The Acceleration released hoarded, secret knowledge, helping, forcing, and complicating all the natural fronts in rather inhumane processes. Muscles. Bones. It was a growth and an evolution. Many trials and experiments were aimed at perfection, yet perfection shouldn't ever be forced. It didn't exist according to science.

  Tom Hough knew it; this was the compromise Walkers wanted, and he delivered it to them on a golden plate, so they shouldn't ever complain. Idiots. He would gladly work with any mixture of natural and unnatural Awakenings, or any methods!

  One could imagine what a genuine failure meant. Were those deaths or a simple wrong growth, both lesser, or just weak? It was rare, but all of that was a path of Walkers anyway, so why bother running away from it? Stories buried in history said enough, and history was one of the reasons Hough even worked here, as any unexpected incident was a wild door to the unknown!

  In William's case, he was cautious. Crimson Arcana discovered something else besides his liquid and process, while the body as a whole defied it, yet lived in it. For months... for years. Hough could no longer prone it, change it, or activate anything. He had done his duty. Now, it was fine, even if nothing was actually fine.

  William's right arm was no longer visible, or perhaps it no longer existed. Little by little, small moving lines and needle-like energy strands cut into William's bloodstream, changing it, going around him in circles, moving like blood, but not dribbling like blood. It was a storm of fixation and remedy, trying to find the source or proper flow.

  “Established Cycle?!” Hough laughed and slapped his cheeks again. “This quick... Calculate! Calculate!” He grabbed the watches from his pocket and stormed the monitors.

  A couple of minutes of watching was enough to get him by and notice the truth. Since the cycling process wasn't going through this machine, he relied on his personal experience.

  “There is... way too much flow?” Hough frowned, heart pounding, and ass sweating. This was the main problem. Nourishment and a force helped him crack the code, and it was in pieces in every youth and Emblem, so each had to be separate and cracked.

  Some were easy to see, while others were demanding and hard. This one was neither. The underlying origin of it was unknown even to itself, or perhaps hidden under a new type of knowledge, or something that Walkers understood and never made public. Not even to Hough? That was the nastiest idea that spread in his head.

  The defiant nature was a common trait. Many of the promises and words were meaningless and beyond Hough's expertise.

  His liquids weren't sick, since Arcana moved well in forms and rules, influencing all basic matters of human anatomy and body systems. Shock, pain, and changes in body and blood were typical reactions. Blood vessels, nerves, and muscles ought to adapt and change. Even organs underwent a transformation, but it wasn't always clear to the naked eye. Why? Because this was Rank 1, whilst everybody knew upper Rank Walkers were less of humans than expected, even if their exteriors were usually fine.

  Hough had readings for assurance, and they comprehended the difference between the former and the new. Everything in that chair should pass through these rules, moving throughout the body and his machine, and back. Of course, it should hurt like hell! He was drilling and giving them a thorough torture and devices to kill them, and brought them back!

  The currents of cycling Arcana had long accelerated beyond normal, so the Emblem found its escape path, death went wild, and did something it was meant to do.

  Effectiveness and the process of how it worked were among the many mysteries of the Emblems, as this energy knew what to do on its own. It wasn't alive, per se. It was eclipsing the imagination and was part of everything in this new world.

  It might be nothing that a human feeling, mind, or body could understand. But touching and using it were different things, and something that Hough and Walkers understood.

  Some flow went through the inner body alone, touching organs and delving deeper into the cellular effects, the most essential parts of the human anatomy. Some were better off out, or in a special section devised by the System and chosen by Walkers, based on their talents or constitution.

  Nerves changed, causing screeching pain and pushing the mind, which then pushed other things out. It was a whole cyclical structure, or more like a domino effect. That was nice, yet when multiple accelerations followed, liquids and the aftermath weren't simply black and white.

  Even a few minutes should create wonders, turn the chair bloody, and leave the Walkers' bodies in terrible condition. Emblems would fully awaken in such scenarios, becoming something else. They would fix the ! At least, the first part of its potential should. That was what Rank 1 was.

  Another minute passed, creating a tense atmosphere as the revolving mist began to clear. Soon, screaming William was back on the chair, twisting in his body and looking like a dying soldier. The cuffed neck was a rather nasty idea, but it prevented him from leaving the chair. The rest was getting smaller.

  His left hand was free, slamming at the handle, clutching it, or trying to ease the pain by banging the Emblem behind the disintegrating metallic gadget over it.

  Nothing would stop this energy, or his watchful, bloodshot eyes, which scanned the vivid redness everywhere. There was no escape or dream here, but still a change occurred. It was... danger. It was coming. Right now, and here.

  The demon walked from the mirror, approaching the chair like a giant. William felt he must be delirious, since it really escaped and came at him on its own.

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  His legs were still cuffed, bleeding above a pool of blood on the ground. William couldn't even bang his head against the chair. Perhaps it wouldn't make a difference.

  His mind tried to be dumb and numb, yet his eyes and everything turned that to shit. Hough was similar, yet their positions were very different, and he couldn't notice the demon wincing its hideous head down, smirking at his old face in an existence that only William was able to watch. He wasn't able to speak. Breathing was not possible either, but his brain was active. Turning. Not like he cared to give this demon much attention, for they talked far more than enough.

  William realized this process and his past were what his parents probably wanted, feared, or wished to know. It came later, after they left and turned to memorial ghosts, or it showed itself long ago, but they couldn't proceed. His father talked about time limits, his mom did stuff, and Camp Nolan was destroyed and erased.

  “T-this. What is happening? I don't know anymore,” Hough complained after nothing worse changed. The Emblem got free and great, yet... that never happened in this manner.

