In an underground darkness, where night held no end, a young man awoke drenched in sweat, as if he'd just escaped a nightmare that had tried to drown him. His breath was jagged, his chest rising and falling violently, and his body trembled as though his bones were colliding inside him.
A whisper, barely audible, slipped from his lips:
— "W-… who am I? What brought me here…?"
The place was nothing but a cell. A prison without a jailer.
Damp stone walls reeked of rusted iron and ancient rot. A small, worn-out mattress. A crooked wooden chair that looked on the verge of collapse. A rusty bucket, a chipped bowl, and a half-filled glass of stagnant water.
He rose with effort, staggering toward the iron-barred gate, each step hesitant, tense. Every breath felt like it was being torn from his lungs.
As he neared, he noticed a phrase carved into the center of the door:
"Block 1: Solitary – Kantice"
His lips moved involuntarily, as though his mind had pulled the name from some forgotten depth:
— "Kantice…? Yes… K… Kantice. That's… my name?"
No answer came. Yet something inside him whispered: yes.
He returned to the bed and sat. Fatigue crushed him. His head spun, eyes unfocused, heart pounding like war drums. Everything was heavy. Disjointed. Unreal.
Suddenly—footsteps.
Thump… thump… thump…
Heavy, slow. As if from a man bloated with weight or burdened by exhaustion.
Panic. The air grew thick.
Kantice leapt up instinctively, hiding behind the iron door. His breath came in gasps. His chest rose in uneven bursts. His eyes locked on the entry.
The sound of keys.Metal shifting.The creaking of the gate as it opened.
The guard stepped inside. His face contorted in confusion, eyes widening, sweat pouring down. He stammered:
— "What the hell…? He shouldn't be awake. He was supposed to sleep for another week!"
But he had no time to react. Kantice emerged from behind like a shadow, striking his neck with a precise blow that sent the man crumpling to the floor.
Without hesitation, Kantice slipped out of the cell. Hallways stretched ahead—narrow, dimly lit. Iron doors. Silence pressing from every direction. He sprinted toward the windows, broke one with the guard's baton, and jumped without hesitation.
The ground below was far. But he didn't stop.
He fell onto a tree.
A grunt of pain escaped his clenched jaw. His limbs quaked. His back screamed.
— "Ah… I can't feel… anything. My body's breaking apart. Damn it…"
He slid from the branches and dropped to the earth, stumbling, crawling, dragging himself forward like a drunken man caught between dreams and death.
Then—a wild deer.
It dashed past him. Without thought, Kantice struck its skull with the iron rod. It collapsed instantly.
— "I'm… lucky? No… that's impossible…"
He gathered dry wood, sparked a weak fire, and collapsed onto it like a dying man clutching heat.
The sun vanished.
Shadows crawled over the forest floor.
A rustle—a rabbit.
Kantice stirred.
Hunger roared in his mind. He sniffed the deer—it had begun to rot.
— "Damn it… I can't eat this."
He left it behind, gripping the wood and the iron baton, his mind muttering:
— "They're chasing me… I don't know who… but I can feel them."
Night closed in, but in the distance… a field.
And a fruit tree.
He ran.
Collapsed beneath it.
Chewed through the fruit, hungry like a beast.
And for the first time since awakening…
He breathed without pain.
And slept.