It had been two days since the slaughter.
The battlefield lay drowned in crimson, the stench of rot so thick it clawed at the throat. Corpses carpeted the ground, friend and foe alike, their flesh split open as maggots writhed from the wounds.
The mysterious black-clad soldiers had left nothing alive . Nothing… except "Kael".
Though perhaps it would have been better if He had died there with the rest.
Kael's POV
When I woke, I wasn't greeted by light.
I was drowning in shadows so thick, so heavy, it felt like the world itself had been swallowed whole. The only sound that proved I was alive was the rasp of my own screams, breaking again and again, echoing in the pitch-black chamber.
That man. The one who had grabbed me from the battlefield. He had dragged me here long before I could even open my eyes.
"Ah… #4044," a coarse voice rumbled from somewhere in the dark. The way he said it made my skin crawl. "Let's see what you've got."
My lips trembled as I forced words out, each syllable dry and cracked."…Isn't this enough?"
A pause. Then laughter low, harsh, and spine chilling."Enough? Hah. We haven't even started to play."
The needle slid into my flesh without warning. For a heartbeat, there was only the cold sting of metal. Then fire. Liquid fire tearing through my veins, boiling my blood, clawing at my bones from the inside out.
"Aaahhhhhh!"
My body convulsed violently, chains rattling as I slammed against the stone floor. My vision went white, then red, then nothing but fractured flashes. my own eyes bulging so far I thought they'd burst, muscles tearing as though something inside was trying to claw its way out.
I screamed until my throat shredded raw, but the agony didn't fade.
It only grew.
Every second stretched into eternity. I wanted it to end,I wanted to end. If I could have ripped my own skin open to claw out the burning veins, I would have. Death, any death would have been a mercy.
But death wouldn't come.
"You're holding on," the voice murmured, far too amused. A shadow leaned close, and I felt a gauntlet grip my jaw, forcing my head up. His tone was not praise. It was hunger."Good. Very good. You'll last."
I wheezed, mucus and blood running down my lips."Wh… why…?"
He chuckled, the sound scraping down my spine like nails."You'll find out soon enough. This chamber is only the beginning." His words curled with malice. "After all… what good is a toy if it breaks before the show?"
The show.
My heart lurched at the word.
He leaned closer, his breath heavy, cruel amusement dripping from every word."You'll get your stage soon, little slave. A grand one. Where the crowd roars, and the ground drinks blood."
The chains dug deeper into my wrists as I shuddered. I didn't understand not fully but I didn't need to.
Wherever he planned to throw me… it would make this chamber feel merciful.
Soon the wave of pain stopped, relieving me of the misery only to come back stronger.
I tried to chew off my tongue because the pain. It was miserable. Who would have thought doing a good deed would lead me to this hell. Ah, I shouldn't have pushed aside that boy.
MOM IT FUCKING HURTS....
***
"He has gone in a vegetative state," the man said, voice flat, almost bored. Then came the scrape of boots across stone, and another shadow emerged from the dark.
"Another failed experiment," the newcomer muttered. His tone carried no surprise, only irritation. "Vlad failed again."
A silence followed, heavy as the chains pinning me down. Failed. The word echoed through the haze of my mind, and some part of me wanted to laugh, if only my throat weren't shredded raw.
Because I wasn't gone. Not yet.
Every nerve screamed, every vein felt carved from molten lead, but somewhere in the torment, a thread of awareness clung on. My body was breaking, but something inside refused to snap.
**
I didn't even know how I was aware in that moment, although now that changed. But it really would have been better for me to have died there.
***
The one called Vlad grunted, annoyed. "Not failed. Not yet. Look at his eyes he's still in there, clawing at the edge."
Rough fingers forced my eyelids open. A flash of burning light stabbed into my vision, and I flinched, gagging on the bile in my throat.
"Hah… see?" Vlad's grin was audible in his voice. "This one doesn't want to die. Not really."
The other scoffed. "None of them wants to die. That's the point. They all break eventually."
"Not him," Vlad hissed, almost feverish. His grip tightened around my jaw, holding my ruined face to the dark. "He's different. The pain should've shattered him hours ago, but he's still hanging by a thread. Not strong enough to live yet too stubborn to die."
His laughter rolled through the chamber, jagged and hungry.
"Perfect."
The second figure sighed. "And if he collapses in the pit like the others?"
Vlad's reply came sharp and certain. "Then the crowd will tear him apart. Either way, he'll serve."
The word crowd pierced through the haze. My half broken mind twisted around it, clutching at its meaning. Crowd. Pit. A place where death wasn't a curse, but a spectacle.
The chains groaned as my body convulsed again, the fire roaring back through my veins. I bit down hard, teeth splitting skin, trying to smother the scream clawing up my throat.
The taste of blood filled my mouth.
The shadows laughed.
And in the distance, beyond this chamber, I swore I heard it—faint, but real. The echo of voices. A roar not of war, but of anticipation.
A crowd.
Waiting.