1 Last Wizard

In the somber dimness of the room, a weary figure clad in a threadbare lab coat stood, one hand resting on his hip, betraying the weight of exhaustion that burdened him. His scraggly beard and thinning hair, long in the back but sparse atop his crown, bore witness to the passage of time etched across his weathered face.

Casting a glance towards the surgical desk, he swallowed hard, his fingers hesitantly tapping the button that summoned a holographic display. Yet, with a weary sigh, he quickly shut it off, muttering under his breath, "Null... it's all Null," mindful not to raise his voice and draw the attention of the guards stationed outside.

The screen before him displayed columns meant to hold vital patient information, now all filled with the stark emptiness of "Null" from name to blood type.

His gaze shifted to the young boy lying before him, swathed in a white hospital sheet, his features almost blending into the pale hue of his surroundings. 

Boy was young- too young to be in a place like that infront of man like this.

Grimes, the man, turned away briefly, reaching for a pair of scissors and tongs, only to abandon them in favor of rummaging through his pockets.

"May as well put me out of my misery," he grumbled, producing a small glass bottle containing a century-old brew, a rare luxury from a country long gone – a tale for another time. With a shake of his head, he downed the contents, coughing once or twice before discarding the bottle with disdain.

"Overrated," he muttered.

Returning his attention to the boy, who appeared eerily still, Grimes made a deliberate incision on the boy's left leg, watching in awe as the wound closed before his eyes, nerves reknitting themselves seamlessly.

With a steady hand, he then positioned the knife over the boy's chest, drawing a precise, clean incision from sternum to chest, revealing everything beneath the surface.

Inside, the inner workings were eerily familiar, mirroring those of a human body, akin to the countless cadavers Grimes had dissected in his lifetime.

Yet, despite the familiarity, today held a sense of urgency that Grimes couldn't shake. Retrieving a small metallic chip nestled behind his left ear, its red neon flicker punctuating the tension in the room, he proceeded with practiced precision.

As the tweezers hovered over the still-healing incision, Grimes's brow furrowed in concentration, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. With meticulous care, the chip was delicately released, descending into the rhythmic pulse of the boy's heart.

Then came the scream – a gut-wrenching cry that pierced the air as the boy's eyes snapped open, body convulsing in agony, the incision sealing itself at an unprecedented pace under Grimes's astonished gaze.

"Oh fuck-"

The room was abruptly flooded with blinding brightness as the door swung open with a sickly thud, disrupting the somber atmosphere. Grimes squinted against the sudden glare, grumbling under his breath as the sterile white surroundings were illuminated.

"What's happening!?" Grimes exclaimed, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

"That's the question I should be asking you, Doctor," came the commanding voice of a man clad in a sleek black bodysuit, his features obscured by a mask, save for piercing blue eyes that surveyed the room with calculated intensity.

"I-I... I didn't see you, sir," Grimes stammered, his words faltering in the presence of the imposing figure.

This man was part of the clandestine team dispatched from the Supreme's castle, tasked with overseeing this operation with utmost secrecy.

"Enough," the man dismissed Grimes with a wave of his hand, effortlessly pushing him aside as he approached the convulsing boy on the table.

With eyes rolled back, gasping for air, the boy's sudden agitation belied his earlier stillness, resembling a fish out of water.

Pressing a concealed button on his arm, the man summoned another figure into the room, their presence masked by a feminine voice.

"Is everything under control?" inquired the newcomer, her stature lacking the feminine curves one might expect.

Grimes, bewildered by the unexpected appearance, muttered to himself, "Since when did—"

Before he could finish, the man interrupted, redirecting his focus to Grimes. "Come here and observe, Doctor. And you, fetch the others immediately."

"But sir, you could just—" Grimes began, only to be cut off sharply.

"I said GO! I won't tolerate failure. If this boy is lost, so are you – into the Nexis Mines!" The threat hung heavy in the air, compelling Grimes to stagger out of the room, his mind reeling with the gravity of the situation.

As Grimes stumbled out of the room, the man swiftly removed his mask, revealing a face marked by the passage of time – a countenance that had witnessed the transition from youth to the cusp of adulthood. With unkempt brownish hair and a slight reddish complexion, his piercing blue eyes and prominent nose added character to his visage.

"Tony... Do it," the girl instructed, prompting a nod from Tony.

