Ever since she was a child, she only knew the church and its research labs; they were a home to her at the time. At first there were multiple children with her surviving the cruelty of the church under the pretense of research and advancement. They were used as subjects to experiment on. She had made many friends; they understood each other because of their situation. There were many types of subjects in the facility. First, the obvious ones who wanted to escape it: Love fell into this category, but she was too much of a coward to flee. Next were the types to believe in church and their ideals.
There was this ideology of the church, that this world is an illusion; everything you do and everything you will do doesn't matter. Because one day. The promised king would come and free us from this illusion. They believed this king is a force that existed before our universe.
They also said that he can interact with them through dreams. Giving them orders and commands.
But Love thought every time, she has spent her entire life in an organization that worships this being; why hasn't he visited me? Why am I not even allowed to know his name?
The question bugged her throughout her short life.
Perhaps this was because she was special. Because of all her friends and children, only she managed to survive in this hell. Sometimes she thought that surviving was way worse. M- Maybe she should have just died. Who knows? Perhaps she has, and it's just all an illusion in her head.
She still has nightmares about those days, especially about the black, ugly, and viscous liquid she was forced to bathe in.
What did they call it?
'Ah, the black water or the drop of abyss'
Perhaps because of this crazy experimentation, she had received her unique powers.
She can make a clone of herself that has any elemental affinity. Currently she can only call upon the avatars of fire, lightning, and water. But she can only maintain two effectively.
And this is one of love's powers. This power was due to the Thread of Fracture.
Next was Energy Manipulation.
And that's why she has an invisible collar around her neck. This was to control her behavior and also to kill her if she disobeyed.
She was a fucking dog.
***
Tonight was like any other. After eating dinner, she had to fulfill her daily routine.
She had stood in front of the research lab that she had to get herself checked at every day.
The room hadn't changed much except there was no one inside except for the senior archivist, Pell. His expressions today were a bit odd. He was almost excited.
"Ah. It seems it's just you and me now. I think the others have gone for some documentation." He said, "Come sit here."
He pointed to a chair beside him.
Love was skeptical of his behavior; he had never been kind to her. He was always the one to treat her as an object. Seeing this, she had no reason to comply.
"No need, Doctor." she said nervously. "I'd like to finish the test faster, since I have work tonight.
She was feeling that something was off tonight. Even if they had documentation, they were the kind of person that would delay it until tomorrow, however important it may be. She was hesitant.
Hearing her answer, his expression changed from a smile to a frown.
"Are you refusing me?" He said, placing a hand on a device,
As soon as he pressed a button, Love felt her collar tightening around her. It was getting to the point that she couldn't breathe.
Gasp
She reached out her hand to hold her neck and gasped for air.
Her face was getting red, and her vision was turning black. When suddenly the collar loosened.
And she collapsed.
"How about it now?" he asked with an authoritative voice. "Are you still going to refuse?"
She stood up, breathing heavily,
'Bastard'
Not wanting to get tortured tonight, she got closer to him and sat beside him.
"See was that so hard" he said. "Just obey me, and everything will be fine."
Just as he said that, his hands slid down her thighs, caressing them softly.
The instant his hands touched her thigh, she chilled and tried to shake it away.
"What are you doing, Doctor?" She asked with a clenched fist.
"Making your life easier." He said with a grin on his face, "See, just let me have some fun, and then I promise you no one in this facility will harass you."
Love had started to break down internally. She knew where this was going, and she didn't want that. She was going to get molested. During all her time in church, she had lost many things. Her friends, her sanity, and she also got tortured. But still, she always survived. During this time, the only thing that she had with her was her dignity. And it seemed tonight she was going to lose it too.
But something deep within her soul burned fiercely. Something that she wanted to let out.
She looked at the senior doctor, who was about 40 or 50, with a slightly nervous and fearful gaze.
"Please. Don't." She whispered, "I beg of you"
However, of course, that didn't stop him. He seemed to be enraged. He then once again took the device in his hands. Despite the nervousness cloaking her, the burning fire within her continued to rise.
"Get down on all fours, bitch!." He commanded, "I decided to play nice tonight, but no, it seems I'll have to break you. You filthy bitch."
