"First there was pain, then anger... now, only purpose remains."
— Unknown File, Source: Switzerland.
__________________________________________
Chapter 6: Free and unbound.
Pov. Eva.
Darkness.
Pain.
Anger.
That was all that remained.
That, and Victor.
His name burned in every corner of her mind. Like a beacon. Like a curse.
It began from the first day of her stay in the darkness, and eventually progressed to this moment.
When the door burst open and the seals gave way, she emerged.
Reborn.
Not as what it had been.
But as what pain had made her.
The mansion smelled of dust and damp, but also of a bitter emptiness, of abandonment.
Her bare feet moved forward with no real direction, but her soul did have one.
Victor. He had to be here. He had to pay. HE HAD TO SUFFER!!!
And then—footsteps.
A silhouette appeared at the end of the hall.
Eva roared.
His arm shot up before she could stop him, his fingers closing in an instant around that neck, and he lifted her off the floor effortlessly, as if his body moved by instinct.
"Where is he?!" she bellowed, her voice distorted by the electricity building in her body, by the weight of the stifled scream.
The floor creaked beneath her heels, cracking as if it too sensed her fury. Her arm shot up—not by choice, but by pure, violent, unstoppable instinct.
"Where's Victor?! WHERE ARE YOU HIDING HIM?!"
The person tried to speak, but only managed a strangled moan. It was useless.
Eva squeezed… as if with it she could crush the rage consuming her from within.
She didn't see a face. She didn't see an ally.
Only an obstacle.
A barrier between her and Him.
The figure's eyes widened in terror. Eva squeezed harder.
Her vision vibrated. The world shook with the storm raging in her chest.
It burned, it overflowed, she had to let it out: and it seemed this would be the first casualty of the flood.
But then...
A tremor. A voice. A familiar voice.
"...E-Eva..."
That word.
Her name.
Spoken with fear, yes, but also with a trace of pain.
Eva blinked.
As if someone had pulled back a curtain, the image before her cleared for a second.
Emma.
Her face, contorted with anguish. Her large, wet eyes fixed on hers not with hatred... but with pleading.
Eva recoiled as if struck.
She blurted out suddenly. Emma fell to her knees, coughing, clutching her neck in a spasm.
"No..." Eva murmured, as if barely understanding what she had just done. "It wasn't you..."
Her fist clenched.
Not against Emma, but against herself.
What was she doing?
Her breathing was ragged, labored, but not from physical exertion.
It was the chaos boiling inside her.
Like a swarm of broken, boiling emotions.
"...Why?..." she thought, unable to hold onto a single thought.
Why did this happen?
Emma… I hurt her… I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to! But…
Anger.
Guilt.
Fury.
Horror.
Anger.
Again.
Her mind spun in circles, as if trapped in a storm with no way out…
Until something emerged from the mist.
One word.
Clear.
Sharp.
Victor.
That word was the lynchpin.
The core.
Yes.
It wasn't her fault.
It was Victor's.
He locked her away.
He abandoned her.
He destroyed her from the inside.
He turned her into this.
Because of him, she had hurt Emma.
Because of him.
Because of his cowardice.
Because of his cruelty.
Victor.
Victor.
VICTOR!!!
__________________________________________
Pov. Third person.
Eva was trembling.
Not from the cold.
Not from weakness.
But from something deeper. Older.
Something that burned deep within her.
Although her actions toward Emma had halted the storm for an instant...
It wasn't enough.
It simply wasn't enough.
An electric pulse coursed through her recomposed body, vibrating beneath her skin as if every strand of her flesh knew its purpose: to find Victor.
Nothing else mattered.
A low moan made her turn her head. Emma was leaning against the wall, coughing hard.
Eva didn't move.
He just watched her.
Her breathing was heavy.
Her hair, soaked and wild, dripped onto the floor in dark strands.
And her eyes...
They weren't those of a person.
They were those of a storm yet to break.
Dark, tense, inhuman.
Then a soft voice, barely a murmur, broke the thick air between them:
"...Eva."
She turned sharply.
At the end of the hall stood Lea, as stoic as ever...but only in appearance.
Her posture was rigid, almost defensive. Her expression, restrained, but her dark eyes shone with something different.
Amazement? Fear? Compassion?
Eva didn't think about it. She just walked toward her with hard, resonant steps, like thunder on old wood.
And stopped just a few feet away.
"Where... is... VICTOR?!" —he roared with such force that the walls of the mansion seemed to shake with his fury.
