《No Body Minds, Or: Transmigrating Into the Villain but He's Still There!!!》 Nothings Certain but Death and Server Errors Mars didn¡¯t have a body. This was partially a good thing: he didn¡¯t particularly like his body. However, he couldn¡¯t not acknowledge the cons. For example, he didn¡¯t have a body. Which meant he couldn¡¯t move. Or speak. Or touch. Also, he might have been dead. Which was not ideal. Speaking from my place in the Heavens, I can confirm this sorry state of him. He was no more. The boy had died as the direct result of a suicide joke. He hadn''t even gotten the chance to share it with the other mentally fucked 20-somethings he called his friends, the one''s he''d only known through pixels and speakers. It was cruel of Fate to place such tricks during this brief respite from his mental anguish. He had been numb for so long, desperate to find a new body, to fix his broken mind, but filled with too much apathy and too little money to do anything about it. Then, the pendulum swung the other way. Not to mania. Mars, despite what his sister tried to claim, was not bipolar. But for some odd reason his brain fog had cleared, his mood had lifted, and his body had finally begun to move under his careful direction. Maybe the meds had finally kicked in, maybe the new job he finally found had lifted some stress, maybe it was everyone finally calling him by his real name. Maybe the human mind was unfathomably complicated and his endocrine glands happened to click in place with no rhyme or reason, releasing the right amount of hormones at the right time for the first time in his formerly sorry existence. I, personally, do not know the reason. I am not omniscient. My knowledge of the mortal realm is limited at best. I don¡¯t even work there. But I do mourn for the souls I work with, especially the ones with potential snuffed out at the turning point in their journeys. Because of this, it is my honor to chronical their new stories. I am a hand of Heaven¡¯s journal, archiving the lives of those who go through The System. And this story is not about me, but a young man who had died at the happiest time in his life because he dared to joke about the sad times. Mars had gotten take-out. He was dining on his splendid spoils of orange chicken and lo mein. It was a treat for beating his executive functions into submission and replacing the faulty wall socket by his bedroom door. With noodles springing from his pursed lips like an eldritch tentacle monster, inspiration struck. He took the recently-freed wall socket cover and his plastic fork, still glistening with the golden brown of orange chicken sauce, and he shoved them together. He was going to take a picture of it. Send it to his friends along with the message ¡°why isn¡¯t this working!???¡± In his strangely happy state, he began to laugh. Which was good, at first. Something so stupid and cringe had been able to crack through to the surface. He was happy! Or, at least, he was normal. And sometimes, that was good enough. He kept laughing. And laughing. And laughing. The joke wasn¡¯t even that funny, but couldn¡¯t stop that simple moment of dumb joy from seizing his chest into a chaotic rhythm. The problem, of course, were the noodles. They were still unchewed before the shifting contours of his throat. He couldn¡¯t breathe from the laughter. Then, he couldn¡¯t breathe at all as he started to choke. Then, he no longer had a body. In that place where he was not, a gentle buzz of static fizzled in the spot that wasn¡¯t his ear. There was something, that wasn¡¯t really anything at all, but was because he knew it to be, in the same space that he wasn¡¯t but could have been. That must have been confusing. It was confusing for him too. I will try to make this easier for you. Mars¡¯ not-body didn¡¯t float in space, since he wasn¡¯t there. But you should probably imagine he was, as nothingness is difficult to imagine. Describe a color to the fully blind or speak of music to the fully deaf, those who never saw nor heard since birth. Certain things one cannot understand until experienced. Do your best to understand Mars¡¯ predicament. Or, lie to yourself and give him a body if you must. Give him a loose splattering of freckles across his olive skin, like stars manifest in human flesh. Give him a protruding, curved nose like his father, who wore his heritage as the son of two Lebanese immigrants with pride. Give him auburn hair like his mother, the many-greats granddaughter of an Irish woman who fled just before the potato famine. If you a medium had the fortune of meeting her, behind that sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued woman would be her almost-perfect copy (if a little skinnier, and wearing clothes over a century out of fashion). A firm hand would be set on her descendant¡¯s shoulder. In life, Mars had glimpsed the spirit many times while he crept to the fridge in the dead of night, but he had never known the difference. In death, the two weren''t bound to meet again, and so he never would know. Now, for his frame, give him the lightest touch of muscle peaking through his softer features. Give him two thin scars just below his pecs because he wasn¡¯t afraid of that body he once carried. He would want to honor it, and also honor its change. He had never been able to afford the procedure in life, so let him live the fantasy while it is in your power. This body you have created is close to that which he wore in life, though a bit truer. Finally, if you would be so bold, give him bright violet eyes. That is an indulgent addition, but if this form is not real anyway, why not? He had always imagined himself the main character of all the trope-filled novels he read while he squirreled himself away from the harsh existence of reality. There was a comfort in being the hero, being important, being special. And main characters had ridiculous eye colors because they were the special, important hero. It was a rule. In fact, let¡¯s make one eye green and one eye violet since we are taking liberties anyway. Heterochromia is aggressively ¡°main character.