The Ruin units released Derpy at the same time.

  Mk.1 and Mk.2 stepped back in perfect sync.

  Then they turned away with Lieam without a word, leaving him standing alone on the testing floor.

  The chamber was too bright.

  Too clean.

  Living wood dressed up to look like stone and steel.

  Derpy rolled his shoulders once, testing how much of him still belonged to him.

  Footsteps approached.

  A female elf in a white lab coat moved into his space like she’d been assigned to it.

  She didn’t introduce herself.

  She circled him slowly, eyes sharp and clinical.

  In her hand was a scanning instrument—old, rune-lined, humming softly.

  She pressed it against his back and drew it upward, pausing at the base of his skull.

  The device beeped.

  Then stuttered.

  Then spoke in a warped, broken voice:

  “Dragon. Wolf. Rabbit. Mouse. Demon—”

  The tool sparked.

  Smoke curled from its seams.

  Then it shattered completely.

  The elf clicked her tongue in annoyance and calmly wrote dragon on her clipboard.

  “Excuse me,” Derpy said.

  Pain exploded across his side.

  He hit the floor hard.

  The sting was sharp, but not crippling.

  “Speak when spoken to, dragon,” the elf snapped, her voice carrying authority like she owned the room.

  Derpy lay still for a breath.

  Then he pushed himself up, brushed dust from his clothes, and took a slow, steady inhale.

  He extended his hand.

  “Hi,” he said. “My name is Derpy.”

  His tail flicked behind him.

  The elf froze.

  She tilted her head, bewildered.

  Around them, other researchers looked up from their stations.

  The room tightened, sensing a confrontation.

  Derpy took a step toward her.

  She struck him again.

  The temperature dropped.

  Shadows bled outward from Derpy’s feet, crawling across the floor.

  Frost crept along the stone.

  Ice formed in the air—sharp crystalline shards hovering around him like waiting teeth.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Derpy smiled.

  “Hi,” he repeated, walking forward. Each step left frozen patches behind him. “My name is Derpy.”

  He stopped inches from her.

  The elf swallowed.

  Then she shakily took his hand.

  “R-Rose,” she said. “My name is Rose. I… I research here. I can’t tell you what.”

  The ice shattered into mist.

  The shadows retreated.

  The room returned to normal.

  Derpy let go of her hand.

  “I don’t mind helping with your tests,” he said calmly, “but I expect to be treated like an equal—not a lab rat.”

  He held her eyes.

  “If that can’t happen, I won’t cooperate. And if you treat me like a lab rat…”

  His voice stayed even.

  “I’ll be destructive.”

  Rose stared at her clipboard for a long moment.

  Then she wrote:

  Treat subject with respect.

  She cleared her throat. “Step into the chamber. We need to measure your magical output.”

  “That’s fine,” Derpy said. “One question first. Do you have books on magic?”

  Rose blinked. “What kind?”

  “Everything.”

  Wind. Water. Earth. Lightning. Circles. Attributes.

  “All of it.”

  He shrugged. “I feel like I’m going to be here a while. Might as well get comfortable.”

  Rose hesitated.

  Then nodded.

  Derpy stepped into the chamber.

  The door sealed shut.

  A field activated.

  An electric jolt tore through him as the lattice latched onto his core and began siphoning.

  He cried out once.

  His wings sagged as pressure drained him.

  Minutes passed.

  The chamber finally released him.

  Derpy stumbled out, wings drooping, tail limp.

  Mk.1 rushed forward and caught him before he fell.

  Rose didn’t flinch.

  “Take him back to his chambers,” she said. “That’s all for now. We’ll request him again in seven days.”

  Mk.1 lifted him carefully and carried him away.

  Books arrived twenty minutes later.

  Neatly stacked.

  Wind to fire.

  Lightning to water.

  Every discipline.

  At the bottom of the pile sat a tiny book, its title written in symbols Derpy couldn’t read.

  Mk.1 sat nearby, watching him with open curiosity.

  Derpy picked up the strange book.

  Then glanced at her.

  “You want to sit?”

  Mk.1 hesitated, like a child unsure if she was allowed.

  Then she sat beside him.

  Close, but not touching.

  “Defect,” Mk.1 murmured.

  Derpy frowned. “You’re a defect… but Lieam keeps you. They didn’t keep Riven.”

  Mk.1’s eyes flickered.

  Derpy looked down again.

  The unreadable book dissolved into light and vanished into his rings.

  Inside his mind, the merged book shifted—one presence, two voices.

  Celica’s tone moved first, careful and precise.

  Blight’s followed, sharper, faster—finishing thoughts Celica started.

  They broke the symbols down together until meaning formed.

  Hey, Derpy thought, can you turn that into audio? Like headphones?

  Blight’s voice answered first. Sure. But won’t that draw attention?

  Celica’s voice followed, calm and practical. If it manifests cleanly, it can pass as a minor construct. Keep it subtle.

  I want to block the noise when they’re watching, Derpy replied. If I’m going to be here, I need something that keeps me steady.

  Derpy opened his eyes.

  Mk.1 was staring at him, waiting.

  “Sorry,” he said. “What were you saying?”

  Mk.1 repeated herself, quieter.

  She told him about Riven.

  About being called a defect.

  About being kept while Riven was discarded.

  Derpy listened.

  Then he told her how he’d met Riven.

  How he fed her magic so she wouldn’t hurt people.

  How strong she was.

  How she had friends—even when others refused to see her as anything but broken.

  “Am I… friend?” Mk.1 asked.

  Derpy smiled and gently patted her head.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You’re my friend.”

  Hours passed in pages and silence.

  Then Derpy looked up.

  “What can you do?” he asked. “What’s your specialty?”

  Mk.1 hesitated.

  Then she opened her mouth wide—like Riven used to.

  Inside was a void.

  Glowing orbs spun where a throat should be.

  She closed it again.

  “Ruin series Mk.1,” she said. “Magic series.”

  The door opened.

  Mk.1 was instantly on her feet.

  Two elves entered.

  Royalty.

  Princesses.

  Behind them walked two more Ruin units.

  One in red.

  One in black—taller.

  “There he is,” the first princess cooed. “And the defect is watching him. How sweet.”

  “They look married,” the other laughed. “So close.”

  Derpy exhaled through his nose and stood.

  The red-dressed one spoke first.

  “Ruin Mk.3.”

  The black-dressed one stepped forward, cutting her off.

  “And Mk.4.”

  “We said you could observe,” Mk.4 said coldly, “not mock him. Or our sister.”

  Mk.1 rushed to Mk.4’s side, hiding in her dress.

  Mk.4 noticed immediately.

  “Mk.1,” she said quietly. “Your seams…”

  Repaired.

  Perfect.

  “How?” Mk.4 asked.

  Mk.1 pointed at Derpy.

  Silence filled the room.

  Mk.3 tilted her head. “What’s your name, dragon boy?”

  Green headphones formed over Derpy’s ears as Blight manifested—clean, simple, like a spell someone might mistake for comfort magic.

  Derpy stepped forward and extended his hand.

  “Hi. I’m Derpy. Nice to meet you, Mk.3. Mk.4.”

  The princesses giggled again.

  “Ooo, he likes dolls.”

  “So rude,” the second said, before dragging Mk.4 away. “We’re leaving.”

  Mk.3 lingered.

  Mk.1 gently pushed her toward the door.

  “You should rest,” Mk.1 said. “I’ll watch Derpy.”

  At the door, Mk.1 looked back once.

  “Goodbye, friend.”

  She left.

  Far away, at Vemi’s and Vambasta’s inn—

  things were about to get very messy.