Short-blade recovery.

Footwork after failed thrusts.

Saeva practiced pressure control against moving targets rather than maximum force.

DK watched.

Then corrected.

Then stopped correcting every mistake.

Etzel noticed.

“You’re letting me fail.”

“Yes.”

“Proud.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Three hours later, Etzel’s shoulder burned and Saeva could knock a wooden target off balance without launching it into another district.

Better.

His System opened unexpectedly.

Etzel smiled.

That was the kind of message he wanted.

Not free power.

Confirmation that training mattered.

Then Renn called.

“Recon confirmed underground activity.”

Etzel was already moving.

“Summon?”

“Thermal imaging shows a humanoid occupant in an isolated lower cell.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

“Other prisoners?”

“At least fourteen.”

“Hostiles?”

“Twenty-three confirmed. Possibly more.”

“Ranks?”

“Mostly D and C. Two probable B-Ranks.”

Etzel stopped.

Two B-Ranks.

Not a casual raid.

DK could fight B-Rank.

Etzel could not pretend he could.

That helped.

“What’s the plan?”

“Authority assault team. You are attached because of summon-specific risks and Sanctuary. DK is approved. Saeva remains your choice.”

Saeva answered before Etzel.

“I go.”

Renn heard.

“Expected.”

Etzel checked his spear.

Repaired.

Checked short blade.

Checked medical pack.

No special artifact.

Just preparation.

Dorian was brought into the planning room, not the assault.

He marked three corridors.

“Processing here. Cells here. Ability extraction chamber here.”

Etzel tapped the last point.

“Priority?”

Renn answered.

“Prisoners first. Extraction equipment second. Records third. Hostiles captured when practical.”

Etzel nodded.

Dorian looked at him.

“If Unit Twelve is alive…”

“We bring her out.”

“You don’t know her.”

Etzel looked at Saeva.

Then DK.

“I don’t need to.”

Dorian swallowed.

“Be careful with the silver chain.”

“Why?”

“It suppresses her.”

“Ability?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we don’t break it blindly.”

Dorian stared.

“You’re not going to rip it off?”

“No.”

“It hurts her.”

“That doesn’t tell me what happens when it comes off.”

Dorian looked frustrated.

Etzel understood.

Eleven months made patience feel like cruelty.

But ignorance could kill the person they were trying to save.

“We get her out first.”

Dorian nodded reluctantly.

The assault began at 02:10.

No dramatic moon.

No speech.

The Authority cut external power.

Backup generators activated exactly as expected.

That told them which building mattered.

Team One breached the west service entrance.

Team Two hit the freight tunnel.

Etzel, DK, Saeva, Tessa, and four Authority Hunters entered through the lower veterinary wing.

First hostile appeared before the second door.

D-Rank.

DK did not draw the Greatblade.

Etzel handled him.

Spear shaft to wrist.

Knee.

Wall.

Unconscious.

Fast.

Clean.

Level 16 felt different now that his body had settled into it.

Not overwhelming.

Edges sharper.

Recovery quicker.

Enough to matter.

They moved.

Second corridor.

Two C-Ranks.

Saeva pushed one into the wall.

Etzel engaged the other.

The Hunter had a shock baton.

Etzel took one hit on the spear shaft.

Electricity bit his fingers.

He released before it locked his muscles.

Short blade.

Step inside.

Elbow.

Takedown.

Tessa stared as they passed.

“You trained.”

“Compliment later.”

“Not a compliment.”

They reached the lower stair.

Then DK stopped.

Everything stopped with him.

“What?” Etzel whispered.

Orsik looked down.

“I feel someone.”

“Soul Link?”

“No.”

“Varethis?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

DK’s expression changed.

“Fear.”

Below them, metal screamed.

A woman shouted in a language Etzel did not know.

Saeva went pale.

“I know that sound.”

“What sound?”

She looked at him.

“Summoning.”

Not a summon arriving.

A summon being forced.

The floor shook.

Renn’s voice exploded over comms.

“Extraction chamber active! All teams accelerate!”

Etzel ran.

They hit the bottom corridor.

The cell doors were opening automatically.

Not to free prisoners.

To move them.

At the far end, a woman stood behind reinforced glass.

Black hair.

Gray eyes.

Silver chain around one wrist.

She saw DK first.

Then Saeva.

Then Etzel.

The question in front of them had not turned just because they had named part of it. The practical thing about hunting something dangerous was that lies became expensive. Etzel could tell himself he had understood a pattern, but the next claw would grade the result. He could tell himself a plan was clever, but the terrain would decide whether clever mattered. That kept him honest. It also kept him alive often enough to continue being annoying, which he considered a secondary but meaningful benefit. If this became another lesson hidden inside 'The Menagerie', Etzel intended to survive long enough to complain about it.

Etzel used the pause to reset the formation instead of pretending the previous exchange had gone perfectly. He pointed out the mistake first—his own. That turned the mood faster than an order would have. Orsik corrected the angle. Saeva demonstrated her opinion with an exaggerated wobble in the air. Someone laughed, briefly, and the tension loosened without disappearing. Then they moved again. The hazard had not become smaller. They had simply become less willing to give it the same mistake twice. If this became another lesson hidden inside 'The Menagerie', Etzel intended to survive long enough to complain about it.

His body kept a separate record of the hunt. Bruised ribs, tight forearm, the hot line of an older wound protesting every hard turn. The System could call that irrelevant if it wanted. Etzel could not. He adjusted his grip and shortened his stride. Power that only worked while fresh was not power he trusted. Orsik saw the adjustment. 'Better.' Etzel measured offended. 'That sounded almost supportive.' 'Do not become distracted.' 'There it is.' If this became another lesson hidden inside 'The Menagerie', Etzel intended to survive long enough to complain about it.

The practical thing about hunting something dangerous was that lies became expensive. Etzel could tell himself he had understood a pattern, but the next claw would grade the result. He could tell himself a plan was clever, but the terrain would decide whether clever mattered. That kept him honest. It also kept him alive often enough to continue being annoying, which he considered a secondary but meaningful benefit. If this became another lesson hidden inside 'The Menagerie', Etzel intended to survive long enough to complain about it.

Her expression did not become hopeful.

It became terrified.

She slammed both hands against the glass and screamed one word.

Etzel did not know the language.

DK did.

Orsik’s face went white.

“What did she say?” Etzel asked.

DK drew the Greatblade.

“Run.”

Behind the woman, something inside the extraction chamber opened its eyes.