The path from the cell was long and silent, lined with obsidian walls that reflected Kairo's face in warped, distorted fragments. The guards didn't speak. They didn't need to. The destination was clear: the Hall of Penitence, a chamber few left with their sanity intact.
The doors opened with a grinding roar. The air inside was thick, heavy, tasting of iron and ash. Black chains hung from the ceiling, each tipped with hooks, blades, and other implements that glimmered faintly in the torchlight.
Hades stood at the far end, hands clasped behind his back. "The next round will demand more of you," he said, his voice calm. "But before then… I must see how far you can be pushed."
The guards shoved Kairo to the center. Shackles locked around his wrists and ankles, raising him until his feet barely touched the ground.
Then the pain began.
Not from the hooks, not at first. It started as a flicker in his mind — a memory that didn't belong to him. He saw fields burning under a black sun, heard cries in languages he had never spoken, felt the cold weight of a crown on his head.
"You remember us," one of the voices said, smooth and regal.
"We remember you," another snarled.
"You wore our power once. You will again."
Then the physical pain struck. Hooks dug into his skin, not enough to maim, but enough to keep him in a state of constant, raw agony. The scent of his own blood mingled with the phantom images in his mind. He couldn't tell which was worse — the sting of the steel or the visions of slaughter flooding his head.
This isn't real, he told himself. But the hooks were real. The chains were real. The blood was real.
"You are ours," one god whispered.
"No, you are mine," another countered.
"I will kill the others for you," one promised.
"I will kill him," another hissed, meaning Hades.
Kairo's breath came ragged. His vision darkened at the edges. The faint silver in his hair pulsed, like a heartbeat, brighter with each wave of pain. His fingers twitched against the shackles — not his movement, but theirs.
Finally, Hades raised his hand. The hooks withdrew, the visions vanished, and Kairo collapsed to the floor. He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face, his body aching in ways no wound could explain.
"Enough," Hades said, voice low but absolute. "Clean him. Send him to the arena. Round Four begins."
As the guards dragged him away, the seven voices spoke in unison for the first time:
When you break… the world will follow