Turning his attention to the boy, who now lay in a state of unconsciousness, Tony couldn't help but lament, "Oh, holy mother of Merlin... look at how they've treated the poor lad."

"No time for mourning! Hurry, or we'll be joining him," urged the girl, Bell.

"Right, right," Tony muttered, assessing the situation.

Placing his finger on the boy's forehead, Tony was interrupted by Bell's inquiry, "Why didn't you bring your wand?"

Tony sighed, "They're outdated and conspicuous under this bodysuit. It looks odd and—"

"Enough excuses. Just get on with it," Bell interjected impatiently.

As Tony's hand made contact with the boy's forehead, his eyes began to emit a subtle, magical glow – a shimmering green that hinted at unseen forces at work.

Drawing closer, Bell reached out and touched Tony, and in that fleeting moment of contact, they vanished, leaving behind the sterile emptiness of the room, devoid of any signs of life. The trio had vanished into the unknown.

On the other hand, As Grimes sprinted through the deserted corridors of the castle, his footsteps echoing off the walls, he finally reached a lift. The metallic doors slid open with a hiss, and he hurried inside, pressing the button for his destination.

Amidst the urgency, a distant explosion reverberated through the castle. Grimes barely flinched; such disturbances were commonplace near the toxic levels of the nearby lake. He arrived at his destination and burst into a room where a figure clad in the same bodysuit as Tony awaited, Gerald Lancaster.

"Sir Lancaster!" Grimes exclaimed, breathless with urgency. "We need you immediately. It's the boy—something's gone wrong!"

Gerald's eyes narrowed as he took in Grimes's disheveled appearance. "Explain," he demanded, his tone commanding.

"There was an experiment, and—"

"Who authorized this experiment?" Gerald interrupted, his voice sharp with authority.

"I... I did, but I left him in the care of two others from our team," Grimes explained hastily.

Gerald's expression darkened. "You left him unattended?" he growled, his voice low with anger.

"No, no! They were supposed to be watching him," Grimes insisted, his voice pleading.

Gerald's gaze bore into Grimes's, his blue eyes flashing with fury. "Everyone is recharging their suits," he snapped, seizing Grimes by the collar and pulling him closer.

Grimes felt a chill of fear race down his spine as he struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Before he could respond, his vision blurred, and darkness enveloped him as he collapsed in Gerald's grasp.

With a frustrated grunt, Gerald released Grimes, his mind racing with the implications of their vanished charge. Hastily, he dashed towards the room where the boy had been left, his heart pounding with dread as he realized the perilous predicament they now faced.

"We are so dead."

Meanwhile, In the vast expanse of a sun-drenched field, blades of grass swayed gently in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing sea of green that stretched as far as the eye could see.

In a humble hut nestled amidst verdant seclusion, where the entrance required a stoop to pass through, resided a pale, white-haired ten-year-old boy. Wrapped in a hospital bedsheet, he lay in silent slumber, unaware of the momentous events unfolding around him.

At the threshold of the hut stood a teenage ginger-haired girl, Bell, her gaze fixed on the scene before her. "Will potion work?" she inquired, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

"It must... it simply must," replied the man seated beside the boy, his hands trembling with anticipation. This man was Tony, and his determination was palpable as he stared intently at the boy before him.

"If it fails, all hope is lost – for everyone, including me, and my ancestors—" Tony's words trailed off as Bell interjected.

Her tone matter-of-fact yet tinged with sarcasm.

"Your ancestors are long gone, Tony," she stated, her voice carrying a note of gentle admonishment as she crossed the threshold to join him.

Tony's response was cut short by a wet, slithering sound emanating from the boy's direction. Both he and Bell turned their attention to the boy just in time to witness a grotesque orange slug emerge from his nose, followed by a fit of coughing.

A moment of tense silence enveloped the hut as Tony's breath caught in his throat. Then, as if in a miraculous turn of events, the boy's coughing ceased, replaced by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"We've done it!" Bell exclaimed, her voice filled with incredulous joy.

"H-he's alive!" Tony exclaimed, his disbelief giving way to unbridled elation as he watched the boy stir from his slumber.

As the boy's eyes fluttered open, he was met with the sight of two jubilant figures dancing before him.

"We've saved the last of the WIZARDS!" they declared in unison.