Lea hesitated.
For the first time in a long time, the impassive servant showed something other than calm.
She showed fear.
She showed humanity.
"II... I don't know..." she stammered, her voice barely a broken whisper. "He's been gone... for..."
But Eva wasn't listening anymore.
She couldn't.
The roar in her mind was louder than any words.
She spun around.
Her eyes brimmed with rage.
And then she ran.
A door fell.
Then another.
A cupboard slammed against the wall.
A chair was pulverized.
One room after another, without pause. Without direction. Without reason.
"Victor! Where are you?!" she screamed like a broken beast, her voice torn by hatred and despair, as her hands destroyed everything they touched.
Lea and Emma followed her from afar, powerless, trembling shadows before a hurricane.
The mansion creaked with each impact.
The walls seemed to groan.
As if even the home knew something terrible had awakened within.
Until Eva stopped in front of an oak door.
The office.
He entered with a brutal shove.
And there it was.
The place where Victor thought. Where he wrote. Where he plotted his alchemy and his silence.
And on the wall, on a ledge tilted by dust:
A portrait of him.
Victor, standing, with his robe and his air of grandeur. His distant, intelligent gaze.
Eva looked at him. Just for a second.
And then she screamed.
A shriek from beyond the grave.
And her fist pierced the canvas, the wood, and part of the wall behind it. The frame splintered. Pieces of the wall fell like ash.
"...it's not here..." she murmured, her breathing more labored than ever. "Why isn't it...?"
She fell to her knees.
She fell to her knees.
The power that drove her to escape was gone.
The electricity her body absorbed had dissipated.
Her skin burned. Her muscles trembled. The world began to spin. Everything felt... distant. As if her body were fading away again.
"I must... find him..." she gasped. "He has to pay... BUT HE'S NOT HERE!"
Then... th-then...
Her voice broke.
And then, a figure appeared in the doorway.
Lea.
The maid said nothing at first.
She just stood there in the doorway, looking at the mess. The room in ruins. Victor's portrait destroyed. The floor covered in splinters and fragments of plaster. And at the center of it all... her.
Eva.
The creature who had awakened between hatred and hope. The one who had been abandoned and returned to the world with a wound that was impossible to heal.
Lea didn't see her as a monster.
Not at that moment.
She only saw a broken girl, gasping on the ground, her fists bleeding, her face distorted by pain too great for a single existence.
"...Eva," she finally murmured.
The creature looked up. Its body was trembling. Its eyes, still clouded with anger, slowly focused on the servant.
It didn't speak.
It only breathed.
Lea took a cautious step forward. Her gaze scanned the room as if searching for something in the rubble that might explain everything… but there was nothing to explain.
There was no need.
"You won't find him like this," she said, her voice low, almost fragile. "Destroying everything… shouting his name… won't work. He's not here anymore, Eva. He hasn't been… for months."
Eva didn't respond.
But her pupils contracted. Her lips barely parted.
"Three months," Lea continued, lowering her head, her voice barely a whisper. "It was the same day he locked you away… the same day he gave us his final orders and left. He didn't tell us where. He didn't even leave letters. No stamps. He just… left."
A silence stretched, thick.
Eva lowered her gaze. Her hands, still stained with dried dust and traces of blood, clenched into tight fists.
"So..." her voice came out low, cracking at first, but hardening with each word, "you already knew?"
Lea looked up slightly, uncertain.
"You both knew?" Eva continued, rage surfacing again, her pupils vibrating with shards of electricity. "What he was going to do to me? What he... did to me?"
Silence.
Lea pressed her lips together. Her face wasn't one of indifference... but of shame.
"...Yes," she finally said, barely audible.
The electricity around Eva's body crackled more strongly. Her hair stood up slightly from the buildup of energy. Her breathing became faster. Sharper. More animal-like.
"And you didn't do anything...?" Her words trembled, barely contained. "You left me... there?"
A step forward. The air stiffened.
"...Alone? Knowing what that... Damn it!... man was planning to do?"
"...We had orders."
The sentence fell like a knife.
Deaf. Cold. Inexcusable.
Eva froze. Her lips trembled. Her eyes, fixed on Lea, showed no tears... only a silent fury that threatened to burn everything.
For a second, the world seemed about to crumble again.
But then...
Leah lowered her head. Her shoulders trembled slightly. And in a low, barely trembling voice, she added:
"But now," Leah said, her voice trembling only for a moment before she affirmed it. "Now I no longer have to obey.
