Pain slammed into Kai like a tidal wave, a brutal surge that tore through his ruined body the moment he struck the pit's unforgiving floor. The impact jarred every nerve, ripping a guttural groan from his throat as he crumpled against the stone. Blood seeped from his flayed forearm, the exposed muscle twitching uncontrollably.
The scorched skin across his chest pulsed with a deep, nauseating heat. His hands—nails torn to raw stumps—throbbed with every heartbeat, jagged fingers scraping the dirt with trembling friction. Deep lacerations carved into his shoulder and ribs bled freely, soaking the earth beneath him. His thigh screamed where the blade had carved deep, and the chemical sting of memory solvent still burned in his veins, distorting his mind with shattered images and broken thoughts.
His skull pounded from the cord they'd rammed into his ear, the ache blossoming behind his eyes. Every breath rasped through a bruised throat, the imprint of restraint still livid on his skin. Fresh bruises from the fall layered over older damage, stacking agony upon agony. His body wasn't just injured—it was fragmenting.
His eyes flicked open. Vision swam in red.
The pit was a tomb.
Jagged stone walls rose into darkness, their edges veined with rust and moss. Skeletons littered the corners like discarded props from some ancient performance, bones bleached and cracked, fingers still curled around invisible regrets. And beside him—
A fresh corpse.
Slumped against the wall, neck bent at an unnatural angle, eyes glassy and half-lidded. Blood still wet on torn clothing. The scent of iron clung to the air like breathless warning.
A grim companion.
Kai screamed.
It wasn't defiant—it was animal. A raw, broken sound that clawed its way up from his gut and cracked through the silence like a curse. He slammed his injured hand against the wall, bone grinding, nerves lighting up with cruel fire. His mangled fingers split further, blood smearing stone in dark streaks.
He struck again.
And again.
Pain bloomed. His knuckles cracked. A piece of nail peeled away entirely.
Again.
Rage blurred into despair. His arm trembled. His hand sagged open like a dead flower. He panted, forehead pressed to the wall, blood trickling down the side of his face.
Then, slowly, he collapsed.
Back against the wall. Cold against skin. The corpse beside him—silent, judging, waiting.
His chest heaved in shallow bursts. "Fuck…" he croaked, voice hoarse and shuddering. "I'm… I'm actually fucked. They took Velnix, they… damnit, fuck—"
The words tangled into a choking sob, his throat catching.
The silence where she should be was worse than the pain. No hum. No presence. Just emptiness.
A pit inside a pit.
"I'm… I'm actually going to die," he whispered.
And he meant it.
The skeletons stared through hollow sockets. His blood kept seeping. The ever-lasting smokes pouch dangled in his ruined hand—a relic, a joke, a piece of comfort in a place where comfort had no meaning.
The cold reached through him like fingers.
And for the first time, Kai's defiance cracked.
Not broke.
But cracked.
And he began to slide—slowly, silently—toward surrender.
They took his phone and communicator, Velnix. Then they tortured me for my smokes but Kai held out. It seemed the ghoul didn't care and just enjoyed the pain caused.
Kai coughs some blood up.
"Ahhh, shit, they really did toss one in! Hey—hey, boys! New meat's here!" The voice rang out, sharp and theatrical, laced with mockery. "And look at him—fuckin' mangled already! That one's not makin' it past Day Two, mark my words!"
More laughter followed, faint echoes from somewhere behind the figure. Boots scraped across concrete. Kai squinted.
The man above stepped into the sliver of light.
He wore a tattered vest, sleeves ripped off to show arms covered in crude tattoos and ritual scars. A dozen charm necklaces hung from his neck, clinking like teeth when he moved. His grin stretched too wide, yellowed teeth on full display. His eyes sparkled with sick amusement.
"You hear me down there, sunshine?" he called, cupping his hands like he was offering mercy. "You shoulda pissed yourself on the way in. That gets you pity bites. Not that anyone's comin' to help. Only thing they drop down here is meat and bets."
He leaned over, letting spit dangle for dramatic tension, then flicked it off casually. It hit the dirt near Kai's foot.
"Tell me—what'd you do to get tossed, huh? Steal from a Cleanser? Talk back to the warden? Or are you just one of those pretty-face types they really like ruining?" He snorted, laughing again. "Doesn't matter. You're dead either way."
He tapped the railing with something—a metal baton or a crowbar. "Gotta be honest though, you don't look like a fighter. You look like someone who cries when they kill the first time. Oughta be fun watchin' that."
Then, almost kindly, he added, "Hey—don't die tonight, yeah? It's more fun when they break slow."
And with that, he disappeared from view.
Only the laughter remained.