Chapter 6) What It Takes
Darkness.
Not the comforting kind that came with nightfall, but an oppressive, suffocating void.
Cael stirred slowly, his body pinned, limbs aching, pain laced through every nerve like barbed wire. His thoughts came in fragments.
What the hell happened to me?
That bastard…
That damn fake story didn't work... And I actually believed him. His reaction, so convincing. Gods, what an idiot I am.
Then:
DING.
The chilling silence was interrupted by the hollow chime of the system.
> Your name has begun to spread within the Black Market.
Reputation: Notorious.
Rumors: Hostile.
+274 EXP
+1 STR, +2 END, +1 VIT
Cael blinked, the message fading into the air like smoke.
What the… even this? I gain stats from being hated?
Still, these are scraps. Useless if we already blew the mission.
But first… I need to get out of this hell.
His arms were wrenched behind the back of the rusted chair, metal clasps biting into skin and bone. Legs strapped tight. His head throbbed, but he forced his eyes open. Darkness still.
The door creaked open.
Footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate.
Four men entered. Dirty gloves, sleeveless coats, belts lined with tools that weren't made for repair.
They stopped in front of him.
The scarred one stepped forward, the same bastard from the alley.
"Who sent you?"
Cael didn't blink. "No one sent me. I just wanted to know where the damn Black Market was."
The man scowled. "So why'd you lie? That whole 'Void Magic' story? You think I'm a joke?"
"I figured you wouldn't talk otherwise," Cael said. "And it was written all over your face. You bought it."
The man's jaw twitched. "Doesn't matter now. You're not leaving this room with your limbs intact. Maybe not even your face."
He turned to his crew, and they laughed, ugly, gurgling sounds full of cruelty.
Cael gave a crooked grin. "Then at least do me a favor and tell me where the Market is. Always wanted to know."
The man laughed again. "You're asking that before you die? Cute."
"No," he said. "Not before I die. Before I become a breathing corpse."
A silence followed.
"You know," the man finally said, eyes narrowing, "your life from here on won't be a life. We're not going to kill you. We'll cut out your eyes, your tongue, take your arms, maybe your legs if we're bored. You'll still breathe. Still feel. But you'll be less than dirt."
They laughed again. Louder.
Cael chuckled once. "Then my final request is for your mother to take care of me when I'm a vegetable."
The room went silent.
The man's lips curled into a sneer.
"You're going to feel everything, boy. I'll make sure of it. Every second of agony. I'll keep you awake the whole damn time."
Cael tilted his head, something dead and dangerous in his eyes.
"Fine. Let's get started. Your mothers are probably tired of waiting for me anyway."
The first blow landed across his cheek.
The real pain began after that.
---
It wasn't a beating. It was methodical, unhurried destruction.
They started with cuts, long, shallow ones across the skin to draw blood but avoid unconsciousness. Then pressure applied to joints, the soft twisting of fingers, dislocated shoulders pushed back into place only to be pulled again. Hot rods pressed to his ribs. Pliers around his nails. Clamps around nerves.
Time lost meaning. The room blurred.
Cael screamed. Growled. Bit his own tongue to keep from crying out. But he felt every second of it.
The man who led the torture never left. Every ten minutes, he checked Cael's pupils, slapped him awake, whispered close to his ear, "Still with us?"
And Cael always nodded, teeth red with blood, mind half-broken but eyes still locked forward.
At hour four, they took his eyes. No hesitation, just a scalpel and silence.
At hour five, Cael could no longer speak. His mouth had been torn at the corners, his jaw broken.
Then came the axe.
The room echoed with a wet, sickening sound as metal bit through flesh and bone.
One arm.
Cael howled so loud it cracked his throat.
Then the second.
Then both legs.
He didn't remember anything after that.
---
He was thrown out like trash, what was left of him.
His body, shredded, mutilated, and near-dead, lay in the back of a rusted dumpster behind a row of slums, soaked in blood and rain.
A broken thing.
A corpse.
Then:
DING.