¡± Almost cringingly so. He would love it. As Mars floated, a light trailed before his not-eyes in the shape of a rectangle. It had a meteor¡¯s tail, but in reality it too had no form or shape. Even as he understood its color (a true, computer green to match his right eye), there were no photons bouncing into his imaginary corneas. But you are smart. You have followed me so far. You understand the patterns here. The tail of the light grew longer until its end connected its front. The area inside that rectangle of light flashed a few times, before text clicked onto what was then a screen. Since the dawn of the Internet, The System redesigned its user-interface to match mortal expectations. Hello, Mars. You are dead. Unfortunately, The System knew as little about the mortal psyche as I do. Despite its best attempts, Mars was scared out of his wits. He was definitely dead. Of course he knew he had to be, but it hit harder to see it. He had failed to live. He was finally happy, and he still failed to live. Which made him depressed, but not yet in the clinical sense. That was a positive, at least. Another positive. He was ever the optimist, lately. Though, his mood didn''t improve much. The screen changed. I am Laika, your friendly artificial intelligence! I will personally assist you with all your transmigratory needs. ¡­Mars¡¯ mood improved this time! He had read a lot of serialized web novels. Mostly danmei. He knew what transmigration meant: he was about to go on a 100+ chapter slow burn romance as, like, a goldfish or something. There would be perils and world politics and blah blah blah. But he might actually get his autistic ass to fall in love. Maybe get laid, if his libido allowed it. This was great news! Who cares if he was turned into a sentient chair or something? It beat tits. And clinical depression. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. So, more excited that he realized, said, ¡°Hi, Laika! I¡¯ve actually read about this! Am I going into a book world or something to¡­¡± He was pretty sure systems had character quests. And they were not always related to smooching the unrealistically attractive man The System not-so secretly shipped him with. Even if the quests were so blatantly amorous, he wasn¡¯t especially bold. He actually hated interacting with physical friends in that abomination called the real world. Maybe his fantasies of man-smooching would become undesirable once manifested. The body he did not have shuttered and he lost all of his excitement. ¡°...uh, I guess¡­will The System give me tasks?¡± Yes! This experience is very similar to the novels you have read! That might be bad. The novels always went wrong. But they were novels! Conflicts were necessary for a story to take place. Maybe everything would be fine. ¡°So, is the world I¡¯m going to from a story I know?¡± No. This would be tricky then. You have it backwards. The story you know is based on this world. She probably felt extremely clever pulling that line. The only thing stopping him from incorporeally sighing was the fact that he would probably make the same joke. And then he''d consider himself incredibly clever. ¡°So, which novel was inspired by my new home?¡± "Font of Demons" by M.X. Brady He knew that one. It was one of the web-novels he had scrounged up when he was fully depleted of translated boy-kisser xianxia. It was also awful. One of the classic ¡°hero starts with nothing ends with a ripped bod and over 100 partners, whose only character arc is the levelling up of his god-like powers." It did have a fascinating array of demons, from the "basically human but hotter and emo" variety that would make the more basic freaks drool, to the tentacle creatures and grotesque mishaps of creation that drew the monster fuckers, to the andromorphic animal demons to satisfy the fandom''s many furries. Around half of the hero¡¯s partners were men. And some of the partners had their own hobbies. Some might even say they had personalities, if you squinted. Mars had consumed an unprecedented number of works whose only merits ahead of a garbage heap were its ability to pass the excruciatingly painful seconds of existence. This novel was, by all means, a passable read. And the fandom was gay as shit, which was a bonus. He was about to use all he knew of the novel to good use. If you think about it, those 345k words he¡¯d ever inhaled in two days during a particularly dreadful low point where he couldn''t leave the rotten nest of his bed were the most important 345k words of his life. That made him oddly proud. ¡°So, am I the hero? His pet fish? Am I accidentally going to end up as that main villain? What was he called¡­ that demon with all those experiments... A-something? Or will I somehow end up as his talking chair or something? I think I could swing that¡­¡± Anyone. You can choose. Mars actually got to choose? He definitely shouldn¡¯t pick the fish option. There is no reason for him to become a fish. He should not choose the fi¨C He didn¡¯t get the chance. He wasn¡¯t even going to, anyway. He was about to change gears and go for the protagonist¡¯s best friend, figuring Lars Alfoy suffered a lot less than the main man himself. But as unluck would have it, everything went to shit. So it was going to be one of those System novels¡­ FUCK! The static that was once gentle became shrill, piercing. The nothingness that was once most aptly described as a dark void started flashing a metaphorical red. The System¡¯s screen glitched, different messages from Laika bursting to view in incomprehensible fragments. NO NO NO on lo ave yoursel dem rd !!!! e wants YOU need to BREA HELP!!!! sorry sorry sorry HOW HOW HWO free get FREE LEAVE le¨C Sorry, Mars. I wasn¡¯t able to protect you. Rebooting¡­ Then, a body that wasn¡¯t a body fell through the void that wasn¡¯t a void. Mars woke with a start. They felt their chest. Good, no tits. At least that part was correct. He scrambled out of his bed, which was fancier than he had expected. It was larger than a king with dark, silk sheets. He quickly found a mirror on a finely crafted vanity that was worth more than everything in his