"The Thorne Empire occupies the southeastern peninsula of the continent, bordered by the Niel Mountains to the north, the Verdant Seas to the west, and the Endless Dark Fields to the south. Within these natural barriers exist other nations and empires filled with peoples who wage their own wars against the encroaching darkness. The Church's influence is also spread within these foreign nations and empires."

Deeply engrossed in his reading, Nero seemed to forget the passing of time for a moment.

The book also explained more details about the Blitzers.

Despite being the most common type of Templar armor, they were still incredibly expensive to produce and maintain. Each suit required materials harvested from Grade D and above Abominations, refined through processes that took months and involved dozens of craftsmen from the Ironherd Order. The enchantments alone, etched into every plate and joint, required enchanters working in tandem to ensure the runes wouldn't destabilize and turn the wearer into a biological bomb.

Nero traced his finger along the page, reading about the specifications. A fully equipped Blitzer stood at about eight feet tall and weighed close to four hundred pounds with all the plating attached. The armor enhanced the wearer's strength by a factor of three, allowed them to march for days without rest, and could withstand attacks that would reduce an unarmored human to paste with but a single strike. The helmet alone contained runes that filtered corruption from the air and projected the wearer's voice with unnatural clarity.

But what caught Nero's attention most was a small note scrawled in the margin of the book, written in a different hand than the main text.

"Consumption begets change."

Nero read the note twice, his brow furrowing.

There was no mention of what the Templars had to do to maintain such strength however. But he knew it all to well...

They drank the blood of the cursed. That bitter, rancid, profane ichor.

Hence the meaning of the words, "Consumption begets change" did not elude him.

Still, that did not bother him much.

After all, he also needed to consume the bodies of Abominations to become stronger. Who was he to question others?

Still, there was just something rather... off-putting about it.

He closed the book and willed it back into the Mark, the crimson light flashing briefly before it vanished. Then he forced himself to take another spoonful of porridge, chewing mechanically despite the nausea still churning in his gut.

The mess hall remained empty around him, the only sound the faint scrape of his spoon against the bowl. Through the narrow windows set high in the walls, he could see the sky beginning to lighten, the darkness giving way to a dull grey that promised another overcast day.

Nero wondered what Lyon had planned for him today. The past ten days had been unpredictable, each morning bringing some new horror disguised as procedure or conditioning exercise.

Yesterday, they had made him drink something that tasted like copper and ash, then watched as his body convulsed for an hour while the liquid burned through his veins. Lyon had explained afterward that it was a concentrated extract of Abomination blood, meant to prepare his system for what was to be done today.

'I wonder what it could be.' he thought to himself.

Then his brows furrowed,

The memory made him push the bowl away, his appetite gone entirely.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, heavy and deliberate, and Nero turned his head to see a Blitzer enter the mess hall. The Templar's armor was battered and scarred, the crimson metal chipped in places to reveal nothing but darkness beneath.

They moved with the practiced efficiency of someone who had worn the armor for years, their movements smooth despite the bulk.

The Templar stopped at the far end of the hall, their visored helm turning to regard Nero for a moment. Then they walked to the food counter, collected a tray, and sat down at a table on the opposite side of the room.

Nero watched them for a moment, curious. The Templar removed their helmet, revealing a man perhaps in his thirties with a shaved head and a face covered in faint scars. He ate quickly and methodically, not looking up from his food.

Nero considered trying to speak to him again but decided against it. The last attempt had been awkward enough, and he didn't need another silent stare to remind him how isolated he was here.

Instead, he stood from the table, leaving his half-eaten porridge behind, and made his way out of the mess hall. The corridors were beginning to fill with activity now, Templars moving between rooms with purpose, their armor clanking softly with each step. Nero kept to the sides, pressing himself against the wall when a group of three Blitzers marched past in formation.

He made his way toward the medical wing where Lyon's facility was located, knowing that he was expected to arrive by the time the sun fully rose. The walk took him through several intersections and down two flights of stairs, the temperature dropping noticeably as he descended.

When he finally reached the iron door to Lyon's facility, he found it already open. Inside, the room was bustling with activity. Methan and Alvi were adjusting one of the large machines near the center, while Lyon stood off to the side speaking with another doctor Nero didn't recognize.

Lyon looked up as Nero entered and gestured for him to approach.

"Good morning, Nero. I trust you slept well?"

Nero shrugged. "Well enough."

"Good. We have a busy day ahead of us." Lyon turned to the other doctor and nodded. "This is Doctor Kael. He specializes in spiritual conditioning and will be assisting with today's procedures."

Kael was a thin man with hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He regarded Nero with an expression that might have been pity or curiosity, Nero couldn't tell which.

"Pleased to meet you," Kael said quietly.

Nero nodded in response, unsure what else to say.

Lyon clapped his hands together once, drawing everyone's attention. "Right then. Let's begin."

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