She, shivering from the device's effect, grunted with a low voice.
"You don't have to do this, doctor. Please" she voiced
But before she could continue further, he intervened with an enraged voice.
"Do you think your opinion matters?" He said, "You work under me. I could make things really difficult for you. Or would it be better to make you unconscious and pass you around like a whore?"
She shivered at the thought of that, and despite crying inside, she for a moment thought of complying. But something arose from deep within her.
Something closer to hate. And then a sudden steam radiated from her body, covering the entire room in a thick smog. Her body began to change. Her default black hair began turning fiery red. Her eyes, which looked normal a moment ago, now looked like wildfire filled with hate and anger.
The archivist, seeing this, panicked. He quickly brought the device closer, and just as he was about to subdue, Love kicked him in the groin.
Then an agonizing scream followed. But now was not the time to think. As love started to run, she ran towards the door. And just as she was about to open, the device that clung close to her neck pulsed and suddenly forced her breath out.
"Heh, bitch thought you could just escape after what you did." He rose with a device in his hands; he had tentacles floating outwards from his back, continuing to wriggle in the air.
"I'll show you what it means to disobey me, you filthy experiment" He spat with poison laced.
Love, meanwhile, struggled to even breathe. The collar was specifically designed to suck out essence and to counter her transformation.
Her fiery red hair was turning black. With every passing moment, she felt weaker than before
She didn't have much time if she wanted to escape. Because once her transformation ended, she would just be another normal layer 2. And there would be no escaping.
Keeping that in mind, she forced herself to do something. Something she usually didn't do.
Clutching her neck, she forced out a clone.
An identical copy of her separated from her body. At first it seemed limp and devoid of life. Then a sudden jolt of life passed through her. Making her pupils bright yellow. Her hair gained a hint of yellow over the existing black.
"This is the last chance I'm giving you" Pell voiced. "You think your spilt would help you out."
Then a grin appeared on his old face. Raising his black tentacle, he shot it forward towards the clone created by Love. "I'll destroy it before it even moves!" He yelled, laughing maniacally.
But before the tentacle could hit it, the body seemingly vanished to the naked eye, and the tentacle struck the wall beside Love.
The archivist Pell stood still, and just as the reality hit him, a Silhouette appeared behind him. The yellow-haired clone appeared like thunder.
The yellow-haired love grabbed his neck from behind and passed an enormous amount of electricity through him.
Pell tried to resist with his tentacles, trying to grab her, but his whole nervous system seemingly just fried before he could. Not one of his tentacles could move.
After shocking him, she released her grip on him. Causing him to slam onto the ground.
The scream died in the room, leaving behind only the low hum of machinery and Love's ragged breathing.
The senior archivist lay crumpled on the floor, twitching.
The smell of ozone filled the laboratory, sharp and metallic, cutting through the antiseptic stench that had soaked into the walls over years of experiments. Sparks danced briefly along the metal restraints bolted into the floor, then faded.
Love stood frozen near the door.
Her chest heaved. Each breath felt scraped raw, like her lungs were still catching up to the fact that they were allowed to exist. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably, nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood.
She stared at her hands.
They didn't feel like hers.
The heat that had flooded her moments ago was gone, replaced by a cold, hollow exhaustion that crept into her bones. Her hair had already returned to its usual dark color, strands clinging to her neck with sweat. Her knees threatened to give out.
She reverted to her base body.
Behind her, a sound crackled.
A sharp, impatient click of static.
"Tch. He talks too much."
Love flinched and turned.
The girl standing there looked like her, but not quite.
Her posture was loose, almost careless, like she didn't understand the concept of stillness. Strands of her hair flickered yellow at the edges, refusing to settle. Her eyes glowed faintly, pupils too bright, constantly shifting focus as though the room were moving faster than it should.
She bounced once on her heels.
Then again.
"So," the girl said, voice fast, words tripping over each other, "is he dead-dead or just unconscious-dead?"
Love swallowed.
Her throat burned.
"I… I don't know," she said hoarsely.
The lightning split, tilting her head, squinting at the archivist sprawled on the floor. His limbs lay at unnatural angles. One of his tentacles twitched once, then went slack.