> You have survived extreme physical trauma.
Pain thresholds exceeded.
Experience gained: +11,820 EXP
New Abilities Unlocked [3].
Full Recovery: In Progress.
Cael didn't stir.
He was still unconscious.
But something inside him was changing.
---
He awoke much later.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt endless. His body was light. Too light.
His skin? Smooth.
Limbs? Whole again.
Scars? None.
It was as if he'd never been touched.
Cael sat up slowly, hands trembling.
...I'm alive.
...How?
...No, I know how. The regeneration. It works even like this…
He tried to move. His muscles obeyed. Gently. Smoothly.
And yet…
His mind burned.
Memories surged, every tool, every scream, every cut.
The axe.
His breath caught.
Even his own healing couldn't fix the nightmare. He wanted to laugh, "At least I'm alive", but the words rang hollow.
This isn't normal. No one should be okay after that.
And I'm not okay.
I'm just too tired to feel anything.
He stood.
One step. Then another.
And then he ran.
---
Home.
He needed to be home.
---
The door slammed open.
Vey sat on the window ledge, half-asleep, staring at the neon haze outside. When he turned and saw Cael, his expression changed instantly.
He rushed forward. "Where the hell were you?!"
Cael stared at him.
"How long's it been?"
Vey blinked. "What?"
"Since we last saw each other."
Vey frowned. "You've been gone a day. Almost thirty hours."
Cael exhaled.
Only a day…?
And yet, it felt like weeks.
He sat down on the floor, back against the wall, and started talking.
No drama. No pause.
He told Vey everything. From the lie, to the alley, to the betrayal. To the torture. To the axe.
He didn't cry. He didn't even blink.
He just told it all.
And when he finished, Vey sat silent. Shocked. Pale.
Then Vey asked quietly, "What ability did you get… from all that?"
Cael looked at him with empty eyes.
"That's what you care about?"
Vey chuckled nervously. "It's not that. I just… you went through hell. Maybe something good came out of it."
Cael sighed. "We don't have time to sulk."
He stood, slow but firm. "Let's just move. We need to leave this Zone. For real."
He opened his palm.
Nothing.
The interface didn't come.
He frowned.
"…Seriously?"
"I think I need more pain."
Vey stared.
"No. Hell no."
"Vey. Punch me. Hard. In the gut."
"…Cael, "
"Just do it."
Vey clenched his fist and drove it straight into Cael's stomach.
He doubled over, coughing. "Why… why are you so damn strong…?"
DING.
> +23 EXP
System Interface: Online
Cael opened the Abilities tab.
Three new entries blinked into view, each marked with a sharp, blood-red triangle. He had never seen that icon before.
Each skill felt… alive.
Not like system upgrades.
More like curses earned the hard way.
He read them one by one, pulse rising with each line.
---
> [Bloodlash]
Cael lashes out with a tendril of condensed blood and nerve-energy. The whip extends up to 8 meters, dealing slashing damage that scales with the amount of HP lost in the last 10 seconds. Can tear through armor and disarm enemies.
Cooldown: 15 seconds.
---
> [Crucible Spike]
Impales the ground with a jagged black spike formed from condensed pain energy. The spike erupts beneath a targeted enemy, piercing from below. Deals high damage and causes temporary paralysis (1.5 sec) if the user was bleeding at the time of casting.
Cooldown: 30 seconds.
---
> [Torment Repeater]
Marks an enemy. For the next 6 seconds, every time Cael receives damage, the same amount is stored. At the end of the duration, the stored pain is unleashed on the marked target as raw energy damage.
Cooldown: 45 seconds. Max stored damage: 300% of Cael's VIT.
---
Cael stared at the screen, jaw tight.
These weren't ordinary skills.
They weren't designed to protect or heal.
They were built to kill through suffering.
Vey leaned over…
"…Those aren't abilities," he muttered.
Cael didn't respond at first.
Then he smiled, quiet, bitter, almost proud.
"They're weapons," he said.
"Forged from pain."