Unlike the other corridors in the house, this one felt hastily built, as though it had been thrown together in secret. The stone walls were framed with raw, unfinished wood, and no effort had been made to match the rest of the mansion's polished aesthetic -- perhaps deliberately. Worn, filthy rags covered the cold, dusty floor, and the only light came from flickering torch sconces mounted unevenly along the walls. Ahead, an eerie, multicolored glow bled from beneath the door at the end of the hall.

  Rel (hushed): "Any plans you wanna *tell* us beforehand this time, Punjo?"

  Still rattled from their last encounter, Rel wasn’t eager to play bait again.

  Punjo (hushed): "None yet... Just keep yer eyes and ears peeled."

  The trio moved cautiously, each footstep muffled against the grimy fabric beneath them. As they neared the door, the strange light intensified, shifting from sickly green to deep crimson in slow, pulsing waves. But it wasn’t just the light betraying what lay ahead. Fumes seeped through the ill-fitted door, curling into the corridor, thick and cloying.

  Tyssa (hushed): "It smells awful..."

  The stench hit them hard -- an unbearable mix of boiling viscera, bile, and something far fouler. Tyssa clamped a hand over her nose, but before anyone could react further, a sound pierced the heavy air.

  A wail -- muffled, guttural, and inhuman -- echoed from within the lab. It wasn’t the cry of any animal they knew, nor was it entirely human. It was something else.

  Then a voice followed, low and oddly tender.

  Voice: "Shhh... not yet, my dear."

  The soft words were punctuated by the wet sound of a blade slicing through flesh. A short, satisfied grunt from the speaker. Then, silence. The wailing ceased as abruptly as it had begun.

  Rel (hushed): "What was that...?"

  Punjo didn’t answer. His wide eyes were fixed on the slits in the door, his body tense. He motioned for Rel and Tyssa to stay back, but curiosity pulled them forward anyway, despite the gnawing fear in their guts.

  Punjo (hushed): "That... that weren’t the sound of man or beast."

  And in truth, no name existed for what awaited them inside -- Dmitri himself hadn’t found words worthy of his creation. How could he? Nothing in nature could describe it.

  Voice (Dmitri): "Sever the ligaments with precision... Slice the bone at just the right angle... Yes, yes. *Perfect*."

  The rhythmic squelching of flesh being carved and bone sawed echoed through the door, underscored by the constant drip-drip of blood hitting the floor. Dmitri's voice carried a madman's glee, as though he were describing a delicate art.

  The trio crept closer, each step heavier than the last.

  Punjo (hushed): "Alright... here’s yer plan."

  Punjo stopped, turning to face Rel and Tyssa, his expression more serious than they’d ever seen.

  Punjo (hushed): "You two will stay back, nice and quiet, and I'll handle it. I’ve got a bad feelin’ ‘bout this."

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  Rel’s face hardened.

  Rel (hushed): "No way, Punjo! We’re in this together... We all go."

  Punjo shook his head.

  Punjo (hushed): "Not this time, lad."

  Before they could argue further, another sound tore through the corridor. A wet, animalistic feeding noise, followed by the gurgling rumble of something -- somebody -- being devoured. The gnashing of teeth on bone, the squish of viscera being ripped apart.

  Voice (Dmitri): "Yes... Accept it. Beautiful amalgam. My finest work. Stronger. Faster. Beyond human. Nature could never..."

  Drawn by morbid curiosity, they moved closer, pressing their faces to the rusted iron slits in the door. What they saw froze them in place.

  Beneath a blood-soaked tarp, something massive writhed. Black, slimy tentacles slithered from beneath the cloth, grasping at severed limbs Dmitri offered with a twisted reverence. The appendages hungrily pulled the pieces toward the hidden body, assimilating them with frantic desperation.

  Tyssa (horrified): "Oh my god..."

  Before they could tear themselves away from the sight, Dmitri paused, his head tilting slightly.

  Dmitri (calm, distant): "Who's there...?"

  But the tentacles weren’t finished. They flailed and writhed, the wailing resuming with renewed vigor. Dmitri barely seemed to notice the intruders anymore, too enraptured by his creation's suffering. He reached for a large, blood-smeared syringe from a nearby table.

  Dmitri (soothing): "Hush now... You’re restless. But not much longer, my dear."

  He drove the needle deep into the thing under the tarp. The creature spasmed violently, its tentacles recoiling as a muffled screech filled the lab. Then, silence. The monstrosity stilled, sinking into an unnatural slumber.

  Dmitri (murmuring): "Not yet ready... Neither is the world. But soon. Just one more. One more..."

  Dmitri’s voice drifted through the lab, half-crazed, as his focus shifted back to the bubbling vials and steaming beakers cluttering his alchemy station. Acrid fumes curled from the boiling concoctions, thickening the air and stinging the eyes of the trio peering through the door. The chemical stench mixed with the metallic tang of blood, a nauseating perfume that clung to the back of their throats.

  Dmitri: "Is that you?! Stop dragging your feet and get it in here already, time is of the essence!"

  His tone was impatient, dismissive. He didn’t even bother to glance toward the door, too enraptured by his grotesque work.

  Punjo’s hand tightened around the blood-slick handle. He shot a quick glance at Rel and Tyssa, his expression unreadable.

  Punjo (hushed): "‘Ight... that’s my cue."

  He started to push the door open, but Tyssa grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with alarm.

  Tyssa (hushed): "Punjo, no --"

  But Punjo’s voice, low and firm, cut her off.

  Punjo (hushed): "STAY. BOTH OF YOU."

  There was no room for argument... His tone brooked no defiance. Frozen by the gravity in his voice, Rel and Tyssa stayed rooted in place as Punjo slipped through the doorway, closing it softly behind him.

  Inside, the lab was a nightmare. Tables were splattered with blood, limbs -- human or otherwise -- lay discarded like butcher’s scraps. The faint, rhythmic drip of some viscous liquid echoed through the space. And in the center of it all, under that blood-soaked tarp, the monstrous creation writhed and pulsed with unnatural life.

  Dmitri didn’t look up, still hunched over his boiling flasks.

  Dmitri: "... Put it on the table."

  He gestured vaguely to an empty slab, his attention locked on the chemicals in front of him. His muttering grew more frantic, each word laced with obsession.

  Dmitri: "Won’t last much longer without more sedatives... Should’ve started intravenous from the beginning. If only I knew... if only..."

  Punjo moved with slow, deliberate steps -- not toward the table, but toward him. The heavy thud of boots on blood-slick stone finally stirred Dmitri from his manic focus. His brow furrowed in confusion.

  Dmitri: "I said the table -- there! How daft are --"

  He turned, mid-sentence, and froze. The words died in his throat as he stared up at the broad, unfamiliar figure looming over him. His face, pale from hours spent in the dim lab light, drained of what little color it had left.

  Dmitri: "Wh-who -- stop right there! Who are you?!"

  Punjo said nothing at first. He merely cracked his neck to one side, then the other, the sound echoing in the tense silence. His knuckles followed, each pop like the ticking of a clock winding down.

  Then he smiled, a grim, humorless curl of his lips.

  Punjo: "Don’t worry ‘bout my name. Ain’t here to make friends, mister Dmitri... I’m here ‘cos you got somethin’ I need."