apartment back home. He must have been rich. That could be good. Money was power, after all. Ignoring the heaps of parchment and tomes and scrolls littering the floor, piled around the room, stacked on every surface including the desk-section of the vanity, he stared at himself. Mars¡¯ new body was handsome, but in a way most desired by degenerates on Tumblr. He was almost feminine in his willowy physique, but to his relief he was still identifiably male. Dark circles framed tired eyes, and his complexion was practically sickly. He wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he was undead. He had some other things to check. Three particular features of his anatomy... But as his fingers fondled the hem of his tunic, they froze. He tried to move them, urging his synapses to fire, to force his muscles to complete this simple task of stripping. Instead, his arms fell to their sides. The face in the mirror frowned at itself, which didn¡¯t match the panic Mars¡¯ would reflexively contort to. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be here,¡± Mars¡¯ new body said to himself. Those tired eyes woke, glinting with a malicious humor. Someone else was in the body. Someone bad was in this body. Controlling it. Fuck. The System gave no response. Server error. Please try again later. Mars would have cried, had he been in control of the tear ducts. He wanted to ask who the man was, but he couldn¡¯t move his own jaw. He couldn¡¯t do anything. The man responded anyway. ¡°I¡¯m Akakios. And who might you be?¡± There was a lilt to his voice, but it was a predatory kind of humor. "Mars," he thought but couldn''t say. ¡°Hmmm. Mars. This is quite the inconvenience.¡± Understatement of the century. Now that he heard it, he remembered. Akakios was the name of the most powerful villain in Font of Demons. Mars had been prepared to become the villain. He didn¡¯t want it, but he would not have been surprised. He could have figured out how to deal with that. But he wasn¡¯t even in control of his body. He was trapped in the head of a demon. The demon. And he didn''t even have a System. What the fuck was he going to do? "Now, what are we going to do with you, hm?" Mars didn''t think he would like the answer. What To Do With Him.... Akakios sauntered over to a bird cage. It was an exquisite construction, gilded in gold, though iron still lay underneath the finer, but soft metal. The cage was full of perches, had an assortment of little rests in the shape of small houses which were stuffed with all manner of precious metal trinkets and gens, and the toys the crow inside excitedly played with let out a discordant cacophony of chirping and clattering and tinkling. The corvid fluffed its wings contentedly as it saw its master approach, and hopped towards the cage¡¯s door in anticipation. The villain was oddly domestic, as if he had forgotten the stranger currently trapped inside his mind. He hummed a pleasant tune while he opened that door, and the crow greeted him with the same song. Akakios fed the little creature, scritched its neck, and then latched the cage once more. As they left, Mars couldn¡¯t help but ask ¡°What¡¯s its name?¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t have one yet,¡± the villain said, completely unbothered. He should be bothered. Shouldn¡¯t he? Mars was an intruder. He should be met by shock or anger or confusion, not indifference. But Mars thought it unwise to remind the villain of that fact. So he focused on the domestic. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t it have a name?¡± ¡°It¡¯s yet to need one.¡± Matter of fact. He was so deeply uncaring to the creature he clearly doted on just minutes before. The human could not wrap his mind around the villain¡¯s, even as they shared the same space. They descended down a series of stone stairs that would have left Mars exhausted had his original body trekked the same path. The body he was in didn¡¯t even sweat as they made the journey to the laboratory below. There, they faced a dozen minions, milling about the vast cavern that housed the villain¡¯s most important experiments. He had been using captured prisoners as test subjects, attaching different limbs to some of their bodies. Others, he had fed magical concoctions that altered their natural forms. Some of those had sprouted wings, or spoke in tongues, or shifted their component parts from cells to spirit-filled waters. Each was strapped down, caged, or contained in any possible manner considering the requirements of their new forms. The person molded of spirit water was contained in a fish tank large enough to hold a shark, but not large enough for that shark to survive its hold. The test subjects were in various states of distress. Some were bloody, others were screaming. Those who still had faces contorted their expressions into anguish. Mars would have puked as soon as they entered this horror show, but even involuntary responses were tied to the original¡¯s disposition. However, a weak wave of nausea managed to settle. The villain winced. ¡°You¡¯re not a fan, I take it?¡± Akakios asked, amused. A few minions turned to their master, but his words were directed to the air. They were not there to question their villain, so they simply went back to their tasks when they realized his words weren¡¯t meant for them. Mars, unheard by anyone but the villain, did answer. ¡°What are we doing here?¡± ¡°Fixing our little issue.