She crouched down and poked him with her shoe.
Nothing.
The clone nodded, satisfied. "Yeah. Dead."
She straightened abruptly, grinning—not with joy, but with something sharp and brittle.
"Wow. First kill, huh? Not bad. Kind of messy, though."
Love's stomach turned.
"That's not funny," she whispered.
"Oh." The lightning split and blinked. "Right. Sorry. I forget that you still feel things."
She scratched the back of her neck, electricity snapping softly between her fingers like nervous ticks.
"Okay, okay. Important question time," the clone said. "Can we take the collar off now? Because wow, that thing is killing the vibe."
Love lifted a shaking hand to her throat.
The collar was still there. Smooth. Cold. Silent. Its presence pressed against her like a constant reminder that escape had never been meant to be permanent.
"No," Love said quietly. "The main control isn't here."
The lightning split's grin faded.
"… What?"
"The override," Love continued. "It's not local. The signal routes back to Nuan. A cardinal holds the master key."
She closed her eyes.
"If we mess with it without authorization… it detonates the suppression array. Essence drain. Maybe death."
The clone stared at her.
Then she laughed. A short, sharp sound.
"Oh. That's great. That's just fantastic. So we're still on a leash."
Love nodded once.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of machines and the distant echo of guards moving somewhere far above.
The lightning split crossed her arms, foot tapping rapidly against the floor.
"So let me get this straight," she said. "We killed a senior archivist. We can't remove the collar. And now the Church is going to hunt us like dogs."
Love's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Yes."
The clone let out a low whistle.
"… Damn."
Love felt something inside her crack—not loudly, not all at once. Just enough to let despair seep through.
"So what do we do?" the clone asked, quieter now.
Love opened her mouth.
No answer came.
Her thoughts scattered, slipping through her grasp like sand. Every option led to the same end. Running meant pursuit. Hiding meant exposure. Staying meant execution—or worse.
She thought of the Principal.
Nicole Richards. Maybe if she doesn't immediately kill me?
The thought alone felt dangerous.
"… I need help," Love murmured. "
The lightning split snapped her fingers.
"The Principal."
Love nodded.
"But if I go to her like this," she continued, "I won't make it past the gates. The collar will flag, and I will die before I talk to her"
The clone looked down at herself.
"You should gain the attention of Cardinal on the same level as Nuan to escape the fate of dying. "
At the flickering light beneath her skin.
Before Love could respond, the lightning split's body began to destabilize.
Cracks of light spread across her arms and legs, fracturing her form like glass under pressure. Her grin faltered.
"Oh. Hey. That's… not good."
"Wait," Love said, panic flaring. "Don't—"
Too late.
The lightning avatar dissolved into a cascade of sparks, scattering into the air like dying fireflies. The last thing to fade was her eyes, still bright, still restless.
Then she was gone.
Love staggered as the energy rushed back into her body.
Pain exploded through her nerves. Her vision swam. She collapsed against the wall, barely catching herself before hitting the floor. Her limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, like she had been hollowed out and refilled with lead.
Her essence reserves were gone.
Empty.
For a long moment, she just sat there, forehead pressed against the cold metal wall, breathing shallowly.
Guards could arrive any second.
She forced herself to move.
Slowly, mechanically, she crossed the room. Each step felt wrong, like she was walking through someone else's body. She knelt beside the archivist's corpse.
Her hands hesitated.
Then she began to work.
She lifted him—just enough to seat him upright in his chair. Straightened his back. Adjusted his coat. Smoothed his hair. Wiped blood from his mouth and chin with trembling fingers.
She arranged the tentacles neatly behind the chair, out of immediate sight.
She fixed her own uniform next. Pulled her jacket straight. Smoothed her skirt. Wiped sweat from her face. Forced her expression into something neutral.
Something empty.
When she was done, it looked… normal.
Like a man who had fallen asleep at his desk.
Love took one last look at the room.
Then she ran.
She slipped into the corridor, heart hammering, senses screaming for danger. Every shadow felt like a threat. Every sound made her flinch.
She didn't stop until she reached the surface.
The night air hit her like a shock.
Cold. Clean. Real.
She stumbled into the park, barely aware of where she was going.