Days bled into nights. Nights bled into days. Somewhere, probably. Here, the scene never changed: me, two demons, a pack of wandering monsters, scorched earth, and torture. Now that I've mastered my nervous system, I don't feel pain anymore. Thanks to my masochistic training, I can intercept pain signals after they start. What pisses me off most now is waking up. It's not just the pain—it's that they won't let me fucking sleep. Back in my Old Shitty Life, sleep was my favorite thing. I figured that out in the army. Here, I was working the fields as a kid. What self-respecting peasant doesn't love toiling at 5 a.m.? In this world, I've been brutally divorced from the love of my life. So, I've got new ambitions: learn to sleep through torture. No clue how to pull that off, but I'll figure it out.
The whole time I've been here, new problems keep piling up. You'd think it couldn't get worse, but nope—solve one issue, and another pops up. Now? I'M FUCKING BORED.
Watching two hideous freaks mutilate my young body isn't exactly riveting. So, I entertained myself however I could. I'd guess the method or tool for their next "masterclass." Used magic to flash a three-finger combo on my hand (you know, the "Liberty" sign). Tapped out broken rhythms with my chest muscles. Raced nerve impulses against each other. I even named the three skulls hanging on Grok's chest—Adolf, Joseph, and Svitlana—and acted out little skits with them. That last name's not big in history, but it's carved in gold in our dorm's lore. Also, when Vyer wasn't around, I'd give my junk a little magical jolt. Hey, why not? It's boring as shit. Vyer can't see that. Who knows what that nosy fucker might think up. I'm not risking it, hoping Grok's magic can fix my balls.
One day, Vyer's curiosity led to an observation:
"Grok."
"What?"
"Why's he so quiet lately?"
No shit, Sherlock, took you half a year to notice.
"Dunno," Grok said.
"He didn't croak, did he?"
"Nah, he's alive."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm a healer."
"Weird. He used to scream his head off."
"Oh, probably the cloth."
"Huh?"
"He told me stuffing cloth in his mouth makes him quieter. Took a while, but it worked."
"What if you take it out?"
"Did that when I fed him. Nothing happened."
I decided to jump into the chat. I mumbled three times. Got their attention, but they stared at me like cavemen at a supermarket door. I did it again.
"Think he wants to say something," Grok said.
A thousand points to Grok for brains! He came over and pulled the piss-soaked rag out of my mouth.
"Listen, guys, you don't need that rag anymore," I started. "It's done its job."
"For real?" Grok asked.
"Yeah, toss it."
"Alright…" The demons were mildly shocked.
"One more thing. To keep the effect going, you need to do a ritual. Before you start hurting me, say a simple spell. Listen up. Not too loud, but clear, and stand close. It goes like this: Wake up."
"Wake...?"
"Wake up. Got it?"
It seems, that this words was unfimiliar to them, so demons practiced this powerful spell until I was satisfied with their delivery. Perfect. One less problem.
Now, while getting my daily dose of torture, I could chat with the demons. They weren't exactly brain surgeons, but they were chill. I tried convincing them to let me go, but they were stubborn as rocks. Sometimes, we even cracked jokes. From the outside, a kid casually chatting with two monstrous demons while they peel his skin must've looked surreal as fuck. But it's all an act. They think I forgot the horrors they put me through? No clue how, but I'll make them pay.
My only weapon was magic. I could try killing the demons with it, but then what? What do I do? Where do I run? I don't have enough mana to take on all those monsters. Plus, I don't even know how many demons are here. With my frail-ass body, I wouldn't last long. Escape needs serious prep.
"Hey, Vyer…" I said casually while he twisted my fingers at impossible angles. "How'd you drag me here?"
"By the arms."
"No, I mean, how'd you snatch me from the manor? Was it magic?"
"Yeah, summoning magic. Sometimes humans call us up when they need someone killed. They're kinda weak."
"Got it. Can't you just pop out on your own?"
"I can, but it needs the lord's permission and a boost."
"Boost?"
"The gates are covered in strong magic. Weak demons get fried. But generals can lend some of their power to underlings. That's how I got out a few times."
"And how'd you all go to war if you can't even leave?"
"Soon, the lord'll break that magic. Then the real fun starts."
Sounds like I've got a shot at getting out. Sure, there'll be a massive war and all that shit, but better to try escaping than stay a rock's decoration. I need to prepare. Harden my body and will by then. Electrical stimulation does build muscle. I also need to boost my mana pool. No idea how much magic it takes to kill these two, but better to have extra. Though… extra? I'd be lucky to manage at all. But maybe there's an efficient way to take them down. I can easily control electricity in my body, but can I do it in someone else's? My orphanage teacher said you can't create or control magic inside another organism. Every living thing has a protective membrane—an Aura—that blocks foreign mana. Without it, any half-decent earth mage could explode your head like a watermelon by conjuring a rock inside. But there's an exception: healing magic. It slips right through. Maybe the Aura filters positive and negative effects? I'm betting it just can't stop it. For my electricity, it's worth a test. It's energy, after all.
When I got a chance to touch a demon, I tried sensing their nerve impulses. Total bust. It's like a dark curtain, blocking me from peeking behind. A fucking event horizon. I've hit this wall before, and I think I know the fix. I sent a weak signal through his body and tried tracking it. Not great. It vanished behind the curtain fast. But I didn't give up. I sent more, again and again, trying to map the demon's nervous system. Controlling their impulses is still a long shot. The Aura's a bitch, throwing up major interference. I need time to cut through this fog of war. Plus, I'm not sure if this'll even do damage. I've gotta work my ass off. Train every day. Boost focus. Grow my mana pool. Sharpen my magic control. No wasting a single minute. By the time the fighting starts, I need to be strong.
"Hey, Vyer, when's the lord planning to kick off this war?"
"Dunno. Like, twenty or thirty years from now."
Got it.
So, Adolf, Joseph, and Svitlana walk into a bar…