Jelo immediately realized what the scientist’s words meant. The traps scattered around the area must have caught someone else, and the only person it could be was Mira. It fit the scientist perfectly, someone this paranoid would definitely surround his bunker with traps and safeguards.
The thought unsettled Jelo and pushed him to think deeper about the situation. He started questioning the true nature of the experiment being conducted here. He wondered whether the work was genuinely important or if the scientist was suffering from delusions of grandeur, convincing himself that his research mattered more than it actually did.
From Jelo’s perspective, the logic didn’t add up. Earth’s military was highly advanced, well-funded, and constantly researching both human and Dabba abilities with technology far beyond anything improvised. They had entire departments dedicated to studying monster cores, entire facilities analyzing ability evolution, and labs that could simulate Dabba environments with perfect accuracy.
Teams of researchers worked around the clock, backed by unlimited resources and the collective knowledge of humanity’s best minds. The military had access to every known Dabba specimen, every recorded ability mutation, every piece of data collected from the front lines where soldiers fought and died daily.
With all those resources, Jelo struggled to understand how anything hidden in this rundown bunker could surpass what entire governments were developing. What could one paranoid scientist, working alone in secret, possibly discover that the military’s top researchers hadn’t already found?
It made no sense. Unless the man was genuinely brilliant and sitting on a breakthrough that would change everything, or unless he was completely delusional and wasting his time on experiments that led nowhere. Either way, Jelo was trapped here, bound to whatever madness the scientist believed he was conducting.
The more Jelo thought about it, the more suspicious it all seemed. Why work in isolation? Why hide away in some forgotten bunker instead of joining the military’s research divisions where he’d have proper funding and equipment? Was he exiled? Rejected? Or was he running from something? The questions piled up in Jelo’s mind, but none of them had answers. Not yet.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when the scientist snapped his fingers repeatedly in front of him, demanding his attention. The sharp sounds cut through Jelo’s internal questioning like whip cracks.
"Pay attention when I’m speaking," the scientist said, irritation clear in his voice.
Jelo’s eyes refocused on the man standing before him.
"I’m leaving to retrieve your friend," the scientist announced, adjusting his coat as he prepared to leave.
Jelo’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The scientist turned toward the exit, then paused and glanced back over his shoulder. "Stay put and don’t cause trouble," he said casually, as if speaking to a disobedient child.
Then he laughed, a hearty, choked sound that grated against Jelo’s nerves. "Not that you could do anything even if you tried. You’re restrained and bound to the machine, completely unable to interfere."
He gestured toward the restraints with an almost theatrical flourish. "But do feel free to struggle. The data might be interesting."
Jelo bit back the retort forming on his tongue. Dam it. He wanted to spit something harsh, something that would wipe that smug expression off the scientist’s face, but he forced himself to stay silent.
It wasn’t because he suddenly gained control over his temper. It was because he realized that any punishment the scientist handed out might not stop with him. It could reach Mira, and he refused to let that happen.
A part of him said Mira chose to hunt Dabba on her own. He never forced her. She made her own decisions, took her own risks, and walked into danger with her eyes open. She knew what she was getting into when she followed him through that portal. She wasn’t naive. She wasn’t helpless. She was capable, skilled even, and she proved that every time they faced Dabba together.
But another part said the situation still felt partly his fault. If she hadn’t learned that he needed to eat Dabba hearts, she wouldn’t have seen an opportunity to sneak off with him. She wouldn’t have pushed herself to prove she could help. She wouldn’t be out there right now, caught in some trap, waiting for a lunatic to drag her back here. The guilt gnawed at him, quiet but persistent, like a splinter he couldn’t pull out.
At the same time, Jelo questioned whether he was being too harsh on her. Without Mira, he never would have broken into the teacher’s office. He never would have accessed the portal room, and he might never have learned about the Arena Nexus. She was the one who convinced him to take risks he wouldn’t have taken alone.
She pushed him forward when he hesitated, and her stubbornness kept him moving even when doubt crept in.
He acknowledged that she was stubborn and willingly put herself in danger, but he couldn’t deny how important she was to him. That realization hardened his resolve to protect her, if he could.
Jelo forced his thoughts down and stayed silent, watching as the scientist turned and walked toward the bunker’s exit. The man moved with calm confidence, as if retrieving a trapped student was just another minor task on his list.
He didn’t look back, didn’t offer any further warnings or threats. He simply left, his footsteps echoing through the cold metal corridor until they faded completely. The heavy door sealed shut behind him with a metallic clang that echoed through the room, followed by the hiss of pressurized locks engaging.
Silence settled over the bunker.
Inside, anger churned violently in Jelo’s chest. The familiar pull of obsession and grief resurfaced, urging him toward revenge. The scientist captured him, stripped him of his abilities, and bound him to this machine. He treated Jelo like an experiment, like something less than human, and now he was going after Mira too. The thought of her trapped, helpless, waiting for that man to drag her back here, made Jelo’s blood boil.
He could feel that hatred settling deep, coiling tight in his gut, waiting for a chance to be unleashed.