  William's Emblem was unyielding over the span of ten years. That alone was nice, but was time everything? Hardly. What went on during these years was that, and it should already have calmed down under Hough's calculations. Arcana should already be integrated, branding this sick new Emblem. It was a sturdy single cycle, not a continuous and flowing transformation without an end in sight.

  It was taking way too long!

  The number of transformations conveyed talent and more numbers, which then translated into capacity. What could the body consume, becoming less human and closer to a rough embodiment of Emblem? Was something preventing the last push here? What exactly?

  “That is impossible. Accelerator did its process. Such is the nature of this business and laws, and the human body operates as it does, and even if the syringe is gone, the pond is not. I can see it. It can't change too much, or do something new, no matter what. This should happen. The only answer is the Emblem, and what is going on in that host can be different, like mud and gold. They were part of my calculations, so this should be out of my hands. Really?! What new shall crawl from this event?!” Hough panicked and cried over his monitors.

  Glancing at a graph jumping up and down, it was changing nonstop. All of his wires and needles were unusable. Up and to the bottom of the graph, a line soared out of the summit before dropping to the abyss.

  “Instability. Is he... not ready, or am I? What was his Rank 0 like? If they let him into this room in the first place, everything should be acceptable, yet... Rey said something else. Second did too. No! Seventeen-year-olds like this are extra! When he reached Rank 0, the issue was less pronounced. How it acts afterward is the question of chaos. I wasn't ready for this. I couldn't test every subject, let alone one at a time. This is my... aftermath! My sin. Good. AH! How usual. I knew pushing private and unique cases to private awakening events was the way to go, but no, Hough is too rash, yes? Fucking Rey. It is not my fault. The injection would...” Hough began to mumble, full of uncertainty, and feeling as if he were alone in this room.

  Butlers protected what they should, him and all machines included.

  To his short disappointment, the eighteenth minute was the end. William's Emblem cracked one more time, and a loud explosion echoed across the entire bunker

  A portion of the chair cracked, sending Hough crashing to the ground when a shockwave went ham less than five feet away. When he glanced aside, an incredible, dense cocoon of crimson Arcana spread from William's Emblem, flying out as a wild river without abandon. William was almost lost in it, drowning, and disappearing in it forever.

  It rose dozens of feet into the air, hitting the ceiling, marking it and cracking it, and then it rushed back down, ending up at the cycle's start or end, rattling around William's Emblem and chair as a whole.

  The Emblem's final crackdown. Dark crimson colors, almost blackish red, fled, flowing in thick, veiny substances that were no longer about an Arcana.

  “V-Vectors! Such strong Vectors!” Hough exclaimed as he grabbed the table and got to his feet. He looked at graphs and almost punched them. They were constantly reaching zero, jerking upward, and so on. It wasn't stability that was the issue. The problem was deeper.

  Details were unknown to the Walkers hiding beyond the mirrors, watching this show and knowing that another abnormal individual had come from Outside and dared to interfere with this event.

  No one knew what this Host handled. They just realized how those wild, accumulated chunks of Arcana turned into Vectors, and on their own, acted as his final red button. They noticed the body, too, of course, followed by blood, and not just one Cycle. It lasted way longer than necessary. In standards. Typical, calculated risks, and what they watched for years.

  The difference was peculiar. Hough's behavior was easy to overlook, since Walkers didn't question his methods. They trusted his analyses, so they wondered about the results and made many bets, looking on with interest, some in boredom, while others had various questions that escaped their lips.

  It wasn't as silent as with Celeste, who had shocked everyone present with a remarkably stable, perfect transformation, whereas this was different, even though he was years older than her. How unusual. The crimson covers of those Vectors were powerful, startling impressions. Red colorations were often intense, and most Walkers took deep colors and high intensity as signs of doubtful vanity.

  It wasn't unproductive to compare and put these issues into the same bag. History often proved itself, and this damn cursed era was more than a century old at this point. Of course, those Walkers knew how some stuff mattered, yet at the end of the day, the rider of these storms couldn't handle it forever.

  Standing in one corner, Kaufman looked at the show and felt a mix of emotions. Nothing shocked him as far as he watched. It just changed, validated his mind in this mass of Vectors. When it cracked as a whole, it felt about right. Results were his inner intensity, coming through his clenched hand, the glistering white orb, and his eyes, which were expecting something greater.

  “Interesting, isn't it?” A familiar voice called behind him. He knew this one, but he hadn't expected it to come, considering the time and their links. It was Yondu. Kaufman glanced at him and frowned in undeniable hostility because the show wasn't over.

  “Yondu.” Kaufman hit his chest in a laughable attempt at a military greeting.

  “What are you thinking, exactly? I was curious. Mi-Yung is out there, feeling that flow firsthand as someone who snatched him from that abyss first. So what are you doing here, digging these goods? You think you looked at him first?”

  “I am afraid the first is older and not important. For many, or you, old friend, I won't hide it. Why? Because this is insane,” Kaufman said casually, folding his arms over his chest and turning to face him.

  Yondu was alone, standing beside him without care. Such a forceful guest wasn't in Kaufman's mind. He thought Mi-Yung would have found him before her boss, given the matters at hand and their history.

  “I was generous enough not to bother you with most matters from six weeks ago and up, Kaufman. You mess with the wrong Division, and my Pillar doesn't appreciate it. You think something like California can subdue the Assembly, or do more? Do you seriously think you are like Mi-Yung?”

  “Yes?” Kaufman said, smiling shamelessly at a younger, yet equally Ranked man as himself.

  But he was weaker. It wasn't even funny how much it made sense and changed Yondu's stance and face.