¡± The human didn¡¯t understand why this powerful, arrogant demon deigned to answer him. Everything he had read of Font of Demons led him to believe Akakios was less than acquiescent, prone to unrestrained malice. Yet the villain had been nothing but calm this entire time, even placating Mars¡¯ questions when his underlings wouldn¡¯t dare to look their master in the eye. Laika had said the novel was based on the world, not the other way around. Maybe the story had taken liberties. Maybe the narrator was unreliable. Maybe the villain was different from the one-dimensional fanfic fodder that graced the novel¡¯s trashy, tropey pages. For reference, the amount of Akakios x the Hero fics were only matched in number by the ones that shipped Lars with the hero instead. This is because when canon is devoid of substance, the world becomes a blank slate for any aspiring freak to color in to their heart¡¯s desire. This world was apparently real, so the sandbox M.X. Brady created was no longer so malleable. This place was not sand. Mars could not build a castle. Whatever impression the villain had left in the original work was insubstantial compared to the real thing, with his own personality and motivations. In Brady¡¯s text, the villain was nothing but a few scraps of malicious, toying dialogue that was easy to misconstrue for fatal attraction to the hero. It was also easy to misconstrue for pure, unadulterated evil. The laboratory filled with cruel, painful experiments at its surface would compel anyone to agree to such an assessment. But there was clearly more to Akakios. Mars just couldn¡¯t figure out what it was. Was he malice incarnate? Was he more? In short, the villain was different than he had expected. That nuance might save him. But he couldn¡¯t trust what he knew of the text to navigate this world. So maybe he was screwed. He simply didn¡¯t know. The only thing the autistic human could think to do was¡­ ask. What was the worst thing that could happen? That the villain would grow angry? Find a way to murder the intruder? If he was already planning on doing that, asking couldn¡¯t make it worse. If he was planning on something else, asking a question probably wouldn¡¯t change his mind. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. But just in case, he said first, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± The villain laughed. The minions pretended not to notice. ¡°Sorry for what?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to be in your head any more than you want me here. I don¡¯t even know how this happened.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m aware. There¡¯s few foolish enough to want this pitiful existence, stuck in the mind of a demon.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t try to take your body over, either. I had no intent to fuck with you. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m here. I swear.¡± ¡°I believe you.¡± His voice still carried a lilt. He didn¡¯t sound mad. ¡°You don¡¯t sound mad.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m not.¡± Mars would have sighed with relief. Instead, the villain chuckled again. Okay, okay. The human was ready to ask, ¡°Are you planning on killing me?¡± The villain stopped laughing to answer a matter-of-fact, ¡°No.¡± Before Mars could stop himself, his thoughts blurted out, ¡°Wait, why?¡± ¡°Do you want me to kill you?¡± Mars hesitated. A few months ago his answer would have been different. But he hadn¡¯t been plagued by his own mind in so long, he desperately wanted to stay alive to relish in his mental respite. Unfortunately, less than 24-hours ago he had died anyway. Now, he wasn¡¯t giving up a chance to live. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Good. We¡¯re on the same page.¡± ¡°What are you planning, then?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t expect your company, so I¡¯ve not yet perfected dual-spirit extraction. We need to get you out of my head, preferably without damaging either of our souls.¡± Without damaging either of our souls. Why was this conversation going so well? ¡°I¡¯ve decided this is the perfect opportunity for experimentation. While I¡¯ve been trying to perfect soul transference, few souls are willing to undergo my trials. Resistance has made the task needlessly difficult. If you work with me, I might finally get the chance to study a successful implementation of the procedure. Then, I can refine my process from there, one day to the point I can manipulate even unwilling souls. You, Mars, are a blessing, it seems.¡± So that was the reason. Unfortunately, it meant Mars was going to help the villain with his nefarious schemes. Fortunately, he wasn¡¯t really in the position to resist. He couldn¡¯t be accountable for whatever terrors the demon planned to unleash following his release. But what would become of him, once he served his use? ¡°What will happen to me when we separate?¡± ¡°Are you worried I will torture you? Or make you play henchman?¡± Would answering yes offend the demon? Mars didn¡¯t want to insult his lifeline. Before he could think of how to answer him, the demon spoke again. ¡°Don¡¯t think too much. As long as you don¡¯t stand against me when we separate, I don¡¯t have any reason to harm you.¡± ¡°So, how do we get this started? I¡¯ll help in any way I can.¡± ¡°Good boy,¡± Akakios muttered under his breath. Mars heard it. Of course he heard it. The body he was in said it. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know if I have anything I need you help with. But right now, I have a lot to get set up before we can attempt the procedure.¡± The villain made his way to a young man strapped down in leather bindings. He caressed the man¡¯s face with his fingertips, studying the body with a malicious humor once more glinting in his eyes. Even while struggling, the prisoner was beautiful. He had deep olive skin that matched Mars¡¯ original form, but no freckles speckled his cheeks. His hair fell in thick black waves that half-covered his face as he struggled. The villain¡¯s caress moved some of the locks to see him better. He was masculine, but still carried a refined beauty. Mars was envious of this body. He would give anything to call it his own. ¡°Is this a good vessel?¡± Akakios asked. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°When you transfer, would you like this body?¡± He had thought he¡¯d give anything. But as Mars realized what the villain was saying, his heart sank. ¡°I¡¯d share a body with him instead?¡± ¡°No, you¡¯d take this one over. It¡¯s much more convenient that way.¡± Mars¡¯ jaw would have dropped in horror. No. Fuck. He hadn¡¯t anticipated the cost of finding a new body, and he did not want to pay the price. He wasn¡¯t going to kill someone over this! How could he live with himself? ¡°Absolutely not!