Aarav had read plenty of web novels, seen countless animes—he knew exactly how this was supposed to go. That one legendary word was the key to endless potential, a cheat code to unlock everything: his powers, his stats, the truth of his situation.
And now… he had finally spoken it. The word hung heavy in the stale air.
For a moment, he swore he could almost see it—an ethereal shimmer, bluish light flickering at the edges of his vision, the telltale glow of a system screen peeling itself into existence.
At least… that's how he wanted it to be.
Instead, there was nothing.
No window. No ruins. No magical letters dancing in the air.
Just cold, dead silence.
Completely deadpan, Aarav muttered, "If there's a god out there… why the hell are you messing with me?"
"So… there's nothing else I can do then?" Aarav whispered to himself, eyes narrowing. "No system, no cheat screen… but maybe... there's something—some kind of power. Superhuman strength, maybe?"
Almost nervously, he moved his hands, fingers trembling slightly as he reached for one of the cold iron bars of the cage. He wrapped both hands around it, heart pounding, and—carefully, almost shyly—began to pull.
At first, it resisted. Then, with a quiet, awful crunch, the bar gave way.
His eyes widened.
"It… it's crushed," he muttered, staring down at his palms, now gripping a warped, broken piece of iron no bigger than his hand.
His expression darkened. Confusion, fear, and the sharp sting of realization all surged through him at once, clashing and tangling in his chest.
Seriah must've noticed. She whipped her head around, eyes going wide, and panicked. She gestured frantically—urgent, sharp hand signals—and whispered harshly, her voice tight with fear.
"Hide it," her eyes seemed to scream.
Snapping back to his senses, Aarav quickly did as she asked, concealing the mangled piece under his ragged blanket. He sat still, breathing hard, his thoughts a whirlwind.
It was small—just a crushed bar the size of his palm.
But it was enough.
Enough to make him question everything.
Excited now, Aarav's eyes darted down to his forearms. He flexed—tightened every fiber of his muscle—and stared.
A thick, pulsing pump swelled under his skin, just like the feeling he got in the gym when pushing to absolute failure… that burning, stretched sensation when your body feels like it might burst.
But this—this was different.
There was no soreness. No ache. Instead, a raw, dangerous power vibrated through his limbs, as if his hands alone could crush anything he wanted, at will.
His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling with growing intensity.
"I… I can control this," he thought, eyes locked on the tense, veiny lines running up his arm. "And—beyond that... I feel like I can push past any limit I ever knew."
He sat still, gripping his knees, and closed his eyes for a moment.
Deep breath in.
What… is happening to me?
And for the first time since arriving in this nightmare, Aarav wasn't just surviving—he was introspecting,
Since he'd started noticing the strange patterns—no need for sleep, no hunger, no thirst, and now this demonic, almost superhuman strength—Aarav couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously off. Crushing that steel—or whatever material the cage was made of—wasn't something any normal person could do. He stared at his hands, a strange mix of fear and excitement stirring inside him.
Could there be... more?
A greedy smile tugged at his lips.
If I don't need food or sleep… if I don't age… does that mean I'm immortal?
That thought stuck with him, circling in his head for hours.
Eventually, curiosity won out. He grabbed the crushed piece of iron and, almost absentmindedly, began pressing and pulling at it.
To his surprise—it moved.
It bent under his fingers like clay, soft and malleable.
His eyes widened in disbelief. He had no clue about chemistry or how metals were supposed to behave, but this—this wasn't normal. The material shouldn't feel this soft.
His mind jumped.
Wait… if I can do this, can she?
He turned to the girl, passed her the chunk of metal, and gestured for her to try bending it. She looked confused at first, but after a few more gestures, she understood and gave it her best shot.
Aarav watched closely, eyes sharp with curiosity.
She gritted her teeth, tried with all her might… but nothing.
The metal didn't budge an inch.
Frowning, Aarav took it back, his thoughts racing.
So it's just me.
He shaped it again, this time molding it into a rough, jagged blade. It wasn't perfect, but the edges looked sharp enough to cut.
His heart thudded as he shaped the tip into a crude knife point.
Hesitating for a moment, he gulped—then pressed the blade to his palm and dragged it slowly across his skin.
Nothing.
He pressed harder, expecting at least the familiar sting, a tiny bead of blood, anything.
