He was originally nad John, a very common na.
He vaguely rembered living in a small village outside Graystone Fortress.
The house leaked wind, his mother coughed heavily, his father died in a mine collapse that winter.
Later, when famine struck, people in the village began sending their children to the "Charity Garden", saying that at least they could eat enough there.
He was among the last batch sent in, by then his mother had only a breath left, telling him to be obedient and live well.
At that place, indeed there was good food and drink for a while; back then he still believed that the people in white robes under the lamp were kind.
Until one day, he was pressed onto a tal table.
Cold instrunts, restraining rings, a needle piercing his spine... his screams were stuffed into his throat, as if plunged underwater.
Later, even the voice disappeared.
Pain was cut off, mory was hollowed out, na was erased.
Only the number was left: No. 2371.
His world was pared down to just a few words:
Climb upward, kill everything in the way, destroy...
Early today, he was pulled out of the cage, a tal tube was inserted between the joints of his chest and collarbone, when the liquid was pushed in, his whole body felt like it was being ignited from within.
A bottle of dark red potion, murkier than ever before.
The tubes trembled under his skin.
Blood seed filled with sothing unfamiliar.
Heartbeat forcibly accelerated, stomach convulsed, sll and hearing thrown into chaos.
This was just a completed sample of the last process.
The command buzzed loud in No. 2371’s mind: Climb upward, climb upward, climb upward...
So he climbed the black steel stones of the Imperial Capital wall, limbs splayed in reverse joints, moving like a giant gecko stripped of vocal cords.
Fingernails embedded in the rock seams, the sound of "kak-kak" was light almost to unaudibility.
No. 2371 slled the scent of blood... the sll stirred the black mist inside his chest into agitation.
Red thin mist seeped from beneath his skin, coursing along the veins to his limbs, surging like a living thing.
It was thoroughly twisted blood-colored fighting energy.
With each heartbeat, the red mist would spread half an inch around him, painting the shadows of the wall crimson.
The muscles of his forearm tightened, deford, and faintly beneath the skin, structures resembling scales attempted to grow.
Like a remnant soul of so ancient dragon race, low-roaring within him.
The potion’s heat continued to burn upward.
His chest would occasionally feel a brief sensory void, like a heart forgetting to beat for a mont.
Breathing beca shallower, back and shoulders occasionally twitched slightly.
These were manifestations of the "Terminal Agent".
At this dosage, survival would last no more than two days.
But this knowledge, he did not comprehend; he did not need to understand.
He only needed to execute the commands Raymond had personally nailed into his consciousness.
Climb upward.
Kill everything in the way.
Destroy.
So he continued to climb, knuckles grinding out sparks on the black steel stones.
Suddenly, a scorching liquid was poured from above.
Acidic liquid, saliva of a green dragon, a normal human would not even have ti to scream in this stuff, turning into a pool of bloodwater; even the fighting energy of elite knights would be corroded by this acid.
Yet No. 2371 did not move.
No, it’s only that this minor attack couldn’t even activate his surface instincts.
The acid fell on his back and shoulders, his skin giving off an ear-piercing hiss.
But the next instant, the hidden power within him boiled as if enraged, bones creaking...
Under the cover of the blood-colored fighting energy, gray-black keratin scales rapidly proliferated, like the residual shadow of ancient dragon blood awakening beneath the skin.
The scales not only hardened but slightly reflected a tallic sheen, like a second layer of exoskeleton born for battle.
Acid t the surface only to be forcefully repelled, leaving behind only faint white smoke.
A scale was corroded, then imdiately another grew.
Corroded again, regrown.
No. 2371 felt no pain, he simply executed the orders... continued climbing.
Light suddenly flared at the top of the wall.
That was the sign of the array’s activation.
Holy protection’s golden lightning exploded above his head, magic power scorched his scales, sizzling like at on a roast.
Thunder pierced from his back through his whole body, any knight would’ve been disrupted, senses collapsing, bleeding from orifices.
Yet No. 2371 paused for less than half a heartbeat.
His muscles and bones swiftly adapted, strengthened under lightning, even morizing the electrical paths to further reduce the damage of the next bolt, but his movent didn’t stop.
He didn’t even know what pain was.
Scales burnt by lightning quickly blood anew, harder than before.
Closer.
The holy protection array node lay above, a silver device embedded in the wall, inscribed with intricate patterns.
No. 2371 raised his hand; it wasn’t called nails anymore, but the embryonic form of a dragon claw.
"Kacha!" Breaking off the tal latch fixed to the node.
He raised his head and bit onto the exposed magic conduit stone.
Sharp fangs bit deeply, "Kala!" magic exploding in his mouth.
The array node was bitten off forcibly.
In that instant, the magic power in surrounding nodes felt like a beast had bitten through its spine, entirely paralyzed.
The mage on the wall stood stunned: "Mon... Monster—!"
His scream rushed out of his throat, No. 2371’s vertical pupils already locked onto his position.
......
The knights were initially horrified by the dragonblood youths climbing the wall, but fear was swiftly swallowed by deeper waves...
Because the darkness outside the wall was being torn open by newer, more orderly hoofbeats.
It was the rhythmic march of the knight legion.
Thousands upon thousands... more and more armor reflecting the faint light under the night, like tides pressing toward the Imperial Capital walls.
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