Alden von Astra — POV
Time is a luxury.
You don't really get that until it's taken away from you.
In the dark, time doesn't move like it's supposed to. It doesn't flow. It doesn't tick. It just… stretches. Twists. Breaks apart into tiny sensations that feel louder than they should.
The cold stone pressed against my cheek.
The damp air—thick with rust and mildew—clinging to my lungs.
The slow, heavy rhythm of my own heartbeat, like it had decided to conserve energy because it knew something I didn't want to admit.
They threw me into the Black Cell.
Yeah. 'That' place.
I knew about it from the rumour. A hidden pocket dimension buried under the Academy. Built to contain Class-S demonic entities. The kind of monsters that rewrite cities just by existing.
Now it was holding me.
There was no light. Not even a flicker. Not even the faintest leak through cracks. Absolute darkness.
There was no sound either. No distant echo. No dripping water. Nothing.
The silence wasn't peaceful. It was heavy. Like someone stuffed cotton into my ears and then filled my skull with it too.
But the worst part?
The emptiness.
The walls were lined with [Null-Space] arrays and [Anti-Magic] generators.
My mana wasn't gone. That would've been easier.
It was locked.
I could feel it—an entire ocean of power sitting right behind something solid. Like glass. Like steel. I pushed. Nothing. I tried to summon the [Void]. Space didn't even twitch. I tried to call the stars. The ceiling stayed stone.
I was just… human.
Just flesh in a box.
Thud.
The iron door groaned open.
Light stabbed into my eyes. White. Artificial. Cruel.
Three figures walked in.
Black rubber aprons over their Inquisition uniforms. White porcelain masks. No faces. No names. Just tools pretending to be people.
They didn't say a word.
One of them kicked me in the ribs.
CRACK.
No warning. No buildup.
The boot connected and I felt the rib snap like a dry twig. The pain was sharp. Blinding. Electric. I curled instinctively, choking on air that wouldn't come fast enough.
"What are you?"
The voice came from the one standing in the back. Metallic. Distorted. No gender. No emotion.
I spat blood onto the floor.
"Your mother's biggest regret?"
Stupid. Yeah. But if I was going down, I wasn't going down quiet.
The second figure stepped forward and stomped on my hand.
I heard the small bones grind.
"Ahhhaaaah!!!"
I screamed. I couldn't stop it.
"What are you?" the voice repeated. Same tone. Same calm.
"Alden… von… Astra," I wheezed.
Then it really started.
Not chaotic. Not angry.
Systematic.
They treated my body like a puzzle. Like something to be dismantled piece by piece to see what was inside.
They started with fingers.
Snap.
Toes.
Crunch.
"The soul signature is foreign," the voice said, almost bored. "It resists integration. Pain should loosen the bond."
My left wrist shattered.
I bit through my lip to stop the screaming. Blood filled my mouth.
My [Stellar Mental Resistance] kicked in hard. It split me in two.
There was Me—the one lying on the floor, bones breaking.
And there was Me—the one watching from a distance.
'It's just signals. Just nerves firing. It's not real. It's not real…'
But it was.
"Why is the host body compatible?"
A fist smashed into my jaw.
A tooth loosened. I tasted iron.
"Answer."
I said nothing.
Silence was mine. It was the only thing they couldn't forcibly take.
'If I told them I was a transmigrator?' Dead.
'If I insisted I was Alden?' They'd call it delusion.
So I gave them nothing.
After what felt like hours, they stopped.
My breathing was wet. Probably a punctured lung. My left hand felt like it didn't exist. My right eye was swollen shut.
"Healer," the leader said.
A fourth figure walked in.
This was the cruelest part.
The Healer raised a staff. Warm golden light flooded the room.
[High-Tier Restoration].
Pain vanished.
Bones knitted back together. Lung sealed. Bruises faded. Tooth reset.
In seconds, I was whole again.
I lay there, staring up at those white masks.
Physically fine.
Mentally?
'They reset the canvas'
"Again," the leader said.
Cycle 2
This time, knives.
They didn't stab.
They flayed.
Thin strips of skin peeled back slowly, exposing muscle beneath.
"Where is the original soul?"
Slice.
"Did you consume it?"
Slice.
"Are you a demon? A void construct?"
I stared at the ceiling. Counted cracks.
'One… two… three…'
'Alisia is safe'
'Four… five…'
'She's waiting'
'Six...'
"He isn't reacting," one of them muttered.
"Use the mana-disruptor."
A rod pressed against exposed muscle.
The surge that followed wasn't just pain.
It felt like being erased. Like my body forgot how to exist for a second.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
I convulsed. Screamed until my throat shredded.
"Answer!"
"I… am… Alden," I whispered.
"Healer."
Golden light again.
Skin restored. Nerves calmed.
Whole.
I wanted to die.
Cycle 4
Time didn't make sense anymore.
An hour? A day? A week?
I sat in the corner. They'd left me alone for a while. Let the silence do the work.
My body was perfect. No scars. No breaks.
My mind felt like shattered glass barely glued together.
[Stellar Mental Resistance] was the only reason I wasn't curled up sobbing.
'They want you to break. If you break, they win'
'If they win… Alisia loses'
I closed my eyes.
Her face appeared in the dark. Not the Ice Queen. Not the SS-ranker's daughter.
The girl eating candied fruit by the pier.
The girl who demanded a wish.
'You promised'
'You promised not to decide alone'
The door opened again.
I didn't flinch.
Liam von Ravel walked in.
White suit. Perfect. Untouched by the filth around me.
He looked at me like I was a specimen.
"You have remarkable mental fortification," he said casually. "Most people shatter after the second healing. The despair of being fixed just to be broken again… it destroys them."
He crouched in front of me.
"You're still in there," he murmured. "Calculating. Waiting."
He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.
His eyes were empty.
"Tell me," he whispered. "Who are you waiting for? The Valerion girl?"
I didn't react. Not even a twitch.
"She's been pacing the perimeter of the Sifting grounds for six hours," he continued, glancing at a pocket watch. "The frost is damaging the foundations."
He smiled.
"If you don't speak… I'll bring her down here. Maybe you'll talk if we start peeling her skin instead."
Something snapped.
Not fear.
The leash.
[Stellar Mental Resistance] shifted. Defense turned into focus. Sharp. Cold.
I looked at him.
And I smiled.
It wasn't pretty. It wasn't sane.
It was blood and broken teeth and something feral.
"Touch her," I whispered, steady. "Touch a single hair on her head, Liam."
I leaned forward. Shackles strained.
"And I will show you that a 'parasite' can still eat a god."
For a fraction of a second—just a flicker—he hesitated.
Then he stood up abruptly.
"Brave," he scoffed. "But empty."
He turned to the torturers.
"Break his legs. Slowly. Then leave him in the dark for twelve hours."
He paused.
"Let the silence do the rest."
He walked out.
The masked figures stepped closer.
I closed my eyes.
'One more round'
'Just survive'
Crack.
My shin shattered.
I didn't scream this time.
I just counted.
'One…'
'Two…'
'I'm coming back, Alisia'
'Three…'
Darkness swallowed me again.