The agony dragged his spirit toward madness.
His mind—splintered, screaming—no thought, only pain.
Pain pain pain—what was it? Why? When?
Again.
Againagainagain—
He couldn't tell what had happened. Only that it hurt.
Everything was pain.
Memory: pain.
Skin: pain.
Time: pain.
What was the cause? Who did it?
Did it matter?
No—only pain.
Pain in the blood. Pain in the bones.
Pain in the very word pain.
P a i n. P a i n. P a i n.
Only pain existed—relentless, eternal, merciless.
[Soul's Crucible]. He needed [Soul's Crucible]—it could stop the pain, right? It would ease his suffering.
No, he needed [Eidolon Flesh]. Healing without potions, immediate relief.
But where?
Where were they?
It hurt.
Everywhere.
Anywhere.
Why.
Why.
Why.
Everything hurt.
[Soul's Crucible]. He needed [Soul's Crucible].
Where was [Soul's Crucible]?
His mind was like stained glass—cracking, splintering, shattering into fine, meaningless grains of sand. And yet—