¡± The villain retracted his hand. ¡°Is it not to your satisfaction?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill someone for their body!¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be killing him. I will do it for you.¡± ¡°NO!¡± Akakios frowned. ¡°That¡¯s the only way, Mars.¡± ¡°Then kill me instead.¡± The demon stared at the body, struggling beneath his soft touch. A dark glint surfaced in his eyes, and as he raised his hand from the prisoner it transformed into a claw. He backhanded the young man. As he stepped away, a thin red line appeared on the prisoner¡¯s neck. The line thickened as blood leaked forth. The young man who had once been struggling against the bindings now struggled for life. His eyes widened with horror, and he gurgled up a few painful, wet final breaths. Then, his body slacked. He fell still. Mars couldn¡¯t do anything but watch the scene with a growing, aching dread. ¡°Why would you do that!?¡± ¡°If you didn¡¯t want the body, I have no other good use for the subject.¡± ¡°SO YOU KILLED HIM!?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Even his malicious humor was gone. All that was left was cold, heartless psychopathy. Mars wanted to cry. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We can find a body that suits you much better.¡± Mars was going to be sick. Except he wasn¡¯t. Because Akakios¡¯ body wouldn¡¯t even let him do that. His luck hadn¡¯t turned for the better. He was still stuck with the villain. And the villain was, in fact, a villain. Akakios Laboratory (Torture Chamber but with Notes!) Server error. Please try again later. Server error. Please try again later. Unfortunately for Mars, she apparently got to do just that. Which meant he could only find answers in this absolute horror show. As the villain made rounds of his lab, Mars could only gawk at the scene. The laboratory was bigger than some convention centers, with different experiments sectioned off. The resources devoted to Akakios¡¯ work was truly a marvel. On Earth, scientists were seldom given access to so many tools, lab assistants, and test subjects. A grant that could cover this would have made his old ¡°Intro to Biology for Non-Majors¡± professor a joyous heart attack. She could join Mars in the grave at the peak of her life. But this great feat of science was at the cost of any semblance of morals and ethics. All of this was funded by the villain with his fast fortune of blood money. Which, to be fair to Lyharke, was not unique to this country or world. Take Elon Musk and his father¡¯s South African emerald mines for example. Earthen tech billionaires weren¡¯t exactly virtuous. And while the tests in this lair were more akin to torture than board-approved experiments, it would not surprise Mars if that rotten-peach faced nepo-baby would match Akakios in cruelty given a smidge less oversight. Actually, Musk might be worse. At least Lyharke¡¯s notorious villain seemed to grasp basic scientific concepts, like the scientific method and how to read data. Akakios even listened carefully to his underlings and their lab assistants, which Musk was too busy succumbing to his own ego to try. The demon discussed their current experiments, and made suggestions for the next stages rather than demands. It was only in the contents of those discussions that his villainy showed. He had apparently been studying soul transference for a while, but unwilling souls made wreckage of their new bodies. Mars was privileged to bear witness to that fact. One experiment left the test subjects seizing in their straps, foaming at the mouth, until their bodies succumbed to whatever the test had inflicted. ¡°What was that?¡± Akakios didn¡¯t have to answer him, as the researcher in that section, who hadn¡¯t even introduced himself, already started to explain, ¡°Rejection was faster this time. This is only the sixth trial, but I¡¯m noticing that bodies with similar features and/or dispositions are slower to reject. Which, of course, runs contrary to the animal transference trial¡¯s success in section B6.¡± Mars was not a scientist, but they were talking bullshit magic science. Comprehending dense fantasy worldbuilding at even his lowest, when dopamine and serotonin refused to even allow him the strength to leave his bed, was one of his specialties. So it didn¡¯t take him long to start piecing together what these experiments were about. ¡°I¡¯ve studied B6¡¯s trial closely. They¡¯re currently writing up their report, but there is a clear trend in the data. In conjunction with B7, who has been measuring the soul power of different creatures and test subjects, we have noticed that weaker souls are easier to displace but harder to maintain in an alternate form, and the reverse is true when you adjust the data for ¡®willingness.¡¯ That might apply here as well. Humans and demons have the largest range of spiritual power out of all the creatures we have tested. I suspect that a willing human with more power is more likely to survive transference than a willing human with less, so we might want to adjust this experiment and start testing that.¡± That was one thing Mars couldn¡¯t wrap his head around. They couldn¡¯t find a single soul willing to switch bodies? Even back on Earth, it would have been his dream. ¡°If only the prisoners were willing.¡± The scientist nudged one of the bodies, forever limp in those bindings. His name was Dr. Hasting Graves, which Mars was never to learn but would have found a little on-the-nose. ¡°Hmm, yes that has always been the issue.¡± The scientist started fumbling through his data tables. He scanned the initial questionnaire they used to track that variable. None of the subjects wanted to go through the procedure, but the two who reported an extreme disdain for the concept were currently strapped to the test tables, still as the grave. They were two priests, zealots the villain had captured in their attempt to raid his lair. They were all too willing to die during a poorly thought out and terribly executed mission. And once they were prisoners, they were begging for their deathbed. That was the quickest trial failure out of the previous six. He flipped to the questionnaire of their only test subject still breathing. She had written in the ¡°Other questions and comments¡± section, ¡°After the experiment, will I be released? I just want to see my family.