I can... do what I should have done from the beginning."
Her words weren't harsh. But they felt like lightning in the stillness that surrounded them.
For a moment, there was no response.
The sparks surrounding Eva's body flickered... then diminished, until they were almost extinguished.
She looked at her, still panting, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
Her eyes, once raging flames, now flickered with a less murky emotion.
Confusion.
Doubt.
Bewilderment.
She didn't understand why that part of her—that broken, betrayed part—didn't roar at her.
Why she didn't push him away.
Why she didn't attack him.
But she didn't.
Because deep down… she wanted to believe she.
Lea held her gaze. She no longer flinched. She no longer trembled.
As if the fragile woman of a moment before had vanished, leaving only that strange, almost impossible calm, like the center of a storm's eye.
And then, in a firm, clear tone, as if that were the only decision she could make:
"Follow me."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned.
Eva blinked, bewildered. She didn't understand. She didn't fully comprehend… but she followed.
They both walked silently through the devastated corridors, past the remains of broken doors, overturned furniture, and paintings ripped from their frames. The echo of their footsteps mingled with the rumble of the storm raging outside. Lightning flickered through the broken windows.
Until they reached the workshop.
Eva stopped dead as she crossed the threshold.
She recognized it. It was the same place where everything had ended... or begun.
The air there was thicker. As if it still held the echoes of confinement, of fear, of betrayal.
Marks of dried blood and dragging, memories of her struggle to rebuild and then escape.
But Lea didn't stop. She walked to one of the far walls and placed her hand on a particular section.
Her magical circuits ignited instantly: lines of azure light ran across her skin from her wrist to her fingers, as if the flesh itself had turned into living glass.
Eva's eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, her anger seemed to give way to astonishment.
"Is that it…!"
She had always felt it: that something was strange about Lea, about Emma, even about herself… but to see that light glimmer beneath the skin… to see the ancient words take shape…
It was something else.
"Enthülle!" Lea's voice was firm, and as she spoke the spell, the wall responded.
A hidden mechanism activated. A soft creak and a barely perceptible vibration.
Then the wall slowly opened, revealing a small, sealed chamber.
The small room was set apart from the rest of the workshop, almost a secret sanctuary.
A dim light pierced the dusty window, illuminating an antique, time-worn desk. On the walls hung numerous objects and tools of all kinds.
There were also jars of greenish liquids and strange mechanisms that hummed softly, as if pulsing with their own energy.
If there was a word that could describe that place for Eva… it would be magical.
Yes, magical.
Not because of its beauty or its order—because the place was narrow, old, covered in dust and smelled of dry wood—but because of what it evoked.
Because there, for the first time, she felt the hidden heartbeat of the world. An invisible and ancient murmur, as if the objects were whispering secrets only to those who knew how to listen.
Eva remained motionless, her gaze fixed.
Like a child seeing the rain for the first time.
Meanwhile, Lea walked past her, with a firm and serene step, and approached the desk at the back of the room.
"Master Victor didn't tell us where he planned to go," he said without looking at her, his voice soft but firm, as he fixed his eyes on a specific spot on the desk. "So we can't give you any specific directions..."
"Even if you go out looking for him now, you might never find him..."
He was silent for a moment.
Then he sighed, like someone deciding something he'd been holding back for a long time.
With careful hands, he removed a cloth covering an object. And there, in the dim light that entered through the crack in the hallway, he revealed it:
A silver compass.
Ancient, shining, with a polish that defied time. In its center, embedded, a white gem so pure it seemed to pulse with a light of its own.
"But... with this," Lea continued, taking it and holding it out to Eva, "you might have a chance."
Eva took it with trembling hands. The compass's cold surface startled her.
She studied it carefully, not fully understanding.
"What is it…?" she murmured, her voice hoarse.
"It's an old mystical code," Lea said. "It was created a long time ago by the Frankenstein family."
He approached, taking a slow step, as if not wanting to break the moment, and stood right beside her.
"It's designed to track bastard children," he explained calmly. "Those born with Frankenstein blood outside the direct lineage… those without the surname."
He leaned down and gently pointed to the arrow engraved on the dial.
"This," he said, "indicates the direction of the nearest individual with Frankenstein blood."
Then he moved his finger toward the gem in the center.
"And this gem… will change color as you approach: from white to yellow… from yellow to orange… and from orange to red."
When it's red... it's because you're very, very close.
Eva held the compass somewhat awkwardly, her fingers brushing the cold silver as her eyes rested on the white gem that seemed to glow with its own light, dim but alive.
