Weavers

"That child… What is he?" muttered Norvilla, stepping closer to the reinforced glass that separated the control room from the containment chamber.

"…One of the specimens," Maxwell replied, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. "What's wrong?"

Norvilla squinted, his hands clenching tightly as a deep, ominous blue glow flickered within his eyes. "He seems… familiar."

Maxwell exhaled, standing beside him and gazing at the boy in the cylindrical tube. His amethyst-colored hair drifted weightlessly in the luminescent liquid. "It must be his hair… But you have no reason to worry. His awakening failed."

"Kill him."

Maxwell glanced at him, unfazed. "I see no need for that. He'll die eventually. As you can see, he's already suffering from mana core combustion—killing him now would be no different from letting nature take its course."

"I don't care. I won't take any chances," Norvilla snapped, thrusting his hand forward. A surge of overwhelming lightning erupted from his palm, piercing straight through reinforced glassed, down through the tube and right through the child's abdomen.

"Tsk. You just had to spill blood all over my lab, didn't you?" Maxwell sighed, signaling to the guards. "Take him out."

"Where to, sir?" one of the guards asked as they hoisted the lifeless boy.

"Dump him in Zone 1 with the others," Maxwell said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"The ones in Zone 1… How good are their aptitude?" Norvilla asked, the glow fading from his eyes.

"Decent. They were slated for transfer to Sector 32—well, that was until you showed up," Maxwell muttered, exasperated.

BAM!

A deafening blast echoed through the chamber. One of the guards had stumbled, his shoulder-mounted weapon discharging a stray mana shot straight into the boy's chest.

"YOU IDIOTS! YOU'RE SPILLING BLOOD ALL OVER MY LAB!" Maxwell roared, his patience snapping.

"A-Apologies, sir," stammered the guard, scrambling to his feet as he and his partner hurriedly dragged the boy's corpse out of the room.

"Tsk. Morons," Maxwell muttered in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why wasn't I just assigned to oversee the weaponization project instead?" He clicked his tongue in frustration.

"…So you don't know?"

Maxwell's frown deepened. "Know what?"

"The project has been put on hold. The test subjects meant for it were supposed to come from here," Norvilla stated flatly.

"What?" Maxwell's voice spiked with disbelief. "Then what about the extraction on that other planet?"

Norvilla's jaw tightened. "…Those pests got there first. In fact, they completely vaporized the planet after extracting its core. We weren't even able to locate it until we reanalyzed the cosmic layout and noticed an entire planet was missing," he said through gritted teeth. 

"…You know what this means, don't you, Commander?" Maxwell asked, his tone chilling, his gaze sharp and calculating.

Norvilla regarded him for a moment before turning his attention back to the doorway where the boy had been taken. 

"All sectors are being probed. The insider must be found."

"… I doubt that," Maxwell said.

"… I know what you're thinking… But don't even say it. The Council doesn't take kindly to those who question their loyalty," he said.

"… We will see," Maxwell finally replied.

"… That boy…"

"… What about him?"

"What affinity did he awaken?" Norvilla asked, his gaze drilling into Maxwell's eyes.

"None. I don't know why you're so paranoid—you killed him with your own hands," Maxwell said, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose with practiced precision.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Norvilla snarled. He grabbed Maxwell by the collar and slammed him against the glass.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT A SINGLE WEAVER CAN CAUSE?!" His voice thundered through the room.

"… Settle down, Commander. I am well aware of the dangers of a Weaver. But trust me when I say this—if he had shown even the slightest trace of that affinity, I would have deleted him on the spot," Maxwell said, his tone laced with an unsettling calm. The grip on his collar loosened. "And in the most painful way imaginable," he added coldly.

"Good." Norvilla released him and took a step back, his expression dark. "No matter how obsessed you are with your experiments, remember this—Weavers are a national threat. A threat to the government, to the Council. If you are ever caught harboring one of those… things, you will be declared a traitor." 

"… Weavers are extinct, Commander. Calm down," Maxwell replied, dusting off his coat. Then, turning away, he called out, "BRING IN THE NEXT SPECIMEN!"

The heavy door groaned open, and a young girl was dragged in. Unlike the others, who had arrived unconscious, this one was very much awake. She thrashed against her restraints, her eyes wide with fear. 

"…. Your negligence will be the death of you, Maxwell," Norvilla murmured, his eyes locked on the struggling girl.

"Children who show even a trace of awakening are executed at that stage. Even infants," Maxwell said, watching as the girl writhed against her restraints. "I see no reason to fear."

"… ENOUGH!" Norvilla bellowed, his fury barely contained. "If it weren't for that traitor, those pests wouldn't have become such a threat to us." His teeth clenched as he spoke.

"… So the Council still refuses to disclose the truth?" Maxwell mused.

"It appears so."

"… Clean this place up. Change those tubes. And bring in new manacores," he ordered, his voice emotionless as the guards moved to obey.