The sound of heavy breathing filled the small chamber.
There was a gentle, almost mechanical hum, followed by the sound of sizzling. Like droplets of water hitting hot coal.
In reality, the truth was not very far from such a picture painted.
Enter, Nero...
A young, aspiring warrior, candidate to join the forces of the Church's Order of the Crimson Crucible.
Within this small chamber, Nero breathes heavily. His arms strain against the weight of his body as he pushes against the hot, almost molten floor.
His flesh is singed, and the bitter smell of burn rises into his nostrils.
And yet, his body does not burn.
Nero's face is twisted in silent agony. But naught is what he does.
Because he is bereaved of choice.
'Fuck my life...' Nero curses in his mind.
It has been three days since his loss against the Templar. Lyon had said his punishment was to spend three days in the steam chamber.