¡± There was a pattern. I will take a moment to tell you a tale of one Dr. Hasting Graves, just three weeks prior. While the lesser demon was an underling to a cruel demon lord, he was not heartless. And the subject who later made a full recovery was a product of unluck. She made a minor transgression against his master, stumbling into the small section of his territory that leaked into the mortal world. A few months ago, mortals like her wouldn¡¯t be worth the demonic patrol¡¯s time. They would have let her go. Now, with such a high demand for test subjects, even the smallest sleight would lead to one¡¯s capture. But what if she survived the test? So he had taken this young maiden to the side, where the other prisoners couldn¡¯t hear, and held up her questionnaire. He was going to play the valiant hero. Well, he was going to play ¡°good demonic scientist,¡± which was his best approximation. Despite his efforts, and his very clear attempt at conveying the message, the girl didn¡¯t understand. She had been taken to a side room in the dungeons by a pale man with too-sharp teeth and too-black eyes. Naturally, she was too scared to speak. He spoke first instead, ¡°I will help you get home.¡± That jolted away her thickest layers of dread, and her eyes widened. ¡°You will?¡± ¡°Not before our tests. We are experimenting with soul transference. Do you know what that means?¡± She pointed to the questionnaire. ¡°Is that what that sheet was asking about?¡± He shook his head ¡°yes,¡± and explained, ¡°We are going to transfer your soul to another body.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t do that.¡± ¡°We will do that. I¡¯m just uncertain if you will survive. There¡¯s a low success rate.¡± She was horrified again. Which was not how she should have responded to her valiant hero. Then again, he was never made for such a part. He continued, ¡°I don¡¯t want you to die. I¡¯m just stating facts. Most of our test subjects die. But our experiments are our attempt to eliminate that nasty side effect.¡± ¡°Has anyone survived?¡± ¡°Yes, actually. There was just one thing they had in common.¡± Her emotions were playing a bouncing ball in her flesh, but she maintained herself through sheer effort. ¡°What is it? Do I have it? I want to live. I need to see my family again. My brother¡¯s birthday¨C¡± she momentarily choked as she fought tears back ¡°¨CI have to go home.¡± ¡°You might be in luck then. What you need is will.¡± She scrunched the delicate eyebrows she was bound to lose in a few short days. If she could only hold on, she would look completely different. But she would be alive, and that was the important thing. ¡°Just¡­ will?¡± ¡°You need to be willing to transfer bodies. In lieu of desire, just fighting to stay alive might be enough. I want to see if¡­¡± ¡°...if?¡± Dr. Graves chuckled to himself. ¡°I¡¯m a nasty scientist, fucking with my own variables like this. But I think keeping as many subjects alive is more important than eliminating all the other discrepancies this time around. Don¡¯t you agree?¡± She didn¡¯t fully understand, but she agreed anyway. She valued her life after all. She would fight for it, to the end. And that, dear reader, is what she did. But the minion would never admit to fucking with his experiment, directly coaxing that will into his text subject. Not to Akakios, of all people. The demon liked hearing new suggestions, but hated going behind his back. If the scientist had only changed his experiment explicitly, his hands wouldn¡¯t be so clammy now. But inspiration had struck, or maybe a sick bout of empathy. Either way, he hadn¡¯t the forethought to write his alterations down, and bringing that up would not serve him well now. So he didn¡¯t explain. He just got straight to the point. ¡°I can write up a report based on these past six tests and then put my efforts into coaxing the prisoners. I genuinely think I could increase that ¡®willingness,¡¯ variable. I have a few ideas that might work.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hear it.¡± Akakios raised an eyebrow. ¡°They¡¯re scared, in pain, and don¡¯t want a new body, right? A2 and A3 have already tested pain and fear reduction. Their medicines, sedatives, and pain inhibitors have greatly improved the success of a large portion of our tests. But we need people to want to leave their body. That¡¯s not common.¡± Mars would have snorted. ¡°I¡¯m right here!¡± ¡°I know you are, hush.¡± Mars realized his headmate had been choosing to answer all of his questions out loud. The human was sharing a brain with the man, and still couldn¡¯t parse even the surface of his mind. What the fuck was wrong with Akakios? The answer was, of course, ¡°a lot.¡± A lot was wrong with Akakios. Had I been there, I would have said as much. It was a ridiculous question, at this stage. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Outside of their skull, the scientist continued his pitch. ¡°If we can¡¯t get them to want a different body, the next best thing is to remind them to live.¡± ¡°But everyone wants to live!?¡± Mars would have snorted, again. The scientist explained further, ¡°That¡¯s too simplistic. It¡¯s not that they don¡¯t want to live, but when your soul is thrust into a body you don¡¯t want without care or much warning, it''s going to forget that fact in its confusion. It will be too focused on rejecting its vessel than on the consequences of that rejection. Remember, it is not an active mind. The mind doesn¡¯t start functioning until it has embraced its vessel. And even a conscious subject would be too disoriented to fully understand what¡¯s happening. But I think the soul is able to remember, even if it is unable to think. I believe making a mind more willing will help the soul do the same.¡± Mars was too stunned in trans to snort. ¡°Fascinating hypothesis. You still haven¡¯t explained the process.