A strange feeling bubbled in her chest: a mixture of hope and bewilderment.
For the first time since she'd left, something told her that maybe... there was a chance.
A chance for revenge.
To find Victor.
To confront him.
To make him pay.
Her eyes lifted to Lea's, searching for not only certainty, but a glimmer of understanding. Of support.
Although Eva didn't finish the sentence, Lea understood perfectly what she meant.
She lowered her head and whispered in a hushed voice,
"Serving the Frankenstein family... Victor... was what we were created to do. That was our purpose. Our reason for existing."
"It's impossible to go against that... it would be like going against yourself," she murmured, squeezing the compass in her hands. "...or so I thought," she said later in an even lower tone.
Lea approached slowly and gently took Eva's face in her hands.
She shuddered... but didn't pull away.
"I should have helped you sooner," Lea confessed, her voice heavy with guilt. "I should have refused to obey Master Victor... even if it meant my elimination. But I didn't."
"You trusted me... and I did nothing when you needed me most."
She reached for Eva's hand, the one holding the compass, and gently closed her fingers around it.
"But at least... with this, I can try to make up for my mistake." Their eyes met. "I understand what will probably happen when you find it. I won't try to stop you... or help you beyond this. Emma would probably say something similar."
"I can only hope... that when this is all over... the pain in your heart has eased, even a little."
Eva remained motionless. Any anger she might have still felt toward Lea dissolved into silence. Only the anger directed at the one who truly deserved it remained.
Victor.
With a trembling hand, Eva held onto Lea's, gently pressing it against her face.
"Thank you," she whispered, with an honesty she had rarely felt.
"There's no reason... Eva."
__________________________________________
They remained like that for a few minutes before separating.
Once Eva released Lea's hand, the homunculus spoke in a firm but calm tone.
"You should leave as soon as possible. The longer you leave… the more distance there could be between them."
Eva nodded. Her face, still marked by emotion, was beginning to regain the wild, determined expression with which she had emerged from the darkness.
Her fury was no longer a raging fire, but a fire that burned steadily within her, directed and contained.
They both took a step toward the exit of the secret room, but Eva stopped suddenly, so abruptly that Lea—who was walking right behind her—tripped lightly against her back.
"What's wrong?" Lea asked, confused.
Eva didn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on a corner of the room. Lea followed her gaze… and there she saw that.
Leaning against the wall, covered in a fine layer of dust, lay a warhammer. Its shape was unusual: it appeared to be forged from a single twisted tree branch, but its body was metallic, solid, almost alive. The handle was long and firm, the head irregularly shaped, like wilted flowers forcibly fused into a circular shape resembling a closed chapel.
"What... is that?"
"That's the Mystic Code: Bridal Chest," Lea said, approaching. She stood next to Eva and pointed at the mace. "Its main function is to absorb excess magical energy from the environment and channel it into its wielder."
Master Victor tried using it a couple of times... but without reinforcement magic, it was too heavy, so I consider it a hindrance.
Eva couldn't take her eyes off the weapon.
Magic. Sorcery. Environmental.
"We were created..."
Strange words. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Distant voices echoed in his mind, echoes of memories that were not entirely her own.
The world seemed to tilt slightly, as if everything she knew was about to shake. A feeling like being on the brink of a revelation.
But it came to nothing. Only emptiness. A formless intuition.
Not now. Not yet.
There was something that came first. Something more urgent.
Revenge.
Eva approached the hammer. She reached out slowly, as if touching a sacred relic. And when her fingers touched the handle...
Zzzzztt.
A greenish spark leaped between her skin and the metal. A faint flash, a current that didn't hurt, but resonated.
The Bridal Chest responded. As if it recognized her. As if it knew it had finally reached the right person.
Eve lifted it with one hand. It was heavy… yes, but not as if it were a burden. It was heavy like an extension of her being.
As if her energy, her fury, her will flowed directly through that forged handle.
And for the first time since she'd emerged from confinement, she smiled.
Barely a gesture, slight, distorted by the scars of the past, but genuine…
and savage.
It wasn't a smile of joy or peace.
It was a grimace born of pain, fury, and determination.
A silent promise that this time she wouldn't be the prey.
That this time, she would be the storm.
Lea said nothing. But for a moment, a hint of respect… and fear appeared on her immutable face.
__________________________________________
The mansion's front door opened with a long creak.
Outside, the rain fell violently, and the sky split from time to time with furious flashes of lightning.