But after a few tense moments… still nothing.
It was as if the blade just glided over his skin, leaving no mark at all.
Aarav's expression darkened, a chill creeping up his spine.
A few more swipes—no pain, no blood, not even a scratch.
He stared at his hand, silent. His fingers tightened slightly around the crude blade.
What… am I?
Frustration simmered beneath his skin, his expression darkening as a twisted thought crept into his mind.
Am I the only one... or is it just that the blade itself is useless?
His eyes drifted toward the pale girl, her ember-like eyes locked onto him, wide and unblinking. She looked tense—almost as if she were trying to will him to stop. Her body trembled slightly under his gaze, her frame shrinking back as his expression grew more... animalistic.
Is she scared of me?
The realization hit him, and he froze for a moment, the knife still in his hand.
His gaze flicked between the crude blade and Seriah. Hesitantly, he started gesturing, clumsy but clear—motioning for her to try the same, to test the blade on herself.
But halfway through, guilt clawed at him.
What the hell am I doing?
His stomach twisted in shame. His expression softened, eyes falling, lips pressed tight. Slowly, almost painfully, he met her ember eyes again—but this time with sadness, with something that looked like an apology shimmering behind his tired gaze.
He didn't say a word. No excuse. No explanation.
Instead, Aarav stepped back, moving to the corner of the cage, slipping under the ragged blanket that barely shielded him from the cold.
And he hid.
For a long while, Aarav sat there, buried in his shame. His mind churned, heavy with guilt, frustration, and a raw helplessness he couldn't shake.
Then, gently—hesitantly—he felt a hand reach out.
The cage was small, barely the size of a storage closet, yet the warmth of her touch reached him like a spark in the dark. He froze. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt like crying. The weight of everything—the unknown world he'd been thrown into, the impossible things happening to his body—pressed down on him all at once.
He clenched his jaw, burying his face in the rough fabric of the blanket, willing himself to hold it together. Somehow, he managed. Slowly, he looked up, meeting her eyes with a weak, trembling smile.
Her face softened. There was relief there, subtle but unmistakable. She held his hand tighter, settling down beside him, staying close.
The rest of the day passed like the others. The slave keeper came, tossing them their rations—extra again for the girl. Aarav, as usual, gave his share to her without a word. But inside, his mind was racing.
Today was different. Today wasn't mundane.
When night fell, the girl eventually drifted off, her soft hands still wrapped around his. Aarav stared at her peaceful face, then at the crude blade resting nearby.
His curiosity refused to die.
This time, I won't break down. No emotions, he told himself, gripping the knife.
With a sharp inhale, he acted—quick and brutal—lifting the blade and striking it hard toward his own neck, determined to end it, once and for all.
But to his shock, the moment the blade made contact—
—it disintegrated.
Crumbled into dust between his fingers.
Aarav stared, eyes wide, heart pounding, as the remnants of the blade slipped through his grasp and scattered to the floor like ash.
He laughed in a low tone—quiet at first, then again, over and over, like a broken record. The rush of adrenaline still pumped through him, leaving his body tense and jittery. He found himself right at the edge, staring into the void of his own thoughts.
I kind of knew this would happen… but still…
The fact that the knife—no, the crude blade he'd shaped—hadn't even nicked him, that it had simply crumbled away… something about that was deeply disappointing.
"Was I really trying to kill myself?" he whispered to himself, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Since when… did I become this weak?"
Hours drifted by in silence. Time, like always in this place, felt warped—slow, yet relentless. Eventually, the girl stirred awake. As usual, she stretched lazily and washed her face with the little bit of water they had.
Aarav sat there, watching her quietly, eyes locked onto her in a trance-like way. The girl noticed his gaze and tilted her head slightly, puzzled.
"Dusk?" she asked softly, her voice still thick with sleep.
Aarav, thinking quickly, pointed at his tongue, over and over again.
Her face turned bright red, and she flailed her hands in front of her in a panic, shaking her head wildly. Aarav stared, confused for a moment, but then… slowly, after a bit of back and forth, the girl's expression shifted as understanding dawned.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
She gets it now…
And just like that, a new resolve lit up inside him. Watching her, seeing that spark of communication flicker between them, Aarav's curiosity burned even hotter.
I need to learn their language, he told himself firmly. No matter what !