¡± ¡°We give them a body they want, for one. Like I¡¯ve said, I noticed people with similar features are slower to reject.¡± ¡°But they still reject?¡± ¡°Most of them. But then, I think we might be able to reason with our prisoners. Explain what we are doing and how they might be able to make the best of it.¡± ¡°The best of what? Their bodies they actually want taken from them? Years in your torture chamber to greet them if they live, I can only assume.¡± ¡°What if we promised their release, if we worked with them,¡± Akakios said, in clear response to Mars. The human was kind of proud. Dr. Graves, on the other hand, was surprised the demon lord had suggested it. He was going to wait for the results of his next few trials to mention it, himself. ¡°I definitely think that might work. And what if we promised to transfer them back when the experiment concludes. Again, I¡¯m uncertain how much the soul retains. But I do believe they carry some degree of mindless reason.¡± ¡°That¡¯s an oxymoron,¡± Mars was good with fantasy bullshit logic, but this soul stuff was testing his nerves a bit. Just because he could follow the bullshit didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t the shit from a bull. But, without hesitation, the demon lord agreed with his underling¡¯s proposal. ¡°Just make sure to do multiple trials to test individual variables this time. You need a solid control. I don¡¯t care how many subjects have to die to get one. Oh, and wipe that girl¡¯s memory before you send her out.¡± Dr. Hasting Graves froze. ¡°What girl?¡± The demon lord just winked, and left the underling with the sinking realization that his master knew exactly what he had done. Mars, however, was in the dark. ¡°What was that wink about?¡± ¡°He thought he got away with something.¡± ¡°...did he?¡± ¡°He¡¯s still alive, isn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°Okay, sure. But what did he do?¡± ¡°Saved a prisoner. It happens to the worst of us.¡± ¡°Would you like to be less vague?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°It¡¯s his affair. I¡¯m not going to spill the messy details just because you asked.¡± Which was unreasonably reasonable and unfairly extremely fair, because Mars really wanted to know those messy details. But he also wasn¡¯t getting anywhere with the questions. So he went back to poking The System. Server error. Please try again later. Server error. Please try again later. The demon lord spoke to various underlings to the point they all blurred together, like reading the same trope in the same genre over and over until all ten series you inhaled in the past two weeks became one giant story with no start and no end. With the blessing of hindsight, I know how to skip to the end. It may have been the most important experiment debriefing in the entire cavern of a laboratory. But how was Mars to know that? As the duo approached a seemingly random section of the lab, Akakios called to a seemingly random scientist. Despite her seeming randomness, Mars perked up a bit anyway. This character would have driven the furries in the Font of Demons fandom wild. She was an anthropomorphic cockatoo. In furry terms, an ¡°avian.¡± In Mars¡¯ terms, a ¡°feathery.¡± To the human¡¯s relief, she wasn¡¯t cartoonish or mascoty. He couldn¡¯t imagine the horror of a photorealistic furry-style creature, with sparkling eyes bigger than an orange and those mammalian-specific features implying this! Bird! Is! A! Woman! The reason Mars guessed she was a ¡°she¡± was simply that her clothes matched the style of female characters in this world.
Narrator¡¯s Note: Of course, it was only a guess, as Mars in particular was very much aware. As I am able to reach into the mind of more than just the human, I can confirm she was, indeed, a woman and extremely proud of it. Moreover, she was confused why anyone would desire to be anything else. While she was receptive to Akakios¡¯ torturous experiments, his appreciation of the male form eluded her.
Mars couldn¡¯t remember many character names or plot details from the original novel, but the fanworks were burned into his memory. M.X. Brady detailed the cultural intricacies of different regions of the world with a feverish incessence. The author also spent more time describing the biology and anatomy of various kinds of demons than exploring the personality of any individual creature. His work sometimes read more like a fantasy encyclopedia with a weak power-leveling and harem-acquiring plot as a boring throughline. Gavin-what¡¯s-his-last-name (the hero) was the least interesting part of this story that was barely a story. It was why most of the fandom studied his text religiously despite very loudly hating it. The point is, while the fanfic shamelessly strayed from established canon, the fan art was surprisingly pretty faithful. And Mars was particularly fascinated by the SouthAsian-inspired culture of Southeast Lyharke, which is why he was able to recognize the style of her dress immediately. The feathery wore a blue Nauvari1 sari which hit her ankle, her talons on full display beneath it. The drape was masterfully executed, allowing her full range of movement to perform her duties as a scientist and underling. As Mars was distracted by the beautiful clothes, she and Akakios started planning the next stage of torture the experiment. ¡°The last test subjects were unable to fully integrate. Half of their soul remained in each body, which after two hours of screaming proved fatal,¡± the cockatoo told him. The corners of Akakios¡¯ lips drooped in thought. ¡°I want to explore that issue a bit more before we return to the initial purpose of the experiment. Can you think of a way to test if the subject died because of their dual-spirit or because their souls were split?¡± Mars¡¯ attention withdrew from the lovely feathery. He was very aware of why his headmate would want to veer off in that direction. It was his fault, afterall. ¡°Do you think we will die if we stay like this for too long?¡± Before the feathery could answer her boss¡¯ question, the villain answered Mars, ¡°I have not found any indications of stress to either of our souls, but I am not one to shirk precautions.