The thunderstorm roared as if the world shared the pent-up rage Eva carried in her chest.
She took a step forward, ready to cross the threshold.
But then—
"Wait!"
The voice stopped her.
Eva turned, her expression still tense, ready for anything… until she saw Emma running down the hallway.
For a moment, her body tensed, the still-fresh memories weighing like chains on her back.
But she didn't move.
Emma approached, and without another word, carefully placed a black cloak around her shoulders. Her hands trembled, barely concealed.
"It'll... it'll keep you dry," she said finally, her voice soft, her smile a little forced, as if she were trying to sound more assertive than she felt and hide the truth from her eyes.
But that was impossible.
After experiencing it for three months, it was impossible not to see it.
Fear. Toward her.
Eva lowered her gaze.
Then she noticed it: the violet marks still visible on Emma's neck.
The weight of guilt sank deeper into her chest like a stone.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, lowering her head, her fists clenched at her sides.
Emma blinked, surprised.
For a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. But finally, she gently shook her head.
"There you are," she thought with relief, and her smile, though faint, grew more genuine.
The trembling in her body subsided. Neither of them said anything else.
Eva nodded briefly, turned toward the storm... and took the first step toward her journey.
She draped the black cloak over her shoulders, covering the Bridal Casket she held tightly in her hands.
She took a few steps from the threshold… but stopped.
She turned his head over her shoulder, her eyes lit by the storm, and gave him a soft, genuine smile, slightly distorted by the scars on her face… but also deeply human.
"Emma, Lea… thank you for everything."
The words echoed in the air, clear and warm. For an instant, time seemed to stand still.
And both maids gasped.
It was as if everything... as if the last four months... had never happened.
As if the figure before them was the same curious, clumsy, yet kind creature who had once sat reading in the halls, asking questions about the world, silently offering flowers.
"Safe journey..." Emma said with a trembling smile, raising her hand in a gesture of farewell. Her eyes were moist, but she shed no tears.
Lea said nothing.
Her expression had returned to its usual composure: neutral, impassive. But in her mind, a silent prayer crossed her chest:
...please, be careful.
Eva nodded silently, as if she could hear her.
And then she crossed the threshold.
The rain immediately enveloped her, but she didn't flinch or stop. She walked straight, determined, as if the sky itself couldn't touch her.
Her silhouette receded, slowly becoming a mere dark dot in the storm.
A shadow lost in the thunder, the fury of the wind...
And the promise of the inevitable.
__________________________________________
Pov. Eva.
She walked in the rain, her footsteps echoing dully on the cold, soaked grass.
Every drop that hit her seemed to mark the rhythm of her memory.
Every flash of lightning, a scene etched in her memory.
Her rebirth in the darkness.
The first days of confusion and fear.
The faint hope born among dusty books and soft voices.
The two kind maids who became her family.
Her curiosity about the beautiful Caroline Frankenstein.
The wound opened by her creator.
The betrayal.
Her confinement.
The awakening.
And now...
It was time to begin.
She paused and pulled out the compass she held tightly. Rain dripped on the metal, but his eyes never lost sight of it. She remembered Lea's words, spoken softly as she handed him the object on the threshold of the mansion:
"I charged it with my magical energy... it should last a week, maybe a little longer." She had slowly separated her hands; beads of sweat trickled down her forehead from the exertion.
"After that, it will be useless."
"Remember... to activate it, you just have to say the code..."
Eva frowned, clenching her jaw.
"Appropriate..." he murmured.
And then, in a firm voice, she said:
"Jagen (Hunt)."
The compass shone with an intense white light. The central shaft trembled, began to spin like a mad weather vane... until, suddenly, it stopped.
Pointing directly north.
Small green sparks began to envelop Eva's body. Her breathing quickened. The Bridal Chest in her hand vibrated, flashed, and spun, absorbing the magic around her, returning it to her amplified.
Her eyes grew fierce. Her posture, savage. Her soul, awakened.
She opened her mouth and shouted into the storm:
"VICTOR!!"
Electricity enveloped her completely, dancing through her body as if it were an extension of her will.
And with a single step...
BOOM!
The ground shook. The air tore.
Eve shot forward like a green comet, piercing the darkness without hesitation.
Because the prey had already been marked.
Because the blood had already been spilled.
Because the monster... had already been unleashed.
Let the hunt begin.
End of Chapter 6
_________________________________________
Well, that's it for Chapter 6. I hope you liked it, and as always, any criticism or review is always welcome.