¡± His underling tilted her head in confusion, angling one of her eyes directly at him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir¡­ what!?¡± ¡°Oh, I have another soul inside my head right now. He asked a question.¡± She stared at him speechless. ¡°We do not seem to be experiencing any current issues, but I will start a journal to track any new developments,¡± he continued. ¡°...¡± ¡°Is there a problem, Dr. Vaidya?¡± ¡°When did this start?¡± ¡°This morning.¡± ¡°Sir, this is bad.¡± ¡°That is why we are going to put our efforts into studying dual-soul manipulation. Having another person in my head is less than convenient.¡± Akakios was a big fan of understatements. ¡°Do you think this was a planned attack against you?¡± ¡°Who could possibly have more expertise in soul transference than the people in this lair?¡± he asked, rather than answering her question. ¡°You mean it was an inside job?¡± ¡°We have not gotten to a stage where we can transfer souls of humanoids to other humanoids, clearly,¡± he said, nodding to Dr. Vaidya¡¯s last test subjects who were laying on the cold, stone floor at an impossible angle. ¡°I doubt anyone on this floor was able to execute even this flawed transference. At least, not without any outside help. No, I think someone is able to perform this task beyond our current capabilities. This is the perfect opportunity for study that they kindly laid in our lap.¡± ¡°But what are that someone¡¯s plans? We don¡¯t know what game they¡¯re playing. Again, this could be an attack.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s an attack, it was poorly thought out. I¡¯m still in complete control of my body. And the other soul, Mars, is harmless. He can barely hold it together just standing in this room, with all the death and gore. If he is some sort of master operative, I will be shocked.¡± ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± ¡°Look, we don¡¯t know the mission of that other entity. But we do have clues. You¡¯re a scientist. Tell me what you think our next steps should be.¡± ¡°We need to observe, study, hypothesize, experiment¡­¡± ¡°And that¡¯s exactly my plan. So no need to worry.¡± She didn''t seem convinced. This is because she was not convinced. When your demon boss¡¯ mind was invaded by a random soul with no warning, it was hard not to worry. But Akakios was rarely phased by such things, and recently, despite his disaffected act, he''s been downright reckless. It was a subtle change. It wouldn¡¯t surprise Dr. Veidya if she was the only one to notice. But it was significant enough to be worrying. It was on full display now, with that feigned indifference that could quickly fester into a rabid mania if given the chance. ¡°Master Akakios, it may not be my place to mention such things, but I know you haven''t been yourself since that apprentice¨C¡± His glare cut her off before his words. ¡°You''re right. It isn''t your place.¡± She just had to give it the chance¡­ fuck. She said the exact wrong thing. That stare might kill her before his hands got the chance. She backed off immediately, and also literally with two uncertain steps away from him. ¡°Apologies. I was out of line. Please forgive this underling.¡± Mars felt the anger simmering in his shared chest. Though he couldn''t parse the demon¡¯s thoughts, he knew for certain the demon was going to hurt her. As Akakios¡¯ hands started to morph into those large, sword-sharp talons, the human screamed in their head ¡°WAIT!¡± Surprise gave Mars a few extra seconds. He was able to fight his case before the demon could shut him up. ¡°You need her to get me out!¡± The demon and his headmate had observed many experiments already, and had spoken with many of the scientists about their work and their next steps. Everyone seemed extremely competent. Many were already working on dual-soul manipulation. There were certainly others who could shift to this new experiment. But he entrusted Dr. Vaidya with this new task. He had divulged his dual-soul issue the moment she asked. This feathery wasn¡¯t just any random researcher. (As I had said with my privilege of hindsight.) He clearly placed a lot of faith in her. Mars was only guessing, but it was a good guess. I can confirm he was correct. There was no researcher in that laboratory that could match that bird in aptitude and ability, and she was the only one he afforded enough context. In a few days, when he cooled down, he would have her directly observe him. He would let her poke and prod at his dual-soul. He would hand her his detailed notes on his condition and sift through the written contemplation of those private recesses of his mind. So, despite the anger flaring in the demon¡¯s shared body, he paused. His talons went back to hands. While his fists were clenched, his teeth were still grit, and his eyes were still dark, he didn¡¯t attack. Mars could have sighed in relief. Actually, that time he did. It was just a little slip as Mars forced the body to relax.Then, when all the tension left his body, Akakios snatched control back, blocking the human from his own synapses. Sharing a body was frustrating, but at least that body wasn¡¯t beating his best bet out half to fucking death. ¡°You¡¯re smart, Doctor. You know what to do.¡± The villain stormed out of the section, a clear destination in mind, which filled Mars with a reasonable amount of dread. He was pretty sure they weren¡¯t headed to a unicorn petting zoo. The human wanted to ask about his headmate¡¯s old apprentice, to understand what could provoke such ire, but he didn¡¯t dare mention it. So instead, he asked, ¡°Where are we going?¡± Akakios trekked five yards before he put in the effort to answer. ¡°Dungeon.¡± ¡°...¡± Mars said. ¡°...¡± the demon said back. ¡°...this isn¡¯t the dungeon?¡± ¡°This is my lab.¡± ¡°...is the dungeon worse?¡± In spite of himself, the demon almost laughed. ¡°Oh, much worse.¡± When they got to the dungeon, Mars was not the least bit pleased to find out that was true. The dungeon was, in fact, worse. Much worse.